March 1757
"Thando?!"
Vusi jolted awake, torn from the suffocating grip of unconsciousness. His first thought was the first thing he saw and that was his right-hand woman, his trusted captain. Her face hovering above his, smiling. A rare and disarming expression.
But something was wrong.
He blinked, trying to focus, his mind sluggish. Thando's face, it looked less mature than the one he'd known. Her features were child-like , her stature unimposing.
However something else took him a moment to fully grasp: Thando was massive, towering over him, and judging by the proximity of her face to his, she was carrying him.
That wasn't even the most jarring realization.
Thando was in black and white. Gone were her striking hazel eyes, the warm brown tones of her skin that he had long admired. Now, everything was stark, stripped of color. Her entire form had been drained of life, relegated to mere shades of black and white.
"What is happening?" he muttered, trying to shift his head, to look left and right, but nothing responded.
He couldn't move his neck. He couldn't move anything; his arms, his legs. It was as though his body had become a prisoner to some unseen force.
"Captain, what's going on?" His voice came out more as a desperate plea than an authoritative command, the confusion in his tone unmissable. The last thing he remembered was a deafening bang. The world dissolving into darkness- and now, this.
But Thando said nothing. She just smiled, that strange, eerie smile that sent a chill through him. She was supposed to answer him, to explain the situation, to give him a report.
And yet here she was, silent, smiling. Thando never smiled, not like this. What was wrong with her? What had happened?
"No, something's off". His thoughts spiraled. "Could she have… betrayed me?"
The notion felt treacherous, but it gnawed at him. How else could this impossible situation make sense? A covert operation, meticulously planned, executed by soldiers who had no idea they were even part of it.
And yet, somehow, the enemy had known. They had been ready. And his entire regiment had been wiped out.
He had considered the possibility of a mole at Headquarters, but no organization, no matter how ruthless, would sacrifice an entire regiment just to eliminate one target.
There had to be someone inside the regiment. Someone who leaked the information. His mind recoiled from the thought, but it was the only explanation that fit.
His thoughts were approaching dangerous territory; accusations of treason, of betrayal. Thando wouldn't… rigth?
Before he could fully follow that train of thought, Thando's voice cut through the haze. But it wasn't the cold, calculating tone he had come to expect from her in critical moments. No, this was different. Softer, almost reverent.
"Thank the ancestors. It's a boy."
Vusi's heart skipped a beat. Those words... he had heard them in Zulu. But Thando didn't speak Zulu. She had never cared for the language, had never embraced the culture despite her name's origins.
Though she was proud of her mixed-race heritage, Thando had always distanced herself from her Zulu roots. She refused to learn the language. He knew that better than anyone.
And yet, there she was, speaking it fluently.
He couldn't make sense of it. This couldn't be real. He had never expected to hear her utter a word in Zulu, and certainly not in such a serene tone. What was happening?
Then came the next blow, the words that shook him to his core.
"My princess concort, would you like to see your son?"
Everything inside him froze.
Son?
He tried to wrap his mind around it, but the words kept slipping through his grasp, like water through his fingers. Thando, his captain, his comrade, was speaking to someone else. Someone she called "My princess concort." And apparently he was... this princess' son?
No. It couldn't be.
"I died…"
At first glance, the scene before him was disorienting, but as he looked closer, it began to make sense. Thando, whom he expected to see in a military uniform or maybe civilian clothes, stood before him dressed in a traditional Nguni mini-skirt made from cattle hide.
Her upper body was uncovered, her chest openly visible, a natural and unapologetic display that spoke to the customs of the Nguni people.
Surrounding her were other women, some dressed in the same short leather skirts, while others wore longer skirts and covered their chests with cow hides as well.
Yet, one thing was consistent. They all left their hair natural, unstyled.
This was another detail that stood out to him; even in battlefield settings, most women took care to maintain their hair neatly, even with its coarse, natural texture.
The setting around them was equally striking. The hut he stood in was constructed from thatch and wood, its structure bearing visible cracks.
It was far removed from the modern homes of bricks and cement he had grown accustomed to. Despite its humble appearance, this was the birthplace of chiefs, a sacred space steeped in tradition and history.
