CHAPTER 10:  THE PATIENCE OF AIHEU

	The sweat rolled down Metutu's face, dripping off the end of his 
nose and making it itch.  But he didn't dare raise a hand to wipe it 
away.  He glared fiercely at the Euphorbia he was trying to uproot.  
Makedde had cautioned that he needed the plant undamaged; the virtue of 
the roots lay right at the skin.  Scraped, they were almost worthless.
	Metutu was locked in mortal combat with the plant.  He bared his 
teeth and grinned at the root.  "Sooner or later, you're going to be 
conquered, and I'm going to laugh at you!  You hear me??"
	Of course the plant did not hear him.  Metutu felt a little 
foolish arguing with it.  He looked at the sensitive root endings 
exposed to the air and decided against using the sharp wooden digging 
stick Makedde had given him.  Sighing, he set it aside and used much of 
his precious water ration to moisten the soil.  Then he worked with his 
fingers to carefully scoop away the mud.  He hissed in irritation as he 
felt his fingertips scrape against the small rocks embedded in the mud, 
but continued to uncover more and more of the plant until it finally 
gave up.  Metutu had managed to outthink a plant, and he grinned in 
triumph.  
	"Stupid old weed!  Did you really think you could win against my 
superior intelligence??"
	Metutu bore the hard-won prize back toward his home in the baobab.  
The sun was hot, and he had no water left to quench his thirst.  Worse, 
the mud that had caked on his hands was hardening into a cement that 
served to irritate the scratches in his skin.  "Next time I'll think to 
bring more water."
	There was a patient with Makedde.  Uwezo looked miserable, and he 
was.  Metutu was hoping to find Makedde alone to share his moment of 
triumph.  And though he was loathe to interrupt a patient, he felt he 
should quickly show his brother him the bulb.  "Hey, look what I got!"
	Makedde looked up a little upset.  "That's nice.  Right now I'm in 
the middle of....oh, look at your hands!"
	"Oh, I scraped them."
	"Why not go pound your head on a rock while you're at it!"  
Makedde sighed at the reckless youth.  "God only gives you one pair of 
hands.  There will always be more bulbs."
	Uwezo laughed.  "You know, that reminds me of...."  He winced.  
"My sore throat.  Sorry."
	Makedde turned back to examining Uwezo.  "Metutu, the Bedango 
extract is right in the...."  He looked around to point, but Metutu was 
already rubbing down his hands.  "Hfff, well pardon me!"
	Metutu dried his hands and stood next to Makedde to watch Uwezo 
describe his symptoms in dreary detail.
	"I couldn't sleep last night," Uwezo droned on.  "Today, however, 
all I wanted to do is sleep.  Then when I lay my head down my pulse 
pounds in my ears.  Tic tic tic all the time.  I have a headache and my 
throat is sore.  And there's this dryness in my nose."
	"Not to mention the itching under your arms," Metutu said.
	"Yeah, that too."  He looked at the young mandrill.  "I didn't 
know you were a shaman too?"
	"Not yet," Makedde said.  "So great Metutu, what is your 
diagnosis?"
	"Brother, that sounds like Dol Sani."
	Makedde burst out laughing, along with his patient. "Dol Sani is a 
CHILDHOOD disease.  And, well, LOOK at him!"
	The rather robust mandrill was a bodyguard for Kinara.  He smiled 
indulgently.  "Oh PWEEZE don't tell my mommy!"
	"So you've never had it before?" Metutu asked.
	"Well no."
	"That's right.  You were an only child and you grew up on the edge 
of the village."  Metutu looked at Makedde with a wry grin.
	"But he MUST have had it at SOME time," said Makedde, 
unbelievingly.  "Everyone gets that growing up.  I mean, it's almost 
tribal law."  He laughed.
	Metutu shrugged.  "I guess so.  Still, the itchy arm pits.  I was 
asked for my opinion...."
	Metutu climbed down to collect more herbs.  He resolved to make no 
more diagnoses that day.
	"That's a fine young brother you've got there, Makedde."
