Ndugu's FarewellA Story by Ashira Macy The family bond between two very different worlds. Everyone has that one person who
touches their life and creates a ripple effect, changing them for better or
worse. For many it is a lover, someone you can share your life with, provide
for and protect. For others it could be a rival who pushes you to work hard
enough to surpass them. The person who changed me was my best friend, Ndugu. At
least that is what I named him, though his people called him by a different title. I met
Ndugu many hunts ago when I was small, still learning my way around Africa’s
wild grasslands. Back then I couldn’t tell a wildebeest from a buffalo, so my
mother worked with me and my sisters, teaching us all she knew about the savannah
and its rules; one of which was to never get close to the distinct rumbling
crackle of great metal beasts that men rode in. Another was to avoid the scent
of fire, as that meant a settlement was nearby. I was
my father’s daughter however, and inherited his need for rebellion, for
adventure. It is what got him into trouble, and eventually lost him his pride.
Still, I was young and brave, adrenaline pumping through me from my first
successful hunt, no matter how small that warthog had been. I was flying high,
with near a full belly as the leader had turned his nose up at my catch, too
insignificant to be worth his time. That
night when all of my comrades were asleep I prowled off in the darkness, eager
to test my skills, without my sisters’ help. I slunk through the grass with
developing grace, past my mother and her new mate. I had to check myself before
a growl slipped out of my throat. I didn’t care for him, none of my family did,
but he was in charge, and nothing could be done about it. When I
felt far enough away I began to run, still cautious, though not as much as I
should have been. There were many things that came out to feed at night that
were bigger, stronger, and faster than I was. Looking back now at my own
stupidity, it is a wonder I am still alive to tell this tale. I began
to pant, the exertion getting to me so I slowed and sniffed the air for a trace
of any nearby prey. I sneezed and flattened myself to the ground, frozen in
place with the hairs between my shoulder blades standing on end. The smoky
scent of fire had my heart beating in rapid throbs against my chest. I thought
it might puncture its way right through to the open air. I hadn’t been prepared
for men. Another warthog or maybe even a small wildebeest… heck, I could have
even outrun a hyena if it came down to it! But I had never even laid eyes on a
human. Every time those metal beasts had come through the grasslands mother had
hidden us behind her, growling at them in warning. The most I had seen was the
round appendages they used to move, but that told me nothing of the humans that
rode atop them. I
inhaled again, catching the smell of something unfamiliar and tensed up
further. My ears twitched as I heard dried grass crunch from behind me and I
thrust myself forward, to become entangled in thick brown vines just moments
later; a squeal sounding from my mouth from the surprise. As I struggled and
thrashed the vines became tighter, wrapping around my throat as well. My
panic climaxed when a dark being stepped out from the shadows looking down at
me from what seemed like the height of a tree. I gave him my fiercest snarl,
hoping he might back away, clawing at my confines with all my might, but they
tightened around my neck and I choked. “Shhh,”
the man whispered, “How did you get out here by yourself little Mtoto?” I
didn’t understand, not that it mattered. My only response was the wheezing my
throat made. I saw something flash in the moonlight and squeezed my eyes
closed, going completely limp. If I was going to die this way, at least I could
die with dignity. I felt him brush against my back in gentle stokes and then
further up, inching his way toward my throat. I clenched my jaw, expecting him
to slice into me, but instead I heard a snap and the vine fell away from my
neck, allowing me to breathe a huge gulp of air. I
opened my eyes to find that he was still staring down at me, the whites of his
eyes contrasting against his darkened skin. He continued to pat me in light
brushes with one of his paws, while the other began working on untangling the
remaining vines. He scratched underneath my chin in slow circles, as though he
was trying to sooth my skin where the circulation had been compromised. I felt
my confines drop away at last and scrambled to my feet, and he snatched his paw
away, though I wasn’t planning to bite. We gazed at each other for a few more
moments before he moved, causing me to twitch. He bared his bright teeth in a
playful way and held something out toward me. I sniffed and started salivating;
it smelled like buffalo, though there was not moisture on it. I stuck my long
tongue out and lapped it from him, imagining he would appreciate not having my
sharp teeth anywhere near his skin. I swallowed without chewing, rubbing my
face against his leg in a quick motion, and taking off at full speed toward my
pride. I
decided not to tell my mother, being sure to clean myself before I slunk back.
