Story time! Story time!
The whole village was shocked. The news they had just heard was too good to be true. How could Senior induna on the village council resign all of a sudden? But true it was. The village induna in charge of the warriors, Great Bulk Madumbo (GBM), had resigned. Apparently he had resigned because he wasn’t happy with the way the Great chief was persecuting his clan, the monkey eating clan.
Madumbo had announced his resignation in grand style. Somehow he had managed to manoeuvre his bulk on to an anthill upon which he bellowed fire and brimstone upon the Great Chief. He accused the great chief of persecuting his clan and asking him to choose between his clan and his position on the village council. He had assured the people that he told the Great One to go to hell as his allegiance was with his clan, the monkey eaters.
The Great Chief was shaken. No one in the entire village had ever dared challenge his tyranny and bullying. But now his own induna had slapped him in the face. All along, the great chief had thought he had all his indunas in his pocket; but he was wrong, Madumbo was a different species – he was free spirited. Unlike the other indunas who scrapped for a living at the Great Chiefs table, Madumbo was quite rich and comfortable. He owned big farms which supplied the village grainery with maize.
What made the pill the more bitter to swallow was the love and support Madumbo was receiving for his ‘principled’ charade. It was simply amazing. Everyone throughout the village sympathized with Madumbo’s stance. It seemed they had all forgotten that not too long ago he had been part of the gluttonous lot of indunas sucking the village dry of its food. Madumbo had somehow metamorphosed from villain to hero overnight.
But the Great Chief was surely going to react. He was not known to shy away from a fight. He had a ruthless reputation for the way he dealt with his perceived enemies. He was determined to have the last shot. And he was going to use every means at his disposal to deal with Madumbo.
Little did Madumbo know that his little act of machismo had invoked the wrath of a king cobra. The repercussions would certainly be atrocious. His contract to supply the village grainery would be cancelled. Armed impis would surround the village anthill to stop him from even talking to his own clansmen. The Great Chief’s dogs of war, the shushushu, would be set upon him. The propaganda machinery would be in high gear against him. The basest of wrongs to the grandest of crimes would be charged on him.
Had Madumbo fully comprehended the consequences of bruising the Great Chief’s ego, he would have recoiled from his resignation at supersonic speed. But now it was too late. The time to dance chachacha had come.
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