As he absorbed the details of the scene, a realization struck him like a sudden wave.
"The Hindus got it right. Reincarnation..."
It was too much. The information was overwhelming, like a flood breaking through a dam. His thoughts blurred, unable to process the enormity of it.
And whether it was the mental strain or the sheer absurdity of his new reality. His body; small, weak, helpless- couldn't bear it.
He slipped back into unconsciousness, the world fading once again into black.
....
While Vusi rested, likely hoping that when he woke up 'for real,' all of this would turn out to be just a dream, the rest of the room wished the opposite.
Princess Consort Mthaniya had blessed the tribe with a healthy heir, and the atmosphere was vibrant with a mix of relief and joy.
Some members could barely stand, while others ululated softly, careful not to disturb the Princess Consort. Who had fallen asleep with the crown prince cradled in her arms as soon as she knew her son was safe.
Amid this celebration, which felt like a scene from a classic African film, two of the midwives quietly slipped out of the hut, avoiding the merriment.
She made her way to another hut occupied by a group of young girls and women dressed in cowhide mini skirts, their bare breasts visible, a testament to their youth and vitality.
Among them stood one girl who distinguished herself from the rest. Her skirt was intricately adorned with beadwork, and her upper body was decorated with elaborate beads interwoven with animal skins, likely telling the stories of her family and status.
Despite her regal appearance, her smooth, plump face revealed her youth. She was the youngest in the group.
When the midwife saw her, she froze, bowing deeply. "My princess, my princess," she stammered, her eyes glued to the floor. "The ancestors have blessed the princess consort with a birth free of complications."
The princess, Mkabayi, remained silent. Her gaze penetrating as it fixed on the midwife, making her shiver with trepidation. The tension in the air was thick. Finally, Princess Mkabayi broke the silence, her voice low and steady, "Boy or girl?"
Without hesitation, the midwife replied, "A boy."
Silence enveloped the room, the other girls showing no reaction, their faces impassive as they waited for the princess's response.
Ignoring their stares, a surge of energy coursed through Princess Mkabayi. Without a second thought, she strode out of the hut, the midwife following closely behind.
Princess Mkabayi rushed into the hut where the Princess Consort her newborn son rested, disregarding her royal demeanor as she exclaimed, "Let me see! Let me see!"
"Princess, do not raise your voice," one of the midwives in the hut whispered, trying to calm her. "The princess consort is very tired after giving birth. We do not wish to disturb her."
But Princess Mkabayi shot them a cold glare. "Speak to me like that again, and I will cut out your tongue."
The room fell silent, the midwives suddenly reminded of the princess's fearsome reputation. In a society that expected women to be submissive, she was known for her cruelty and ferocity especially at a young age of seven, traits more commonly found in the most ruthless of men.
However, that was not the main reason they fear her.
Satisfied with the quiet, she demanded again, "Let me see my brother." The midwives hesitated but ultimately led her to where the newborn and his mother lay.
The moment she laid eyes on the baby, Princess Mkabayi froze, not out of fear. She knew she had no claim to the throne as a woman, but from overwhelming joy. Subconsciously, she stretched out her arms and commanded,
"Bring him to me."
The midwives exchanged anxious glances. One of them longed to protest, her instinct to protect the infant battling her fear of the Princess Mkabayi. But she felt the grip of her colleague, stopping her from testing the princess's patience.
Sensing their hesitation, Princess Mkabayi frowned, her voice laced with menace. "Do not make me repeat myself. You are not a wife; you are my father's servant. Now, give me my brother."
With no further protest, the midwife gently lifted the sleeping prince from his mother's arms and handed him over. The baby lay peacefully, undisturbed by the transfer, resting quietly in his half-sister's arms. The princess smiled, a rare, tender smile. "My little sleeper," she whispered.
Without another word, she exited the hut, cradling the baby, the midwife trailing closely behind. Though the midwife didn't need to accompany her, Princess Mkabayi knew it was important to display her backing in this Machiavellian environment of the Zulu tribe, and the midwife deserved recognition for her loyalty.
The other midwives, too fearful to object, watched as the princess made her way to the royal hut, where the Crown Prince resided.
...
