He says quietly, “I have no idea. You’ll have to ask Minshasa.” That was the pass phrase by which Aiheusists in hiding recognize each other.
Busara took the boy by the arm. With almost pleading in his voice, he said, “I know you are the son of the chief, but I also know why he sent you here. Now I ask you in all sincerity to tell me you are not here to spy on me. That before the gods all you seek is the truth for your soul’s sake.”
“That is all I seek,” Metutu said. “My father teaches me that the gods argue among themselves, that they have been known to cheat and even steal. My brother tells me that the creator is perfect and holy, and that he loves us all. I want so bad to believe he is right. I watched the birds just now. I cannot believe that the beauty I see, and the good things I feel when I see it came from petty, thieving, lazy gods that must be bribed to bring the rain and heal the sick. If I were God, I’d do those things to make people happy.”
“Let me tell you why I believe. Son, you are much closer than you think to the source of faith. Aiheu is not a secret hidden under a rock. The work of his hand is everywhere, filling the world with beauty and wonder. Open your heart and take it in. The hardest task would be NOT to believe.”
In the golden flickering light of the lamps, Busara’s kindly face looked almost godlike. “Look, son. See the paintings?”
Metutu looked at the walls. They were covered by paintings much like the ones on Makedde’s baobab, but done with such skill and artistry that it took Metutu’s breath away.
“I have to keep the lights out in this place when Kinara comes calling. I wish they could be visible to the public, where the words of comfort they represent could become bind to their hearts and settle in their minds.”
Metutu was humbled. “I’m sorry I called you an evil sorcerer. You know, we kids grew up telling stories about sacrifices of goats by the light of the full moon.”
“Once I was brought a goat carcass. I had to cut it up for some sick lion cubs. It might have been a night of the full moon--I don’t know. All I know is that I couldn’t let them starve to death.” Busara shook his head. “And to think that I love children so much. Perhaps you will put in a good word when gossips tell their tales?”
“I’ll try.”
Metutu looked up and down the wall. He recognized many of the paintings from his brother’s work, but one thing was missing. “Where is your story? I bet it’s interesting.”
Busara smiled. “I like to think so. Let me see your hands.” He took a look at Metutu’s palms by the lantern light. “They are young and fresh, not used to hard work.” His own were callused. “Hard work is part of my story.” He tugged at his gray beard. “Worry about my daughter’s future. Her first case of Dol Sani and her near death from pneumonia.” He drew his finger down the deep lines etched in his cheeks. “Long hours of study, tending the sick, teaching lore, crying tears and smiling smiles.” He drew his finger across the deep wrinkles on his forehead. “Late nights with sick lion cubs and a couple of leopards. Oh yes, my story is plainly written. The youth has been pulled from my outside, but inside I still feel like the young buck that earned these.”
He showed Metutu the back of his hand with five parallel scars. “To you they are ugly scars. To me they are beautiful. You see, my lioness sister Asumini was once warm and strong like you and I.” He took from around his neck a grass cord from which hung an ivory fang. “Once she could bear me on her back without thinking about it. Now I wear what’s left of her next to my heart.” His eyes began to grow misty. “If you learn anything from me, learn this. Love well and for always. For everything else a shaman does is but leaves and branches.” He patted the column of stone. “Love is the trunk and the root of all good things.”
Busara sat on a prepared cushion of leaves. He motioned for Metutu to do likewise. “I’m going to tell you a love story. One that is strange, for it is about a young mandrill shaman and a lioness. Listen well to my words, for I can make you look, but I can’t make you see.”
“Is she the one I heard rumors about?”
“The rumors pale next to the truth.” He fondled the relic and kissed it. “Once I was in search of worldly treasures. And instead I discovered God. Only I did not recognize the significance of the moment, for the truth came in the form of a wounded lioness.
“At great risk I tended her wound and saved her life. Her name was Asumini. It means ‘jasmine,’ and may I say that the flower is more beautiful because it bears her name?” He put the tooth back around his neck. “She received comfort to the body, but returned to give me comfort to the spirit. Everything that came before I count as loss. Everything that has happened since I treasure. Through her eyes, I have seen face to face what others only saw dimly reflected. Because of her, I have seen the face of Aiheu and slept at the feet of Minshasa and Mano. And I will sit with them when I die, among the great kings of the past.”
“Who are the great kings?”
“Those whose hearts are warm with the joy of service. It is good to receive eternal life. It is far greater to give eternal love. In the beginning all animals were brother spirits. In the end they will all be brothers once more. Some of those spirits will be weak cubs crying out for milk. Others will answer their cry and say, ‘Come you who hunger for my milk. No one shall I turn away.’” He drew close to Metutu and took his hand. “Aiheu calls to you. He says, ‘Metutu, feed my cubs. Feed my cubs.’”
Metutu slowly knelt and bowed his head. Busara rested his hand on his head and blessed him.
“Aiheu, come into my heart! I will feed your cubs! I swear!”
Busara knelt beside him and put his arms around Metutu. “Bless you, son! I have lived to see the promise fulfilled in you. The light will not go out!”
Kinara loved his son, but there was a depth and genuine warmth to Busara that endeared him to Metutu at once. “When I am Chief, everyone will see your paintings, and there will be no punishment for worshipping as your heart dictates.”
Tears came to Busara’s eyes. “I have lived to see this moment! Now I can die happy!”
CHAPTER 12: BREAKING BREAD
Busara told him, “Let’s celebrate. How about something to eat?”
“Fine!”
“Then come on. We’ll prepare it together.” A second later Busara added, “I forget you have servants. Do you know how to prepare a meal?”
“What I don’t know, you can show me.”
“That attitude will take you places, my son!” Busara put his arm around the smiling Metutu and led him into the pantry.
The year-round cool of the deeper cave passages made it possible to store greens in fresh-picked condition for quite a while. Busara found all the fruit and vegetables he needed in the flickering light of his lamp.
“I can’t believe this!” Metutu saw herbs and fruits that he knew were out of season. “This is incredible! You’re a genius!”
Busara laughed. “I make a mean fruit salad too.” He took a mango and took a sharp dagger from the wall that he used to slice it into this sections, then dice them.
“What is that??”
“It’s a man thing. There was a big male that drowned in the river a few years back. Very sad, but he was wearing this. I figured he didn’t need it anymore.”
“A man thing? But those are cursed!”
“No. The only time it’s cursed is when it rests in an evil hand. Funny thing about those big hairless creatures: for all their collections of things, they are mortal and full of fears just like us. Aiheu made us all for one reason or another. I haven’t figured out why he made their kind yet, but it’s enough just knowing he had a reason to show a little tolerance and understanding.” He smiled. “They do make some great stuff, though.”