	"Indeed, Uwezo.  He's come a long way."  Makedde chuckled as he 
bent over him again, his sensitive hands exploring under the other 
mandrill's jaw, testing the glands there.  "I remember when you couldn't 
GET him to use his own hands to pick up something.  Now I can't get him 
to keep his hands off..." he broke off, frowning.  Makedde sat back and 
looked at him.  "Did you say your joints ache?"
	Uwezo looked at him, confused.  "Yes, a little.  I'm not old 
enough for the Mifupa, am I?"
	"No, that's different."  Makedde stroked his chin and grinned 
wryly.  "By the gods, I think he's right!  You DO have Dol Sani!"
	Uwezo looked worried.  "How?  I will be a laughingstock!"
	Makedde patted him.  "Nonsense.  Nothing will be said by me or 
Metutu.  Just tell them you have-hmmm--acute pediatric aesthenia."
	"I'm glad you think my Pediatric whatever is cute, but let's just 
say that I have the flu and leave it at that."
	"Fine."  He gave Uwezo an elixir of Protothecus milleri.  "Now 
drink this."
	"Ugh!  It smells nasty."
	"Dwink it or I WILL tell your mommy!"
	Uwezo did not appreciate the joke, but he did appreciate 
blackmail.  He downed the awful remedy that left him reeking of sulfur.  
"Oh gods!"  He took the water gourd offered by Makedde and downed it all 
in a couple of gulps.  "Ugh!  Nasty stuff!"
	He turned to leave.  "You're welcome," Makedde said grimly.  As 
Uwezo walked away, Makedde watched him.  He muttered, "You DO have a 
cute pediatric aesthenia...."  Laughing, he thought about Metutu's 
emerging diagnostic skills.  "I have to tell him about it."
	Hearing a noise below, he looked down.  "Metutu, I want to tell 
you something."
	But it was Kinara, his father.  He looked upset.
	"You could live a little closer to the ground, like civilized 
folk."  Kinara was short of breath.
	Makedde sighed.  "What can I do for you, Father?  Those backaches 
again?"
	Kinara said, "Haven't you done enough already?"
	"What do you mean by that?"
	"I know the love Metutu has for you, and I would not begrudge him 
anything.  But I will NOT stand by and watch you corrupt him."
	Makedde opened his mouth to protest, but was cut off. "Oh, no!  
Don't you try to deny it."
	"Why, because I give him a little work to do?  It's good for the 
soul."
	"PAH!"  Kinara growled.  "A little hard work is fine.  But you 
have filled his head with dry grass!  Lion stories!  Meat-eater 
religions where a lioness nurses cubs with her own blood!  My gods, did 
you think I would want my son to hear that perversion!"
	"It is NOT perversion!  I try to respect all people's beliefs when 
they are sincere about them, but a god that lies and steals is no god of 
mine.  I have dared to hunt out the God whose love is unconditional and 
whose heart is pure."
	Kinara thumped his staff down.  "At least you don't deny it.  You 
were always too honest to lead our people effectively, so I didn't mind 
when you wanted to be a shaman healer.  But now you heal the body while 
corrupting the spirit.  Who says that Pishtim--may he increase--lies or 
steals??  Since he is the source of all things and all truth, he can 
change the truth as he sees fit, and he can take back what he has given!  
See that you don't offend him with your impious ranting!
	"Me impious?  Father, don't you know your own son better than 
that?  Hasn't love given you eyes to see or ears to listen?"
	"Don't think I don't still love you, for I have worked to keep 
your secret from the council.  I've stuck my neck out for you, and I'll 
continue to do so, but I will NOT have you taking Metutu from the true 
path!  I'm sorry, Makedde, but you are no longer his teacher.  I'm 
sending him to live with Busara.  He will teach my son the old ways that 
have sustained us for generations.  He will be made worthy to take my 
place when I die.  Gods, how I wish I'd done better with you!  I wonder 
if I could have done or said anything different.  You send me to my 
grave with many regrets and a broken heart!"
	"Father!"
	"I warn you not to try and interfere.  Don't presume too much on 
our ties of blood, for I am still your leader and you are still my 
subject, understand?"
	"Completely, SIR."