Inside, a mixed group of elderly and middle-aged men sat, dressed in antelope-hide kilts. Among them, only one stood out—Crown Prince Jama kaNdaba, remained unmoved at her entrance. But his eyes spoke volumes; they had been waiting for news for two long days.
Seeing her father in such a state, the princess simply declared, "Father, I bring good news. I want to check on maMthaniya. And the maids only speak of great things about her future health."
The atmosphere shifted instantly. Some men leapt to their feet, beginning to dance, while others congratulated the crown prince.
The reason why for this shift in atmosphere was obivously because of the statement that princess spoken, however more specifically the 'Ma' honorific she gave to the princess consort. Which meant that Mthaniya was now a mother, and the baby in the Princess's hands only reinforced that fact.
While Jama's facial expression did not change to the news as he let everyone take in the Royal hut take in the information however they wished, before he lifted his hand. Causing everyone in the room to remain silent before he asked, " Boy or girl?"
The Princess smirked at how similar her father's line of questioning was to hers as she then answered, " Boy."
Which caused Jama to be visibly releaved that he had not failed all those who came before him as their lineage would continue. While a though that only seemed to add on his good mood began to appear in his mind.
"I should tell father the good news."
---
While the other midwife, Sne, decided to subtly leave the princess consort's hut, she didn't enter another royal hut like the other midwife did. Instead, she moved swiftly across the kraal, careful not to draw attention. She passed other members of the Zulu tribe, resisting the urge to sprint as that would alarm the community.
Her pace was brisk, purposeful, until she reached a smaller hut. Humble compared to the royal quarters.
Stopping at the entrance, Sne called out a name: "Gogo Kanya!" Her voice carried urgency. A raspy reply came from inside, sounding as though the speaker had spent years smoking: "Come in."
She then took off her shoes and without hesitation, Sne stepped into the dimly lit hut.
Inside, the air was thick with the scent of burning herbs, and the room was filled with objects such as bones, beads, and clay pots. In the center sat a woman wrapped in hide made from ostrich and cattle hide.
Despite being addressed as 'Gogo' meaning grandmother, she was remarkably young, perhaps in her mid-20s. The reason why, was because the nguni believed in a age hierarchy where the oldest of the group where treated with the utmost respect.
And to calling a sangoma, Gogo (grandmother) or Mkhulu (grandfather) was a way of showing them respect. As they where being compared to the highest status a person could attain, besides royalty, in nguni society.
And though Gogo Kanya's eyes were closed, they screamed her irritation with what she regarded as a intruder of her space.
"What is it, midwife? You've disturbed me," the woman said, her tone clipped.
Sne. Understanding the sangoma's annoyance, went on her kness and dipped her head in respect. "Forgive me, Gogo, but I bring urgent news. The prince's wife has given birth. It's a boy."
The sangoma's expression shifted instantly as on eye opened. She then leaned forward, her curiosity piqued. "Are you sure?" she asked, her voice now low and intense.
"Yes, I am sure," the midwife replied, nodding emphatically.
The sangoma stared at her for a long moment, then released an unceremonious burp that seemed to echo through the small hut. Muttering under her breath, she said, "This... I see."
....
Nguni - The Nguni people are a linguistic cultural group of Bantu cattle herders who migrated from central Africa into Southern Africa, made up of ethnic groups formed from iron age and proto-agrarians, with offshoots in neighboring colonially-created countries in Southern Africa.
Kraal - Kraal (also spelled craal or kraul) is an Afrikaans and Dutch word, also used in South African English, for an enclosure for cattle or other livestock, located within a Southern African settlement or village surrounded by a fence of thorn-bush branches, a palisade, mud wall, or other fencing, roughly circular in form
Zulu - Zulu people (/ˈzuːluː/; Zulu: amaZulu) are a native people of Southern Africa of the Nguni
Mthaniya - Mother of Senzangakhona, not much is know about in history.
Mkabayi - Princess Mkabayi kaJama (c. 1750–1843) was a Zulu princess, the head of the Qulusi military kraal, and a regent of the Zulu Kingdom
Jama kaNdaba - King Jama ka-Ndaba (Born:1727–Died:1781) the son of King Ndaba kaMageba, was king of the Zulu Kingdom from 1763 to 1781