Pula!

Soaking up the sun.

All the folks in the village were having fun.

Every tribe, of varying tongues dancing to the sound of the ngoma.

Soon they spotted a group of enormous grey clouds approaching.

‘‘Lightning’s coming toward us!’’

One of the elders cried.

Everyone huddled together underneath the hut made out of red clay.

Several of the older men muttered, some advising the Chief and other kinsmen to seek aid from the sangoma.

She appeared in a cloud of smoke beside the hut, and chuckled.

“Peril seems to only come in a time when you think it’s not in sight.”

The elders scoffed. They did not like to hear what solution would be provided for the clan.

The sangoma grinned knowing what troubled the elders as she knew how to help the people. She asked them to bring a goat. So, they did.

Once she had one in her palms, she pulled a knife out from her cloak, and slit the goat’s throat. She let the fresh blood run into a wooden bowl. As soon as the bowl was almost full, she raised it to her lips, and took a sip. She informed everyone to do the same. They all gathered around her in a single file, and each person— young-even old- took a taste of the goat’s blood.

The sangoma trembled. She raised the bowl, & after her wailing, as well as chanting, she dropped it to the ground.

The crowd all gasped. Pieces of the bowl scattered on the ground & each piece was now a similar shape to the goat they had killed.

Every tiny goat rose into the air. Charging off into the sky toward the clouds that seemed to form like a cloudy starry sky.

The little pieces that looked like goats pierced the clouds with their horns. Then the folks who at this time had all been staring at the sky…felt droplets of water splatter onto the tops of their heads, on their bare feet, and rolling by the sides of their sleeveless arms.

“Pula!”

One of the elders exclaimed.

They were all glad. Some folks checked around the many faces all smiling for the sangoma. She was already gone before any of them could give her a warm embrace for bringing them rain for the maize and other crops in the field.

Pula! (c) Septembre 15, 2022.