Duiwelsberg to Tierkop

I am not sure what came over me but I decided to show myself to the boy -- just to let him know that he was not alone.

I approached along the game path from the other side of the pool. The creature, that I changed into, was immense --- bluish in tone, with a thick, muscular neck and spiralled horns that rose like ancient cedar trunks out of his massive skull.

Sprinkaan watched me intensely and noticed how everything around us was so much brighter and the colours vividly intense. He could see every detail on me as bright as daylight even though it was early and the morning was cloudy.

He watched me for a long time, not daring to move. He watched me drink and saw the shiny water drops fall back into the pool when I lifted my head after drinking.

The magnificent eland bull lingered for a while, then flicked his ear, turned, and with slow, deliberate grace walked into the waboom scrub on the other side of the stream. As it moved, Sprinkaan noticed a soft, rhythmic clicking --- faint, almost like the ticking of two small stones knocking together. He sat still, listening.

He smiled with quiet wonder. His father had told him about that sound once, sitting beside a campfire on a dry night in the Karoo --- how the big eland bulls could be recognised even in darkness by the clicking of their joints as they walked.

For him hearing it now, so clearly, was like hearing an echo across time.

He could almost feel his father's hand pointing out a similar eland bull many years ago. That sound, that stillness — it was a memory made real again, and for a moment, it settled on his shoulders like a warm blanket of forgotten belonging.

Sprinkaan began to breathe again.

He stepped forward, filled his water bottle from the pool -- then noticed something weird:

There were no tracks where the bull stood just a few minutes ago. He got up from his haunches and walked through the water to the other side, expecting to see the tracks. The sand was soft enough, the tracks of smaller game left clear prints, even the francolin's left their tracks when they drank there last night!

Sprinkaan scratched his head, looked around and wondered if it was just a daydream -- but it was so vivid, so clear! The feeling and the beauty of the eland, took him back to the farm.

It was on a cool night under a bright Milky Way, beside a fire that smelt of vine roots and waboom branches, that Jakob leaned closer to the fire and told him about the first eland:

"You see, Sprinkaan," he said, "the eland was not always one of many. Once, there was only one. And it belonged to !Kaggen, the Mantis. He kept it for himself --- he raised it like a child. In a secret kloof, far beyond the sun's reach, he fed it with honey and mountain figs. Its hide grew glossy, and its horns sharp as the tip of the new moon."

Sprinkaan also shifted closer to the fire, silent, listening.

"But Kaggen had a son — a rash young boy — who saw the eland grazing, big and powerful. He thought it wild and didn't know it belonged to his father, !Kaggen. He threw a stone at it. Bang! The eland ran, into the kloof, bleeding. When !Kaggen came home and saw what had happened, he wept so hard that the river beds filled and overflowed. (A bit of an exaggeration but never mind.) But he did not curse the boy. No. Instead, he tracked the wounded eland until it died under a lone camelthorn tree on the edge of the desert."

Jakob looked into the flames. "That's the place where the spirit crosses," he said. "Right where the big bulls die. Because !Kaggen knelt there and cut out the heart. He placed the heart in a clay pot, poured the eland's blood and melted fat on it and began to chant. His words became the wind. And from the pot came not one --- but many eland. A whole herd. They scattered across the land like mist, vanishing into valleys and beyond."

"But," Jakob warned, "!Kaggen never gave the same power to the boy again. That's why no hunter may ever take an eland lightly. The first one died for all the rest. So before you raise your bow, you speak to it. You explain your hunger. You thank it."

He paused, then added: "They say that if you treat the eland with respect, its spirit might guide you after death --- just as !Kaggen sent his eland into the other world to make a path for us."

Back by the water, Sprinkaan remembered dreaming about a great eland bull like this—its eyes the colour of polished cedar, and its horns stretching up into the stars like the branches of a celestial cedar tree...

Walking back through the water, he looked left, then right and spoke to himself:

"With the flow or against it?"

There at the foot of Duiwelsberg, he decided to go against the flow. He thought about the piece from the Bible that said follow the narrow road, don't join the majority on the big wide easy road. He could not help wondering what path the eland would have taken.

During the morning the wind died down and the clouds slowly started clearing. There was not going to be any rain today.

