16. GUMGUMMY

The news soon got around, once the straggling line of Prince Dickory’s volunteer army had a chance to wash themselves and find something to eat, not always easy when those who should have been out hunting had been on a fool’s errand. Because, they let leak out, that’s what it had been: a fool’s errand.
It was Gumgummy who sought Owongo out while he was hunting for more meat with which to feed what seemed to have become a large family, and told him what they had done from the moment they had set forth on the Prince’s mission.
“Me a fool to go in the first place but…” he began, apologetically, “two people tell Gumgummy, Prince Dickory and Owongo, and Gumgummy discover that it is Owongo that tells the truth.
“We march,” (the word he used wasn’t really anything like a synonym for march, but it’s probably what he meant and anyway it makes sense) “up the mountain slope until we reach the top, expecting to find rows of men armed with clubs ready to attack us. But no! There was peace and a lot of men were rebuilding their shacks.”
At this point I’d best point out that most of the people on the volcano side of the mountain built their own shacks or shelters for protection against the weather, natural caves being few and far between. They were simple, one-room and mud floor affairs in which entire families shared a single bed space, together with any animals they might have befriended.
Gumgummy continued. “And they worked together, sharing the work and helping each other. The mountain, what they call a volcano, had done a great deal of damage, but they were already well on the way of repairing some of it. And when they noticed us they waved cheerily and asked us if we’d come to help them. It was the big man they call Crackhead who replied, and he snarled nasty words and said that we’d come to fight before they ravaged our village, and the man laughed and said they’d do no such thing, they had repairs to do to their own homes, and anyway what good would a village of caves be to families who enjoyed their wooden shacks?”
“Caves warmer, when cold outside,” suggested Owongo, “so what you do next, friend Gumgummy?”
“I see one man binding wooden twigs and straight branches with twine from the river bank, and I offer to help. To hold things while he twisted twine... he needed help, so I offered it. He tell me about the loud bang that we all heard and how rivers of fire ran from the top of the volcano and only missed their shacks by a small amount… he said it always went the same way when it began, so they not put homes where it might burn them.”
“So it happens quite a lot?” asked Owongo.
“Not so often that they find somewhere else to live,” sighed Gumgummy, but scary when it comes. His woman says they going to move to another valley soon. Maybe come to us, though not as warriors. They would come in peace and if not welcomed, move on. Plenty of space to live, she said.”
“And have you told Susu or Prince Dickory?” asked Owongo, “might change their minds, might make them see sense.”
“Never will!” replied Gumgummy, “I see Dickhead for what he is. Self-serving and needs to spout nonsense for us to believe. His lies divides us, some nod their heads and other shake theirs, so he wins! I mean, look at you and Mirumda, Owongo. You got friends everywhere, you trusted, but your friends still march off to fight if Dickhead says! Even me, and I will never forgive myself, we need, what did you call it, democracy, every man having an equal say in what goes on, and not rule by one fat man!”
As they stalked a small deer, their quiet whispers becoming silenced lest the creature hear them and flee, a rustling told them they were not alone, and it was a clumsy kind of rustling, not the sort likely to be made by a wild creature. They pulled each other simultaneously to a standstill and leaned towards an ancient tree where they would be even less noticeable than they already were, and the rustling was repeated. Then came a voice which made their intended prey turn on its hoofs and dart away, timidly and desperate for its own solitude.
“Where are you, Wongo!” called the voice.
“Dickhead,” whispered Owongo.
“Bad,” sighed Gumgummy
“You stay here. I’ll see what he wants,” mouthed Owongo, and he stepped away from the tree leaving Gumgummy shivering against it.
“You want me, Dickhead?” he replied to the voice, “I had my eyes on a nice piece of meat, and you made it run off with your clumsy noises, and I thought you knew something about hunting in the wild!”
“They are slithering back, those who went to defend our homes,” growled Prince Dickory, “and I would warn you against name-calling. I am Prince Dickory, not Dickhead, and I have men at my side who will let you know exactly how I feel about it!”
“Slithering, you say?” queried Owongo, “your brave army of fighters?”
“It is not my fault that some are cowards!” snapped the Prince, “and not my fault that they have no interest in defending their homes from savages!”
That was enough for Gumgummy and he detached himself from the tree and in a raised voice almost shouted, “you are calling me a coward are you, Dickhead? I saw what I saw the other side of the mountain and I noticed that he who stirred the anger amongst his fellow men and even some women was not amongst our number but lurked on his own in the shadows at the mountain’s foot, unseen and safe!”
Before Prince Dickory could burst forth with an angry reply two more figures detached themselves from where they had been hiding. Owongo recognised them as friendly villagers, though he wasn’t sure whether they’d fallen foul of the Prince’s weasel words or not.
“Ah, Prince Dickory,” one of them said, “I’m surprised to find you here. I had heard that your own cave has been taken by a savage family and you will have to fight your way back in! I thought you might be defending your home, but here you are waylaying honest folk!”
© Peter Rogerson 22.11.23
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