	"Don't sass me boy!  You're not too old to get a few licks from 
your old dad, and I'm  not so sure they wouldn't do you some good!"
	He whirled and left, descending the tree so abruptly that he 
almost fell to the ground.
	The shaman sat on his haunches and sighed.  He gazed at the 
painted drawings on the side of the tree's bole, where a stylistic 
portrait of Metutu was emblazoned on the bark.  "The gods will have 
their way.  Father, you have pulled him from the creek only to plunge 
him in the river."  He looked through the swaying branches of his home 
to the bright azure sky above.  It was a bittersweet victory, just 
another thorn between himself and his father when once they had been so 
close.  "Touch his spirit, Aiheu.  Bless my father in his darkness, and 
shine the light of wisdom into his heart."



CHAPTER 11:  HOMEWORK

	Metutu eyed the cliff wall warily.  The caves were only a few 
minutes walk from the lush aerial homes of the rest of the troop, but to 
the superstitious mandrills, they were a completely separate world.  Few 
dared to venture there.  Busara's wisdom was legendary, but so were his 
eccentricities.  Metutu remembered hearing stories that he sacrificed 
goats on nights of the full moon in exchange for powers from the evil 
Makei.  But Kinara had always insisted that his Chief Scribe was kind 
and patient.  "You would love him.  I could kick myself for not 
introducing you long ago."
	Metutu had seen Busara from a distance once or twice, but had 
never been introduced.  That was a real shame, for he was rather fond of 
Asumini, and he was curious about her parents.  He was about to explore 
the great mystery, and he was more than a little nervous.
	Metutu mused over this as he observed the coming and going of the 
birds high overhead.  They wheeled and chirped, their colorful plumage 
flashing in the sun as they went about the daily business of gathering 
food and hauling it to their nests at the top of the cliffs.  Some of 
them were weaver birds, constructing elaborate nests that hung like 
baskets made out of carefully woven grass.
	"Enjoying the view?"
	He gasped and spun, whirling to see Asumini standing behind him, a 
look of amusement on her face.  "What do you want, Metutu?  I can't talk 
long; father is expecting a new student soon, and I have to go meet 
him."
	Metutu grinned.  "You just did.  I'm going to be a scribe!"
	Her eyes widened disbelievingly.  "You?"  She laughed.  "Oh, 
that's good, Metutu!  You can tell them how to escape leopards.  I'm 
sure you'll have the situation under control!"  She added, "I was being 
perfectly serious.  He should be here any moment."
	"Asumini, that is no way to treat a guest, is it?"  The old voice 
was gentle, with only a hint of reproof.  They both turned to see Busara 
leaning heavily on his staff.  His wizened features bore the scars and 
furrows of age, but his eyes were bright with intelligence, crowned with 
wonderfully expressive eyebrows.  His kindly smile was as warm as a good 
hug.  "Please show Metutu inside, and get him settled in.  We have much 
to discuss, and it is already high sun."
	Asumini looked at Metutu, unable to hide her surprise.
	It was the first time that Metutu had been in a cave.  He stepped 
back into the refreshingly cool recess.  Expecting things to be pitch 
black, he found to his delight an invention lit the passageway.  "You 
like the lamps?  They burn rendered fat.  My Asumini scavenges carcasses 
to make sure I never run low.  You have to get there quickly you know, 
before the hyenas snatch up everything."
	Now it was Metutu's turn to be surprised.  He looked at Asumini 
with new respect.
	The twinkling lights were like stars in the night, but much 
brighter.  As they got further into the cave, there was what Busara 
called his "tree trunk."  It was a shaft of stone that reached from the 
floor to the ceiling, and Metutu fingered it with wonder, for it had not 
been carved but formed of its own accord.  There Busara stopped him.  
"Tell me, young buck, do you know where Mano is?"
	He says quietly, "I have no idea.  You'll have to ask Minshasa."  
That was the pass phrase by which Aiheusists in hiding recognize each 
other.
	Busara took the boy by the arm.  With almost pleading in his 
voice, he said, "I know you are the son of the chief, but I also know 
why he sent you here.  Now I ask you in all sincerity to tell me you are 
not here to spy on me.  That before the gods all you seek is the truth 
for your soul's sake."
