A sign from Ikah

The teenage girls were up before the crack of dawn headed to the swift but shallow river for a bath in preparation for the Ikah ritual. The villagers of Tenzi north of South Africa believed ‘the Divine’ Ikah, the goddess of earth inhabited the oldest and largest baobab in their village. The tree was so large it took over 20 people to form a link chain around it. The elders say the tree is over 1000 years old and when Ikah would speak, her voice would be heard at the tip of North Africa.

The harvest season was over and it was time to give thanks to Ikah for the bounty. Only girls took part in the ceremony, the area around the baobab tree was sacred. If an intruder stepped into the scared ground, their private parts were infected with a disease that looked like cauliflower heads.

The morning breeze was gentle on the girls’ radiant faces, they were chit chatting and giggling more than usual. Bahati the group leader towered the rest of the girls, she appeared intimidating, which was in direct contrast with her warm, friendly smile. She silenced their chattering with one thunderous beat of the drum. She was well known for hitting the drums, she had done it since she was ten. She beat the drum in intervals, da-da-dum high-high-low in intervals as they walked to the river, this sound also let the villagers know the girls were headed to the river.  

Bahati kept watch for the girls at the back of the line by shuffling them with the girls in front, she was militant like her dad. At the river, the girls stripped off jumped and splashed in the cold icy water. They washed each other’s long braids and tied them in an upright bun so that they would drip dry instead of having wet hair as a cloak over their shoulders. It was not uncommon for boys to follow the girls to the river and hide in the bushes but as soon as they were spotted the girls would hurl stones and pebbles while cursing them. Bahati was a sharpshooter, after a few stone throws, you’d hear running feet and promises of revenge as the girls laughed at the young boys scattering in the riverbank bushes.

They returned to the village, just in time to be painted and covered with tribal marks in celebration of Ikah. Bahati apologised to the irritated tribal markers. All twenty girls were adorned with paint and tribal markings. As they stepped out of the huts everyone marvelled at their colourful tattooed faces, arms, torso and legs. They had bright long feathers tucked into their voluminous braids, any peacock would be jealous. Bahati emerged from the hands of the oldest tribal marker who was smiling widely with her cracked front teeth in clear view. She was pleased with her work on Bahati. Bahati slowly walked to the front of the line, the vibrant green and yellow paint on her brown skin glistened, the white dots on her face framed her high cheekbones, her eyes were embellished in gold paint, her thin painted arms were adorned with cowrie shells. She belonged in an art gallery with her basket of mangoes.

“Wow! How old is Bahati, isn’t she of age to get married?” said one of the elderly women.  

“She certainly looks like a beautiful bride.” another whispered.

This was Bahati’s nightmare, she tried being invisible to avoid the prying eyes of tradition.  She had been praying to Ikah daily not to get betrothed. She avoided eye contact with the gawking villagers as the older women sang, ululated raising their hands to the sky and to the food baskets the girls were carrying as they headed to the sacred grounds. The men sat around the tree on three legged stools, one meter away from the sacred ground while the women sat on the floor half a meter from the baobab tree. The women continued singing throughout the ceremony, the girls placed fruits and vegetables as a token of appreciation around the humongous baobab tree and cleared any rotten food from the previous ceremony. The singing got louder, the girls shuffled their feet vigorously, with their hands up in the air, swinging their hips from side to side. They circulated the tree five times and the sixth time Bahati lost her footing, fell and hit her head against the tree. For a minute all you could hear was the sound of the wind and birds chirping noisily. The girls were terrified not knowing what to do. Bahati lay there unconscious.

“WaTenzi this is Ikah’s will, leave the girl alone.” said the eldest woman in the community amid horrified gasps.

Bahati’s mum screamed in shock. She stood up and was instantly grabbed by her fellow mothers to prevent her from going to Bahati’s aid.

“Nama! You’ll bring a curse on the whole village!” they yelled.

“I don’t care, my baby needs me.” Nama sobbed falling on the ground.

The men were unruffled, it is Ikah’s will after all. The girls were encouraged to complete the remaining four circles around Bahati who lay unconscious under the tree. After the ritual Bahati was still lying motionless. The village women helped Nama back to the village consoling her.

“Have you done anything wrong Nama? Ikah is definitely upset about something.” they said.

“You should allow her to get married.” said one of the women.

“Nonsense, I have done nothing to displease Ikah. Let me Go!” she disengaged from the grasp of her helpers. “Ikah is protecting Bahati from your hyena thoughts.”  “Goodbye.” Nama broke away from the group of women and headed home.   