Against the flow, the valley narrowed in front of him. He disregarded Jakob's warning, and followed the pinky, not the thumb. Still in the shadows, the stream almost disappeared into a branching ravine. He wanted to follow the path to Jakob's hunting grounds. The one that defied instinct --- straight into the narrowing valley, upstream, against the flow.

Sprinkaan hesitated just briefly before continuing into the tighter fold of the land. The ground underfoot became sandy again, the trees sparser and a lot more of those blueish shrubs.. He found a game trail leading into the dim sunlight. The wind had died down a lot but there were still a few fluffy clouds, hanging just below the peaks on the left hand side.

The bottom of the valley lied flat in front of him and walking the game trail made it easy. He was walking up-wind, and because of the soft sand he startled quite a few animals. They were trying to warm up in the little bit of sun that managed through the clouds. A duiker nearly ran into him when he came around a bush and a while later the cute steenbok run away some distance and stopped to turn around and look at this weird creature entering their domain.

He saw some hills in the distance, that looked like they were blocking his exit from the narrowing valley. He can remember Jakob saying something about the head of a leopard that stands in your way.

The mountains on his right dropped lower and out of an opening on his right he saw a handful of hartebeest galloping along. He remembered Jakob saying that hartebeests loved to run and were among the fastest antelopes around.

Sprinkaan can't help wondering about the shape of the hartebeest, almost like it was not very well put together, after it was cut into pieces by the children of old. It was a weird story that Jakob told him. How I (!Kaggen) made fun out of the children by lying down and pretending to be a dead hartebeest. The children then cut me into pieces to take home and show their parents. On the way the hartebeest head started talking to them and they got a big fright. They threw down the different pieces that proceeded to re-assemble itself. The most amazing part was the way Jakob showed how the intestines slithered back into its stomach, the heart started beating again and the animal ran away.

The way its body slopes down towards the rear and the unusual way the horns are attached at the top of the head, all looks like it was done in a hurry. Yet it can run, faster than any Bushman.

Sprinkaan pressed on -- higher up the valley. The shape of the mountain in front of him slowly changed and when the clouds lifted off the top, he could clearly see the big head of a mighty leopard. Back then the Dutch hunters called it Tierkop. Tiger was the name that they used for a leopard.

Now the valley really tightens up on you, almost like a funnel, leading you straight to Tierkop. The mountains were rising on both sides and in a way it felt like there was no turning back.

Swirrrrrr! An explosion of sound and sharp black and white quills happened to his right and turned the sharp end towards him. I could see the boy's heart beating in his throat from this unexpected encounter with !Xo. I never get a fright but this was ... a bit of a surprise.

This event took Sprinkaan straight back to the farm, remembering the time !Xo gave him the fright of his life! He went to the tool-room at the back of the shed, to hang up the bridle and stow his saddle. All sorts of stuff was kept there besides tools, including seeds and chicken feed. Approaching the toolroom he saw that the door was half open, expecting that Jakob might be busy inside. They never left the door open because all sorts of animals are always trying to get in there and can do a lot of damage to the bags of seed.

Stepping over the threshold into the dark toolroom he called out:"Jakob ..." but instead of getting a response, he was met by exactly what just happened to him now.

The same explosion of rattling quills and a spiky white ball attacking him before his eyes could adjust to the dim light.

He just threw the saddle onto it and backed out the door shutting it as quickly as possible. His heart was pounding and he couldn't help running around, looking for Jakob to tell him about this thing in the tool-room. As he explained to Jakob and urging him on to walk faster, the smile just grew bigger on the old Bushman’s wrinkly face.

"You gave !Xo a fright and he was just trying to defend himself."

"What does he want in the tool-room?" The boy asked, trying to get Jakob there as quickly as possible.

"He can't resist the maize kernels that is in the chicken feed. !Xo prefers to walk at night because it is much safer for him, but for those maize kernels he was prepared to risk his life."

They listened for a moment outside the door, then Jakob said:

"Let's have a look at how much damage the scoundrel did to our seed and chicken feed."

The boy stepped back to allow Jakob to open the door. As their eyes adjusted to the dim light, they could see a saddle shifting around on the floor. The porcupine was trapped under the saddle with many of its quills stuck in the felt that lined the bottom of the saddle.

"I think you hurt him badly, because he is having difficulty breathing."