	"That is all I seek," Metutu said.  "My father teaches me that the 
gods argue among themselves, that they have been known to cheat and even 
steal.  My brother tells me that the creator is perfect and holy, and 
that he loves us all.  I want so bad to believe he is right.  I watched 
the birds just now.  I cannot believe that the beauty I see, and the 
good things I feel when I see it came from petty, thieving, lazy gods 
that must be bribed to bring the rain and heal the sick.  If I were God, 
I'd do those things to make people happy."
	"Let me tell you why I believe.  Son, you are much closer than you 
think to the source of faith.  Aiheu is not a secret hidden under a 
rock.  The work of his hand is everywhere, filling the world with beauty 
and wonder.  Open your heart and take it in.  The hardest task would be 
NOT to believe."
	In the golden flickering light of the lamps, Busara's kindly face 
looked almost godlike.  "Look, son.  See the paintings?"
	Metutu looked at the walls.  They were covered by paintings much 
like the ones on Makedde's baobab, but done with such skill and artistry 
that it took Metutu's breath away.
	"I have to keep the lights out in this place when Kinara comes 
calling.  I wish they could be visible to the public, where the words of 
comfort they represent could become bind to their hearts and settle in 
their minds."
	Metutu was humbled.  "I'm sorry I called you an evil sorcerer.  
You know, we kids grew up telling stories about sacrifices of goats by 
the light of the full moon."
	"Once I was brought a goat carcass.  I had to cut it up for some 
sick lion cubs.  It might have been a night of the full moon--I don't 
know.  All I know is that I couldn't let them starve to death."  Busara 
shook his head.  "And to think that I love children so much.  Perhaps 
you will put in a good word when gossips tell their tales?"
	"I'll try."
	Metutu looked up and down the wall.  He recognized many of the 
paintings from his brother's work, but one thing was missing.  "Where is 
your story?  I bet it's interesting."
	Busara smiled.  "I like to think so.  Let me see your hands."  He 
took a look at Metutu's palms by the lantern light.  "They are young and 
fresh, not used to hard work."  His own were callused.  "Hard work is 
part of my story."  He tugged at his gray beard.  "Worry about my 
daughter's future.  Her first case of Dol Sani and her near death from 
pneumonia."  He drew his finger down the deep lines etched in his 
cheeks.  "Long hours of study, tending the sick, teaching lore, crying 
tears and smiling smiles."  He drew his finger across the deep wrinkles 
on his forehead.  "Late nights with sick lion cubs and a couple of 
leopards.  Oh yes, my story is plainly written.  The youth has been 
pulled from my outside, but inside I still feel like the young buck that 
earned these."
	He showed Metutu the back of his hand with five parallel scars.  
"To you they are ugly scars.  To me they are beautiful.  You see, my 
lioness sister Asumini was once warm and strong like you and I."  He 
took from around his neck a grass cord from which hung an ivory fang.  
"Once she could bear me on her back without thinking about it.  Now I 
wear what's left of her next to my heart."  His eyes began to grow 
misty.  "If you learn anything from me, learn this.  Love well and for 
always.  For everything else a shaman does is but leaves and branches."  
He patted the column of stone.  "Love is the trunk and the root of all 
good things."
	Busara sat on a prepared cushion of leaves.  He motioned for 
Metutu to do likewise.  "I'm going to tell you a love story.  One that 
is strange, for it is about a young mandrill shaman and a lioness.  
Listen well to my words, for I can make you look, but I can't make you 
see."
	"Is she the one I heard rumors about?"
	"The rumors pale next to the truth."  He fondled the relic and 
kissed it.  "Once I was in search of worldly treasures.  And instead I 
discovered God.  Only I did not recognize the significance of the 
moment, for the truth came in the form of a wounded lioness.
	"At great risk I tended her wound and saved her life.  Her name 
was Asumini.  It means `jasmine,' and may I say that the flower is more 
beautiful because it bears her name?"  He put the tooth back around his 
neck.  "She received comfort to the body, but returned to give me 
comfort to the spirit.  Everything that came before I count as loss.  
