CHAPTER TWENTY SIX - AMASSING THE WARRIORS
Gatsheni made his way to Kwekwe and went directly to the narrow alleyway where he knew he would find the witchdoctor and his apprentice. He always felt a slight thrill of fear when he came here, as he did when he had to deal with any of the witchdoctors in this country. He felt they were unpredictable, holding too much influence for the amount of real power they held. Since the time of Lobengula and Mzilikazi, the witchdoctors had been tolerated at best, used when it was prudent, but often murdered when things went wrong. There was a fine line between those who genuinely contacted the spirits and those who went beyond, who used magic as a force.
He entered the yard at the end of the alley and after finding it empty, he sat on the ground with his back to the fence, facing the entrance and prepared himself to wait.
It wasn’t long before the gate opened again and two men came in, dressed casually in t-shirts and shorts, barefoot, and each carrying a small bag. One was the young apprentice, to whom Gatsheni paid little or no attention, instead focusing his gaze on the older man, a tall thin figure, almost wizened, who would seem feeble until you saw his eyes. He glared at the old induna with undisguised contempt, remembering his ancestors who had suffered at the hands of the kings and their indunas over decades past.
‘The white man and his woman were here.’ He said without any pretence at preamble or polite conversation. ‘They saw Mthoko,’ he pointed towards the younger man, ‘and then they left.’
‘What did they say? What did he say?’ Gatsheni still refused to acknowledge the apprentice, but was anxious for an answer.
‘They said nothing, but Mthoko warned them, he saw their plan within them and he mixed a potion that will weaken them.’ The witchdoctor seemed proud of his young assistant.
‘That seems good,’ Gatsheni acknowledged, ‘and where are they now?’
‘They head for Nkayi. We must leave soon to catch up with them again.’ Mthoko spoke for the first time and Gatsheni turned to face him, just briefly recognising his presence.
‘Then let us not waste time. We must go now.’ Gatsheni turned and headed for the door, not waiting for the other two men to follow. Two pairs of eyes blazed at the old man’s retreating back and they didn’t move for a moment, torn between fulfilling a promise they had made and simply killing this man who treated them like the dirt on the ground.
Gatsheni though had a weapon powerful enough to clear their heads. ‘Come now,’ he called over his shoulder, ‘or I will pay you nothing for your services.’
He was happy at the way things were going now. He had called the other indunas who had all sworn allegiance to him and had assured him that their warriors were on the way to the killing ground. The white man would die soon. That they had promised.
He smiled as he walked back to the street from the alleyway, silently conversing with his ancestors, assuring them of a victory drenched in the blood of the two invaders.