"Metutu, if you limit your experiences, you limit your knowledge. Sometimes the wisest statement is a question. Do you understand?"
"Uh, I guess.”
Makedde smiled. “Once there were three brothers. One who knew, one who knew who knew, and one who knew nothing. When the evil spirits came to the one who knew, the one who knew knew what to do. The one who knew who knew what to do asked the one who knew and then he too knew what to do. The one who knew nothing to do knew too late that he should have known who knew what he did not know.”
Metutu was busy counting on his fingers and whispering to himself. “Run that by me again?”
Makedde laughed. “Just remember this. The path of wisdom begins with curiosity and ends with enlightenment.”
“Oh!” Metutu smiled.
Later the two paused under the shade of a thorny acacia to rest. Makedde glanced up at the sun, observing the orb's position in the sky. "My boy, it is highsun. Why don't we sit down and eat lunch."
"Whassa matter, you too old and tired to keep going?" Metutu teased gently. He tugged slightly at the beard jutting from his older brother's chin. "Look at that. Shot with gray already. Tell us a story, Gramps!"
Makedde chuckled lightly, tossing him a breadfruit with great dexterity. "Young pup. All right, eat your lunch and I will."
Metutu grinned, forearms flexing as he tore the fruit in half and handed a piece back to his brother. He bit deeply, enjoying the feeling of the juice running down his chin. Wiping it away, he chewed slowly as Makedde began to speak.
"A long time ago in the reign of the great king Ramalah-"
"What kind of a name is that?" Metutu laughed. "Ramalah? What was he, a gibbon?"
Makedde frowned. "Metutu, Ramalah was once the Lion King of the Pride Lands. Over thirty generations ago, he and his ilk were absolute rulers of this land."
Metutu stopped laughing immediately. "The Lion King? Really?"
"Yes. Their land is much smaller now, and lies far to the west."
Metutu gazed across the land. "Wow. Do you think we'll see a lion?"
"Doubtful. They rarely venture this far out." Makedde cleared his throat. "Anyway, Ramalah's wife Chakula had given birth to twin sons, N'ga and Sufa. Now the queen has many responsibilities, and so she must often leave her cubs in the care of another. The queen's favorite baby-sitter was Alba, her younger sister."
Makedde scratched his leg idly and smoothed the fur back into place.
"One day, while N'ga and Sufa were being watched by Alba, they were caught in a cave-in."
"What's that?"
"You remember what Busara's home looks like? The Chief Scribe?"
"Yes."
"Well, imagine what would happen if the roof fell in. That's a cave-in."
Metutu looked horrified. "Gods, that's awful! What happened?"
"Well, the three lions were trapped in the cave. One day passed, and then another. N'ga and Sufa grew weak with hunger, for young cubs need milk, and Alba had none to give. So she opened the veins in her foreleg and gave the two cubs her lifeblood, to sustain them until Chakula freed them several days later."
"Oh, no!" Metutu looked stricken. "Did Alba die?"
"Yes."
"But why? She didn't do anything wrong!"
"She gave her life so that the cubs would live, brother. And her sacrifice has never been forgotten, for the red flower of Alba, 'the blood of mercy,' is a shaman's most prized medicine." Makedde stretched, then rose, picking up his staff. "Time to get on."
As Makedde walked back slowly, he wondered at the deep silence from his young brother. “Maybe I pushed it too far too fast,” he fretted. “He may not be ready.”
"Makedde?"
He turned to look at Metutu.
"I was talking with Asumini the other day."
"Which day?" Makedde chuckled. "You talk with her quite often, brother."
Metutu socked him in the arm lightly. "I'm serious, Makedde!"
"OK. What about?"
"She told me...well...'Greatness is a matter of the heart, not an accident of birth.'"
Makedde's heart sang as he fought to keep still. "That's very true."
"You think so?" Metutu smiled, relieved. "I think Alba was pretty great, don't you?"
"Indeed."
“I mean, I bet Mom would have done that for us.”
Makedde smiled. “I know she would have. Love is the source of all greatness.” Makedde resumed walking, Metutu alongside. "There are countless others just like her. Her sacrifice is an example. Others may not give up as much as she, but their gifts are never ignored by Aiheu."
Metutu looked at him wonderingly. "I thought you sounded like Asumini. You believe in Him too?"
The mandrill smiled openly. "I do. His teachings are not those of trickery and deceit, but love and trust. These are the things I would share with you, brother. And they are all I ask in return."
“Then I guess I believe in Aiheu.”
Makedde hugged his brother roughly, then patted his shoulder. “I see promise in you, my brother. Great things lie within your grasp.”
Makedde finally stopped. "Ah! Here we are."
Metutu looked ahead, seeing the dead tree they had sighted this morning. "So what? It's a tree."
"Nope. Look closer." The two moved up next to the tall spire. Metutu ran a hand along it and was surprised to see small grains flake away at his touch. "Why, it's made of dirt!" He looked around, warily.
"What made this?"
"Look down."
Metutu glanced down and saw tiny forms scurrying madly at their feet. "Ugh! Termites! They made this?"
"Indeed." Makedde knelt and scooped a handful up, watching them crawl frantically about on his palm. "Tiniest of creatures, yet they build homes as hard as rock, and as tall as trees. They are the epitome of hard work, Metutu. But too much is just as bad as not enough."
"Hmm?"
Makedde knelt and gently brushed the insects off. "They toil all their lives, yet take no time to enjoy the beauty of the earth, and the gifts that Aiheu has blessed us with. To find happiness, Metutu, you must find some kind of middle ground." Makedde turned away and resumed walking back the way they had came.
They had only walked a short distance when Makedde paused. "No, this will not do."
"What's wrong?"
"My brother, you follow me like the jackal pups follow their mother. Roam if you like. Stop and smell a flower. Look at a cloud. Enjoy yourself, for goodness sake!" Makedde laughed and ruffled Metutu's head roughly.
"Cut it out!" Metutu laughed, poking Makedde in the ribs. The older mandrill yelped, falling back as Metutu tackled him playfully. The two rolled about in the grass, laughing and giggling wildly. Tiring finally, they lay on their backs quietly, staring upward at the brilliant azure sky.
"Look! There goes a bird!"
"What?" Metutu looked curiously. "I don't see any birds, except for a vulture in that tree over there."
"He probably thinks we're his dinner," Makedde chuckled. "I'm happy to disappoint him. No, I'm talking about that cloud up there. See it? It looks like a little bird."
Metutu stared hard. "I don't get it."
"See the end? That's the beak. And that part on top is a wing..."
"Oh!" Metutu exclaimed. "I see it! I see it!" He laughed delightedly. "It does look like a bird!" He peered about avidly, his eyes roving from spot to spot. "Look! There's a tortoise!"