There was no special woman in his life. He had sworn to make all the virgins given to him as gifts on his coronation night pregnant. The thought of it stirred his blood. He drank the mimosa roots to increase his vitality. He slaughtered bleating sheep and goats on the shrines of strength every fortnight. He ate like an animal. All, preparing for his coronation night.
This old man, ought to visit the gallows already. That stool should be mine.
This was a constant thought in his mind. But his father, the great Chief Xima, lived on. It looked like he was getting younger.
Anjiko never let anyone serve her son. She was afraid someone might put a spell dagger in his food. After all, they had so many enemies. Most of the chief's wives had daughters only. Xumba was the heir to the stool. Uttermost care had to be observed. His meals were to be prepared in a special way. Anjiko used the flaming flowers from the Chota sacred hills to add spice and hotness to his meals. He liked it that way he said it made his thunder wilder.
Xumba was bold. He was brave. He was a skimmer. He was not the type to be shaken by mere woman, even if she was a goddess. His father had asked him to offer himself with pride and dignity because his lineage was going to be born in various realms. It was a glorious moment.
"Son, the pain should not deter you from spilling your seed in her," chief Xima told his son.
"Yes father. I will survive through the pain," Xumba had said with his head held high. "I wonder why the goddess picked me. She doesn't know Senerwa is more handsome?"
He tried joking. Xima knew his son was searching for his tongue. Xima was not going to let him have it. He was not going to say anything demeaning about Senerwa his other son. Xumba had learned to pull pain codes on the old man by talking nasty about his precious prince. Chief Xima knew how to evade this tactfully. There was no way one would handle Xumba without tact. He was a proud man. His father knew if he had lived to be chief, his son was an iron fist. His subjects would have broken their backs laboring for him. Chief Xima knew that his son, was more that the three neighboring chiefs, who were selling their subjects to far lands to work in coal mines. Father knew his son well. He shuddered at the thought of what he will become on the stool of chieftaincy.
When the eye of gods announced that Xumba had been chosen for the goddess's womb, chief Xima was evidently relieved. He was worried about Senerwa. That boy held a special place in his heart and the hearts of many people in Karichota. He was the heart of Chota, literally. Should the goddess have gone for Senerwa, Chief Xima would have definitely risked giving him the immortality herb there was no way he was going to lose Senerwa. But fate had better plans. Xumba was picked. Xumba did not look like had any problem with being picked for the ordeal. This was going well.
"Father, you never wanted me to take over chieftaincy. No wonder you refused to take your life and hand it to me," Xumba had complained one time. "if the goddess had not picked on me, would you have let Senerwa die?"
It was a trick question. The chief knew where that was headed. Xumba wanted him to confess that he would have given Senerwa the herb of mortality, to save his life. Xima was not going to respond to that.
"Son, you are not ready for Chieftaincy. You must fit in the shoes of your subjects before you take over. Until then, I am afraid, I cannot join the rested souls," father had tried reasoning with his son.
"But father, I fit in well," Xumba had tried. "besides, I am a Prince, why should I be struggling to fit in the shoes of subjects?"
"you see, that is where you go wrong," Xima went on.
"Nonsense. I am happy the goddess saw my power and picked on me. she knows am the one befitting royalty. Not that weak piece of crap…"
"talk to me like that, and I swear I will end you before the wind arrives," Xima drew his spear. Guards moved forward ready to defend their chief.
"You will soon be carried off to the coal mines, together with that Soft Prince you love. That god I will be gone."
Xumba's voice rose above the chirruping of crickets. The flames in his eyes flashed. There was smoke in his wide nostrils. For a moment his father was scared of his son.
This boy is a danger. I wonder what his mother puts in the meals she makes. Anjiko better not be picking the mortality herbs… The great Xima toyed with the thought. He wished he knew how to handle Anjiko. Anjiko was a mysterious woman who had taken a permanent position in his neck. Causing him pain from the moment they met. With her daggers of death, she was uncontrollable.
"You have never loved me like you do Senerwa? You have always wished I was not born.'
"You are my son. The fruit of my loins. When I look at you, the fierce flames of our forefather's flash in your eyes. No man will survive your temperament, my dear boy. And who wishes their own father's death?"
"Father, I am running out of time. My vitality will soon drop. How will I make ten virgins sire for me if I don't ascend to power when I am still energetic?"
"You are a strong man Xima. The in your veins run my blood. If your father can still shoot seed at seventy seasons, who are you? You are only thirty-five seasons!"
"Okay, father. I might be forced to take you down in a fight if you don't willingly release your soul in the gallows."
Xima knew Xumba was not fit for chieftaincy.
The choice of the Eye was a perfect one. With Xumba out of the way, Serewa, his favorite son, the son of his most beautiful bride was going to be Chief. This brought merry in his heart. It mellowed his old soul. The thought of Serewa ascending to power, shifting the mantle from the house of the first wife, made his blood warm. After all, Anjiko, his first wife was a huge pain in the neck.
Like her son Xumba, she was conniving and vindictive. She looked down upon the other brides and concubines. He shot daggers at their children at birth, especially their sons. That explained why the great chief Xima only had two sons with dozens of daughters from the many wives and concubines. This did not bother the Great Chief. Two sons were two great nations. The fewer the sons, the lesser the feuds. And Now, nature and fate chose to solve his problem and settle the feuds on her hands. One of his sons was going to be drained into the belly of a goddess and the other was going to be Chief. What more could a man ask for?