“Don’t you see, all the words she utters are really Mhlakaza’s words? She is Mhlakaza’s medium. The same Mhlakaza who was spreading lies, telling us that we must follow the god of the white man. The very white man who killed the son of his own god!”
But Twin was no longer listening. He was humming the song that people sang after Nongqawuse had made her prophecies about the new people who would come from the dead with new animals after all the contaminated ones had been killed.
“Now, I want you to listen very carefully, Twin,” said Twin-Twin, trying very hard to muster as much patience as was possible. “I can see you are taking a dangerous path. We have our own god. And he has no son either. Unlike the god of the white man or of your wife’s people.”
Twin replied defensively, “Unlike the white people, the Khoikhoi did not kill the son of their god.”
“It does not matter. What I am saying is, stick to your own god and his true prophets. Leave other people’s gods, including those gods’ sons, daughters, or any other members of their families.”
In the days that followed, Twin seemed to have found peace and calmness at last. He embraced the stories that were beginning to spread that Mhlakaza had actually visited the land of the dead — the Otherworld where the ancestors lived — and had been caressed by the shadow of King Hintsa. Even though almost twenty years had passed since King Hintsa had been brutally murdered in 1835 by Governor Sir Benjamin D’Urban, the amaXhosa people still remembered him with great love. They had not forgotten how D’Urban had invited the king to a meeting, promising him that he would be safe, only to cut off his ears as souvenirs and ship his head to Britain. There must be something in Nongqawuse’s prophecies if Mhlakaza could be caressed by the shadow of the beloved king.
Twin was attracted not only by the good news that new cattle would come with the new people from the Otherworld. Nongqawuse had also pronounced that if the people killed all their cattle and set all their granaries alight, the spirits would rise from the dead and drive all the white people into the sea. Who would not want to see the world as it was before the cursed white conquerors — who were capable of killing even the son of their own god — had been cast by the waves onto the lands of the amaXhosa?
The good news also captured the imagination of King Sarhili, King Hintsa’s son. He had not forgotten how he had accompanied his father into D’Urban’s camp and had fortunately escaped when his father was held hostage for a ransom of twenty-five thousand cattle and five hundred horses. Since he had heard that his father had been gunned down when he tried to escape, his anger against the British had never diminished. His pained words were recalled every day in many an umXhosa household, “Where is my father? He is dead. He died by the hands of these people. He was killed in his own country. He died without fighting.”
These prophecies presented his nation with a great opportunity to avenge itself against the puppies of Queen Victoria.
Although Sarhili was chief of the amaGcaleka clan, he was recognized as the king of all the clans of the amaXhosa. Even those amaXhosa who lived in the lands that were now under British rule paid allegiance to him. When he showed great interest in the prophecies, many amaXhosa people followed him.
There was great excitement at Twin’s homestead when the news arrived that King Sarhili would be riding from his Great Place at Hohita to the sea. He was undertaking this journey of a day and part of the night because he wanted to see for himself the wonders that everyone was talking about.
Twin and Qukezwa were at Mhlakaza’s homestead early in the morning. On Qukezwa’s back was their new yellow-colored baby son, Heitsi, named after the savior of the Khoikhoi. This naming of Xikixa’s grandson after his mother’s people — instead of his father’s, as was the custom — convinced Twin-Twin that his twin brother was now an absolute louse in the seams of his wife’s isikhakha skirt. But Twin had already shown on many occasions that when it came to his relationship with Qukezwa he was a man of his own mind.
Although it was in the middle of a very cold winter, people were beginning to gather from all directions. Others had already camped at the banks of the Gxarha River. They had been there for many days listening to Nongqawuse, who was still seeing the Strangers almost every day. Sometimes she would be overwhelmed by the spirit so much that she got sick. Then Mhlakaza would take over and make his pronouncements. But the favorite of the people, and even of the chiefs, was young Nombanda, who talked so sweetly of the beautiful life that awaited those who carried out the instructions of the Strangers.
At midday King Sarhili and his entourage arrived amidst the ululation of women. Neither Twin nor Qukezwa had ever seen him before. He looked impressive in his leopard-skin cape. His long beard was glistening in the winter sun.
The whole place was filled with song and dance. The festive mood permeated the air, the river, and the great ocean. Everyone was filled with love for everyone else. It was wonderful to be there, to be loved so much, and to love others without reservation.
The same voice that had spoken to Nongqawuse spoke to King Sarhili as well. He heard with his own ears the instructions of the Strangers. At a distance on the waves of the sea he saw his own son who had recently died. He was alive and well and living with King Hintsa in the Otherworld. He saw his favorite horse that had also recently died. It was happily frolicking with the very horse his father rode just before he met his fate at the hands of D’Urban’s headhunters.
A feast was laid out for the king. He was served a fresh pot of beer by Nongqawuse herself, and was shown a fresh ear of corn. Fresh corn in the middle of winter? This, he was told, came with the new people from the Otherworld.
“I have never tasted such wonderful beer,” said King Sarhili as he removed foam from his beard. “It is indeed the beer from the world of the ancestors. A wonderful life awaits my people. But can these wonderful promises of the Strangers not be fulfilled without destroying all the existing cattle?”
“It cannot happen,” answered Mhlakaza. “The instructions are firm on that matter. The present animals are contaminated. So are the present crops. The Strangers made it clear that the new ones will not come unless we do as we are told. The new people, our ancestors, will not rise from the dead until we have cleansed the earth by destroying all our cattle and all our crops both in the fields and in the granaries.”
“The instructions are clear,” said the king. “But my herds are too many. I shall only ask that I be given three months to destroy them all.”
In the following weeks the king began to kill his cattle. The first victim was his best bull, which was famous for its beauty in all the land. Poets had recited poems and musicians had composed songs about it. When it fell, people knew that there was no turning back. The cattle had to be killed.
At the same time he sent imiyolelo—his formal commands — throughout kwaXhosa that all amaXhosa should obey Mhlakaza’s instructions.
Twin and Qukezwa formed part of the regular throngs that went to Mhlakaza’s place daily.
“You have been taken up by this foolishness, child of my mother,” Twin-Twin warned him, “and you neglect your cattle and fields.”
“What is the use of looking after them when they are going to die in any case?” responded Twin. “I am going to destroy them.”