Everything that has happened since I treasure.  Through her eyes, I have 
seen face to face what others only saw dimly reflected.  Because of her, 
I have seen the face of Aiheu and slept at the feet of Minshasa and 
Mano.  And I will sit with them when I die, among the great kings of the 
past."
	"Who are the great kings?"
	"Those whose hearts are warm with the joy of service.  It is good 
to receive eternal life.  It is far greater to give eternal love.  In 
the beginning all animals were brother spirits.  In the end they will 
all be brothers once more.  Some of those spirits will be weak cubs 
crying out for milk.  Others will answer their cry and say, `Come you 
who hunger for my milk.  No one shall I turn away.'"  He drew close to 
Metutu and took his hand.  "Aiheu calls to you.  He says, `Metutu, feed 
my cubs.  Feed my cubs.'"
	Metutu slowly knelt and bowed his head.  Busara rested his hand on 
his head and blessed him.
	"Aiheu, come into my heart!  I will feed your cubs!  I swear!"
	Busara knelt beside him and put his arms around Metutu.  "Bless 
you, son!  I have lived to see the promise fulfilled in you.  The light 
will not go out!"
	Kinara loved his son, but there was a depth and genuine warmth to 
Busara that endeared him to Metutu at once.  "When I am Chief, everyone 
will see your paintings, and there will be no punishment for worshipping 
as your heart dictates."
	Tears came to Busara's eyes.  "I have lived to see this moment!  
Now I can die happy!"  


CHAPTER 12:  BREAKING BREAD

	Busara told him, "Let's celebrate.  How about something to eat?"
	"Fine!"
	"Then come on.  We'll prepare it together."  A second later Busara 
added, "I forget you have servants.  Do you know how to prepare a meal?"
	"What I don't know, you can show me."
	"That attitude will take you places, my son!"  Busara put his arm 
around the smiling Metutu and led him into the pantry.
	The year-round cool of the deeper cave passages made it possible 
to store greens in fresh-picked condition for quite a while.  Busara 
found all the fruit and vegetables he needed in the flickering light of 
his lamp.
	"I can't believe this!"  Metutu saw herbs and fruits that he knew 
were out of season.  "This is incredible!  You're a genius!"
	Busara laughed.  "I make a mean fruit salad too."  He took a mango 
and took a sharp dagger from the wall that he used to slice it into this 
sections, then dice them.
	"What is that??"
	"It's a man thing.  There was a big male that drowned in the river 
a few years back.  Very sad, but he was wearing this.  I figured he 
didn't need it anymore."
	"A man thing?  But those are cursed!"
	"No.  The only time it's cursed is when it rests in an evil hand.  
Funny thing about those big hairless creatures: for all their 
collections of things, they are mortal and full of fears just like us.  
Aiheu made us all for one reason or another.  I haven't figured out why 
he made their kind yet, but it's enough just knowing he had a reason to 
show a little tolerance and understanding."  He smiled.  "They do make 
some great stuff, though."
	"If you say so," Metutu murmured, looking closely at the dagger 
but not touching it.
	Later as they ate, Metutu glanced at the tooth of Asumini around 
Busara's neck.
	"Tell me more about the lioness."
	"She is probably listening right now," Busara said.  "She reveals 
herself to whom she will as the spirit moves her."
	"No, I mean as a person."
	Busara smiled.  "She is full of love.  Love that echoed through 
her cubs and now her grandson Ahadi who rules at Pride Rock.  Our 
spirits are one, bound together eternally with cords that cannot be 
broken.  She brought my family and I into the light.  My debt to her 
could never be repaid."  He leaned over and kissed Kima.  "My wife is 
very understanding about this--she shares me with Asumini.  I think that 
if I'd spent that much time and affection on another mandrill...."
	"I would have killed you," Kima said, kissing his cheek.  She 
turned to address Metutu directly.  "Sometimes he sleeps next to her.  
At least she waits for him to fall asleep before she sneaks away.  But 
when she was alive, that was even worse.  She would sprawl out in the 
floor with Busara snuggled up against her.  The two of them would snore 
like a thunderstorm.  Sometimes he'd rub her stomach and her leg would 
kick."