She wouldn’t punish me, but she might tell the leader, and I didn’t like the
idea of him knowing I broke the rules. As I nestled in next to my sisters my
mind wandered back to the man I had met. I was always told to never trust a
human, but he had contradicted everything my mother said. He could have easily
killed me for sport and sold my pelt or teeth, the fate of my uncle before he
was grown. As I drifted to sleep I decided that this human would be worth
finding out about and promised to go back the next chance I got. Hunts went by and I visited the man
every night I could, first only watching him from a hiding place in the
grasses, though he knew I was there. He would look back at me every now and
then and bare his teeth in that happy way. I would yawn in response to let him
know I didn’t feel threatened. As I began to grow larger I became
bolder, strutting up to him and batting at his leg in a playful manner. At
first he only responded by scratching behind my ears, causing me to purr in
delight; but as we got to know each other he changed the game, pouncing on me,
or head-butting me when I least expected it. He called me Mtoto and talked to
me in animated delight; and though I couldn’t understand everything I began to
feel his moods more and more. Before long I couldn’t imagine what
my day would be like if I didn’t get to see him, and chat with him in light
growls and purrs. That is when I dubbed him Ndugu. My brother. I had always
wished for one despite my surplus of sisters, but the leader didn’t want any other
males around the pride. If one was born it was left for dead, or killed on the
spot, so there was never a chance. I wouldn’t have expected a human to become
that company I craved for, but Ndugu was a kind soul, full of cheerfulness and
stories of his travels throughout Africa. Seasons changed and I grew to my
full size, while Ndugu stayed the same. I still went to see him every night,
and though he was not always there, he made it whenever he could. I was mature
which meant that I could mate, and the leader was eager for my sisters and I. He
had been leering at us for many hunts just waiting for us to ripen. One day it happened, he came with
the intention of claiming me as a new mate. I let him sniff at me, a shiver ran
up my spine in disgust and thought about my mother’s rules. The leader got to
mate with all of the pride’s females. I had accepted that fate at first, but
the more I thought about it, the more my stomach churned. I tried to think of
anything but him as he mounted me, but his scent assaulted my senses and I
couldn’t go through with it. I bucked him off with a powerful kick of my back
legs and bolted from our territory, refusing to look back. Rejection meant there
was no going back, but I couldn’t let that foul thing take me. I ran toward our usual meeting spot
but Ndugu was not there so I continued on, following his scent as best I could.
I would just stay with him, and we could be our own pride. I could hunt and he
could protect me from my past. I’ll admit I was not thinking along the clearest
lines, but my fear was still in overdrive as I pushed onward. Ndugu’s smell got
stronger along with some unfamiliar one, but I paid it no mind. It was possible
that he had caught a meal for himself. I spotted him and slowed, letting
out a cheerful roar to alert him of my presence. His head shot up and spotted
me, but he didn’t bare his teeth and his eyes looked horrified. I heard a shout
from behind him and a smaller human appeared. I thought perhaps it was his
mate, and bounded forward again, excited to meet a new family member. “Mtoto, no!!!” I noticed too late
the poacher’s weapon she held and roared again this time in terror. It happened in a blur of movement. Ndugu
threw his arms around me and clutched me tight, blocking her shot of me and my
path to her. I couldn’t stop her. She pulled the trigger. The sound of thunder
filled the savannah. The air took on the metallic smell of blood and Ndugu’s
grip on my loosened, falling to the ground in front of me, red pooling around
him. I didn’t hesitate, lunging at the
woman. Not for food, not for survival, but out of pure rage. She didn’t even have
the chance to realize the gravity of what she had done as my fangs sunk into
her throat, ripping it out like her skin was made of soft grass. I dropped her
to the ground and scrambled back to Ndugu, nuzzling his face and licking his
wounds, unsure of what to do. He bared his teeth up at me one last time and scratched
me under my chin. “I love you Mtoto,” he rubbed his
face against mine, moisture leaking from his eyes before he closed them and
fell limp at my feet. I licked his face, begging him to wake up, but I knew he
wouldn’t. My brother was gone, and I had abandoned my pride.
Everyone
has that one person who touches their life and creates a ripple effect, changing
them for better or worse. Ndugu touched my life and I was forever after labeled
a man-eater and outcast on the run. Still, I wouldn’t trade my time with him
for all of the peace and security the world could offer me. I loved you too Ndugu,
and I still do. © 2014 Ashira MacyAuthor's Note
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Ashira MacyMartinez, CAAboutI am 24 years old and just getting back into writing after not using the skill for a few years, so I am a bit rusty. I am excited to share my new work as well as some old with this community and would.. more..Writing
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