Jakob took a pick-handle and resting on it bent down to speak to !Xo:

"!Xo, we are sorry that you got hurt but you should not be here anyway. We will make good use of your body to feed ourselves. We honour you for your bravery and the good life that you had. May you find a new place with lots of water and many maize plants to feed you."

The tenderness and respect in Jakob’s voice again surprised the boy and he was even more surprised when Jakob just got up and proceeded to beat the porcupine's head to a pulp with the pick-handle.

That evening they were sitting around the fire with some porcupine cooking in a pot on the other side. There was something about sitting around the fire that got old Jakob into a story-telling mood. With his eyes staring into the flickering flames, a smile would start in the corners of his mouth, pushing the wrinkles tighter on his weathered face. He liked to start slow and grab the full attention of everyone, including the flames dancing on top of the logs.

"Long ago, when the sky hung lower and the rocks still remembered the footsteps of the giants, the animals were called to a gathering. The leopard was proud in those days. His coat shimmered like gold dust, spotted with shadows, and his hunger was great, but he wasn’t happy."

"Why does !Xo, the slow one, walk so boldly through my lands?" snarled the leopard. "He must fear me---or he must fall."

The porcupine, that stayed in his burrow, heard of this, but he did not fear. He only said, "Let the leopard come."

And so, one quiet night, the leopard followed the winding paths between stone and bush until he found !Xo, slow and round, sitting by the mouth of his burrow.

"You are small," said the leopard. "But I am quick. I am strong."

"Yes," said !Xo, "but you are always in a hurry."

The leopard blinked. "What do you mean?"

!Xo turned slowly in the moonlight, and his quills caught the silver glow, like spears stacked in silence. "You chase what runs. But what if something waits?"

The leopard laughed. "Then I strike!"And with that, he leapt.

!Xo simply turned his tail toward the great cat, and his quills made that fearsome rattling sound. The leopard's face and paw met a forest of needles. With a yelp, he rolled away and tumbled into a thornbush. His pride bled with his paws.

"You see," said !Xo from the shadow of his burrow, "we who carry our spears on our backs do not need to run."

The leopard limped away, licking his wounds and his pride. But this leopard---this proud hunter who stalked the lands near Tierkop---he paid a price higher than most. For one of !Xo's quills had struck true and deep, piercing the leopard's eye.

From that night on, he hunted with only one eye, seeing the world half as it was, the shadow of !Xo following him, always on his blind side.

And so, all leopards must learn this lesson, each in their own time. Some learn with a pricked paw and a bruised pride."

Jakob leaned closer to the boy and with big round eyes and a lower voice he said:

"But the one-eyed leopard of Tierkop? He carries his lesson in every hunt, in every glance, in the darkness that lives where his eye once shone. And !Xo? He still walks slowly through those same lands---but he is never afraid."

The memory faded. Sprinkaan blinked, finding himself back in the shadow of Tierkop. The sun had broken through the clouds and in the valley, the shadows were getting longer and longer.

That is when he saw the porcupine quill lying in the sand in front of him. Was that a gift from !Xo, or is it a warning to anybody that might want to harm him?

As he approached Tierkop he saw big patches of green along the front of the mountain, a clear indication of water seeping out of the side of the koppie. The small stream that he was following, gently curved off to the right and looks like it might join up with the kloof and the green patches flowing off the mountain. He headed for the bottom of the kloof to get some fresh mountain water.

High above the Kloof was a dark ledge with a small cave leading onto it. Sprinkaan didn't noticed it but someone else noticed him!

The big male had been sleeping on his favourite ledge, high above a natural pool fed by seepage from the rocks. The leopard stretched luxuriously, working the drowsiness from his powerful limbs. His muscles were relaxed, but his remaining eye—the good one—never stopped watching. Years ago, as a young leopard full of bravado, he'd learned painful respect for !Xo, the porcupine. The quills had cost him his left eye but taught him patience.

His right eye compensated in a way and could see much better than any other leopard's eye. He'd spotted movement on the distant plain much earlier already, a small figure crossing into his territory. His keen eye assessed this strange creature walking directly toward him. He watched him from high up on a ridge. His eyes gleaming and just the tip of his beautiful tail, twitching a flash of white, now and then. Sprinkaan had no chance of spotting that leopard with its unbelievable camouflage.

Most of the clouds were gone but with the high mountains all around them, the sun bled quickly behind the ridges, coolness descending on the valley. By the time Sprinkaan noticed his shadow had vanished, the leopard's ears were already twitching as he studied this human intruder. He knew exactly where Sprinkaan was heading.

