18. RELOCATION

With a rigged election in the air, Owongo and family decide enough is enough and move away

It was the time that Prince Dickory had decreed the re-election should take place. By time I don’t want anyone to think he was governed by such artifices as clocks or watches or even egg-timers. No, he declared that when the shadow from a stick he plunged into the ground on the bank of the river reached a certain point on the very next day then the election would end. It would, of course, have started at the crack of dawn when everyone was still asleep.
Owongo eyed the stick suspiciously. It looked suspiciously close to the certain point defined by the one he called Dickhead which meant that hardly anyone would have time to live their lives and yet find time to cast their vote. Or, if they did risk all and vote then children would go hungry and old timers approaching fifty years of age would breathe their last unnoticed and pass away to the land of their ancestors somewhere among the stars. It would seem that there were some, Owongo amongst them, who could struggle to count up to quite large numbers, like fifty.
“We vote,!” he urged to Mirumda, and she nodded. “Dickhead up to no good,” she suggested.
“I fear cheating,” replied Owongo grimly
When they arrived at the voting point, the place where Prince Dickory has pushed a long stick as far into the ground as it would go, he was standing around looking as self-satisfied as his plump face could manage.
“Wo there, Wongo,” he managed to boom out, “you go down there to be counted.” He pointed to a roughly marked pathway that he had got one of his so called friends to mark and where Susu lounged ready to mentally add him to the tariff that so far amounted to one.
“How many?” Owongo asked her when he reached her.
“With you, it makes one,” she replied.
“But there are two of us,” protested Owongo.
“Two then,” she said with a smile, and Owongo decided that mischief was afoot.
“And how many have walked the Dickhead path?” he asked
“Oh, I haven’t counted them,” replied Susu, “but it looks to have been quite a lot. Possibly more than seven.”
“Then me and my family have only one option,” said Owongo sadly, “and I must say this to Dickhead.”
“You know he doesn’t like being called that,” murmured Susu, “and as soon as he gets a majority he intends to make a rule that when he is addressed it is only in the proper way. He is Prince Dickory, and anyone who calls him anything but that will be subject to harsh punishment.”
“Really?”;put in Mirumda, “then it’s a shame we won’t be around to enjoy it,” and she took Owongo by one hand and led him firmly and determinedly back to their cave.
“What was that about, my love?” he asked.
“I know what you were thinking when you spoke with Susu and heard her words,” Mirumda told him with a lovely smile on her face, “and we are leaving our home, aren’t we? We will gather our few things into a bundle, take hold of the ankle-biters and climb the mountain! There we will find friends.”
“I heard that!” snapped Prince Dickory’s voice from the cave entrance, “and you can’t do that! You are one of the candidates. Wongo, and many people may vote for you. You may, if the stars lie as they sometimes do, be the leader by the time the shadow sinks down!
“I have seen the way your ‘neutral’ vote counters work!” snapped Owongo, “and there’s nothing neutral about it as you well know, Prince Dickhead!”
“So you will lose. Hard luck!” sneered the Prince “And when you are lost in the count and I have won, I will introduce capital punishment for those who call me anything than my proper name. I am not a Dickhead or Dickarm or Dick anything but Prince Dickory.”
“But you will have to find me first, and then claim sovereignty over where I am, for I will not be here!” snapped Owongo, “Now, Dickleg, I would be obliged it you will leave me in peace. You bring a strange and unpleasant smell with you!”
“Pah!” snorted Prince Dickory, “just you wait, Wongo, my hour will come and then you suffer!”
Owongo watched him as he marched arrogantly out of sight and then gave swift orders to his small family, instructing the twins to roll the skins that they used as bedding up and be prepared to carry them. Then he and Mirumda divided everything else they needed between them and before night fell they were ready to leave their cave and make their way to the path that led to the mountain pass.
“There may be empty caves or even shacks for us,” he said to Mirumda, though in truth he was also talking hopefully to himself.
“Make haste, or it will be dark,” urged Mirumda.
“Then come! Let us go and leave Dickhead and his dreadful empire for good.” he said,
They were barely half way up the pass path by the time it was too dark for them to see their feet before them and they knew they had to rest until daylight. It was a balmy night and they had warm skins with them, more for lying on than covering themselves against the cold.
The twins appreciated what to them was a brand new adventure and spoke of what the future might hold in excited voices. Owongo and Mirumda, however, soon felt sleep rolling over and both of them sighing, for they sensed a freedom they had once known and could see evaporating once Prince Dickory declared himself the leader. And sleeping in the open wasn’t so different from being in their cave, what with the warm air and a sense of isolation that they felt.
Dawn came and when they could see what they were doing they continued on their way until, before the end of that day they could see the neighbouring village stretching out below them from the high point of the mountain pass.
They could see, as they gazed down, that there were, of course, still scars left by the volcanic explosion, but they didn’t trouble Owongo because stretching beyond it and as far as he could see was what could only be a forest made for hunting, and he knew he was good at that. And also there were two or three yawning cave entrances and no sign of occupation. They would find a home for shelter, and all would be well.
The sun was overhead when they were almost at ground level and they had one far from unpleasant surprise. The only man who he knew in the new village was standing as if waiting, and smiling at him.
“Owongo, my friend,” said Quanto, “And Mirumda, of all the goodness! I knew you would come. That Dickhead and his mates were too much, don’t you think? I have a small selection of homes for you to choose from. There is one free cave and two unused shacks that need very little attention. Come: I will show you!”
“A cave would be nice,” smiled Owongo
“Or a nice big shack,” added Mirumda.
THE END
© Peter Rogerson 26. 11.23
...