	"You talk about her like a nuisance," Busara said with a slight 
scowl.  "I know you used to spend hours grooming her, picking ticks, and 
calling her `Fuzzy love.'  And those cubs: I thought you were going to 
fight her for custody!"
	"Well sometimes she was a nuisance.  But only sometimes."  Kima 
smiled reflectively.  "She was always very sweet.  Sometimes out of the 
blue she would say something absolutely wonderful that would take your 
breath away.  Then you wanted to hug her and never let go.  She was so 
wise about so many things."
	"They must be great philosophers.  And I thought all they did was 
hunt."
	Busara laughed.  "Oh my boy, what constitutes great philosophy?  I 
remember the way she used to say it:

	"You have lots of time to sit about in that odd crossed-legged 
stance to do thinking.  That kind of time must be wonderful--I spend 
much time hunting and tending to my family.  But even in my busy life, I 
have moments when I feel that small voice inside me speaking truths.  I 
know what works for me.  
	"In one way, there are no mothers who aren't philosophers.  We use 
what works for us, and if you are interested, I would tell you some 
truths.  For one thing, we see the beauty that surrounds us.  The father 
sky, the mother earth, the dew on the grass.  We know that God is 
beautiful, though we have not seen him.  You can tell a mother's looks 
by her cubs.  Even so, we see the beauty of God in everything he made.'"

	"My gods!" Metutu gasped.
	Busara sighed.  "Such pure, beautiful and childlike faith!  Rather 
than dealing in vague concepts, she brought comfort for the 
spirit...words that help us face the pleasures and pains of life.  Well 
my son, she helped me face them.  She lived to be quite old for her 
kind, then she came here to die, and she has never left.  Sometimes in 
the night you can see her keeping watch over me, my blessed Nisei whose 
prayers are always before the feet of Aiheu."  His eyes grew misty 
again.  "To think she leaves the blessed presence of Aiheu to tarry in 
the shadows with me.  She healed my spirit, and all I did was heal her 
body!"
	Suddenly Busara looked around.  "No, I didn't exaggerate!"  He 
listened for a moment, but all Metutu could hear was silence.  "It's 
true!"
	"Was that her?"
	"Yes.  She's among us.  Apparently she has not revealed herself to 
you yet."
	"Well ask her to.  If you ask her to, she will."
	"I believe it.  But I will not ask her to.  When she is ready, she 
will show herself."
	Busara's daughter got up and reached down to touch something, 
though Metutu could not see a thing.  "Is that her?" Metutu asked.
	"Yes."
	Metutu reached out in that direction.  Asumini scowled.  "You 
drove her off!  Give her time--she'll come to you when she's ready."
	"Will I know it?"
	"She could chew you up and spit you out.  I dare say you'll know 
it."
	"Is she temperamental?  I mean, is she good to you?"
	Asumini said, "She was a second mother to me.  She was very strict 
but very kind, like most lioness mothers.  I could never get away with 
anything because she would tattle on me to Dad."
	"I bet you hated that."
	"No.  She always took good care of me.  I only wish I could have 
known her well before she died.  When I was very young, I remember her 
grooming me.  That seems so long ago.  At least I could hide from her 
then."  She looks to one side.  "Cut it out, Auntie!  You know I'm only 
teasing."  Suddenly Asumini laughs.  "In your dreams!"
        Hearing only one side of this, Metutu felt odd.  Still when 
Metutu sat his stick down for a while, it ended up moving mysteriously.  
"She is shy with newcomers, but she wants you to respect her existence.  
That's her subtle way of saying `hello.'"
	"Oh."  He looked around uncertainly.  "Hello to you too."  
Something dawned on him at last, and he burst out laughing.
	Asumini looks at him strangely.  "You think this is funny?"
	"No, I think you are!  Your father said Asumini scavenged 
carcasses for fat before the hyenas stripped them clean!  I thought he 
meant you!"
	"Are you so sure he didn't?"
	Metutu stared at her.  "You are kidding--aren't you?"
	She grinned.  "Well, I might be."

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