After what seemed like a lifetime Bahati opened her eyes, she felt the soft earth where she lay and sat up. The moonlight was focused on Ikah’s tree. All she could hear was her own slow breath. Her head was pounding, she untied her braids and removed the feathers to feel for blood but there was none. She stood up and, in a flash, night turned into day. She was walking through the farm barefoot holding a basket in her arm. She picked up a cassava root, brushed off the dirt and put it in her basket, the beans were ready for harvesting, the kale was ginormous, the size of a tiny umbrella. She smiled to herself, her mum would love this kale. She saw Ikah’s baobab tree in the distance, she was sure this is a blessing from Ikah.

A cold breeze blew giving her goosebumps, the breeze blew again harder this time blowing off the plant leaves. The wind grew so strong, it picked her off the ground as if gravity was suddenly turned off. She shut her eyes, too afraid to open as she was blown higher into the sky. Bahati shouted Ikah’s name from the top of her lungs and just like that everything stopped. She opened her eyes to find herself outside her mum’s hut. “What just happened?” Bahati spoke out loud and she could taste the earth in her mouth. Terrified she ran into the hut to find her mum sitting on the floor staring at the almost dying fire at the centre of the hut.

“Ma?”

Bahati’s mum leaped up and grabbed and held her tight for a minute, then she ran her fingers all over Bahati’s slender body. “Are you ok? Are you hurt?”

“I am fine Ma. I…”  

“Thank you Ikah, for bringing my baby home.” Her mum hugged her again kissing her forehead.  “Bahati, are you sure you are fine?”

“Yes Ma, I am tired but fine, let’s go to bed.”

When the elderly women found out Bahati had returned they ululated in excitement. “Ikah be praised! That’s a sign Bahati, it is time to get you a husband. You are now a ripe fruit.” Out of respect, Bahati never responded to the women she just smiled and went on her way. That evening Bahati was seated silently with her mum around the crackling fire.

“Ma, what do you dream about?” asked Bahati

“Me? Dream? Hmmm… lets see… all I want is land to grow my vegetables, to keep cows and chicken. Your father’s piece of land is tied up with the Chief. See, when your father passed away, he was indebted to the Chief.” Nama’s shoulders slumped down surrendering to hopelessness.

“What’s your dream my child?” she smiled trying to conceal her despair.   

“The one thing, I am sure off is I don’t want to get married now or even in the next ten years. Please don’t allow those busy bodies to force me into marriage.”  

“They have already been here several times, trying to coax me. The Chief has even offered to cancel your father’s debt and give me the land, if you agreed to marry into his family lineage.”

“NO, NO, NO… don’t even think it Ma.”

“What am I to do Bahati? I am growing old, this is not my time to start going against the grain.”  

“I have an idea, I’ll run away.” said Bahati.

“That’s not an idea, that’s being silly. You are going nowhere, as long as I have strength in my bones, you’ll stay in the village.”  

“I have a better idea, Ma!” she sat up excited. Tell the Chief Ikah spoke to me and has given me specific orders.”

“Did she tell you something, my baby? I have waited for you to tell me what happened that night”.

Bahati described in detail what happened.  

“Oh, My Ikah! That message is meant for me. I must be firm, if not I will be dragged into misery.”

Bahati’s mum felt like she had a new lease on life, she rushed five kilometres to the chief’s kraal. They exchanged pleasantries. “Thank you, but I will not enter, Ikah spoke to Bahati.” said Nama.

He nodded, “I am listening.” he said in a subdued voice. He was worried a curse was eminent. The last time Ikah put a curse on a deceitful man, his family got boils and they had to go and live in the forest, they were never seen, and their bodies were never found.

“Ahem!” Nama cleared her throat and looked down. “Ikah will restrain her wrath on you, your family and your lineage, if you return what belongs to me.” Nama did not lift her eyes to see the Chiefs reaction and she did not want the Chief to see her face in-case he could tell that she was fibbing. The Chief paced back and forth, scratching his head and murmuring.     

“You and your daughter can have your husband’s land.” he said and walked back into his kraal.  

Bahati’s mum could not believe it. She got home late to find Bahati dosing off next to the dwindling fire. In the weeks that followed, Bahati and her mum ploughed the land. They built themselves a cosy hut at the corner of the farm. After the planting season, the girls prepared as they usually did for the Ikah ceremony. The villagers danced all the way to the sacred ground to give thanks to Ikah and to get her blessing for growth. During the dance Bahati fell down unconscious, the villagers gasped. This time Nama did not cry, Bahati was Ikah’s messenger.