From his rocky vantage point, the beautiful cat watched with predatory patience. Then the leopard rose graciously, stepped down from his ledge and descended like a shadow against the mountain.

This was his mountain. His water.

The boy walked beneath like a moving shadow, heading straight for the small pool. The leopard was waiting. I watched. The mountain held its breath.

The boy reached the small pool of clean mountain water. He knelt, cupped his hands, and drank deeply. Then he filled his bottle, having no idea he was sharing space with dangerous royalty.

Looking at the boy squatting by the water with his back towards me, his neck looked so thin and fragile.

The leopard's muscles coiled like loaded springs. This wasn't his first human---he'd developed a taste for the easy meat. Runaway slaves and reckless hunters have fallen prey to him before.

Just as the great cat gathered himself to spring, a sharp warning cry split the air---the bird-like screech of a dassie sounding alarm.

Sprinkaan's head snapped up. Something in that cry made his blood run cold, triggering a memory of Jakob's stories about the eternal feud between leopard and dassie.

"The leopard wanted to catch the dassie, but the dassie always escaped into rocks. So one day the leopard crept very quietly, moving without sound. But the dassie saw his tail twitch in sunlight and warned the others. The leopard was so angry he bit his own tail! That's why their tails curl up now---to remind him not to be careless."

The dassie's warning cry came again, more urgent this time.

Sprinkaan slowly turned his head, scanning the rocks above the pool. His hand instinctively moved to his father's knife.

He was not going to go down without a fight.

And that's when I intervened.

I materialized on a protea branch between predator and prey—just high enough for the leopard to see me, just still enough to be undeniable. The leopard's good eye found me immediately, yellow fire meeting ancient wisdom.

I didn't raise my voice. Didn't hiss or show teeth. I simply held his gaze and spoke with quiet authority:

"Walk away. This one is not for you."

The great cat's tail lashed once---a flash of frustrated hunger. He held my stare for a long moment, weighing his chances against a trickster god. Finally, wisdom overcame hunger. He melted back into the rocks, becoming just another shadow on the mountain.

The boy sat by the pool a while longer, never knowing how close the leopard had come to ending his story before it truly began. But I knew I was there.

He lay back, below a slight overhang and watched the last streaks of cloud go soft with colour, and thought — not urgently, not anxiously, but with the curiosity of a boy who had grown up wild — about what lay ahead. There was something beautiful about not knowing.

And that night, under the gentle shelter of stone, with the hazy moon strewing silver dust over the valley and the stars descending below the ghostly cliffs, Sprinkaan slept deeply.

A quiet, dreamless sleep.

While the boy slept, unaware how close death had stalked him, I kept vigil. The leopard's scent still lingered on the rocks above, a reminder of what might have been. I settled nearby, watching over this fragile human who walked so boldly into territories he did not understand. After the day's excitement, it didn't take long for me to drift toward the dreamworld myself.

But the next morning --- ah, the next morning starts much earlier for me. While Sprinkaan still snores away, oblivious, I am already returning to wakefulness. The three simple eyes on top of my head stir first, sensing the slightest change in the shade of light. Humans would miss such a small change, but I cannot. It is a gift, this sensitivity, and a burden. You humans wake all at once. Open your eyes, rub the sleep away, and there it is: the world, neatly in place. Not me. As a mantis, I come back to the world in small fractured pieces. This is the beauty of being !Kaggen --- I experience everything exactly the way each creature experiences it. Then my great eyes --- those that people always stare at, big and bulging --- they are thousands of tiny windows, each opening to let in its own sliver of the world. Not a single picture, no. A thousand little fragments. One facet catches the last fading star. Another sees the edge of a cloud. Another, the twitch of a blade of grass.

They come alive one after the other, until the world stitches itself together like a mat woven from a thousand reeds.

Overhead, the last stars do not simply fade. They wink out like sparks from a dying fire, each one gone in its own time.

The clouds do not turn colour all at once. They flicker: here pink, there gold, there a streak of amber. To you it is a painting; to me it is a mosaic, dancing and alive.

The mountains --- Tierkop itself, the leopard's head --- do not just glow. I see the ridges catch light one by one, as if the stone itself were waking slowly, each rock fragment taking its turn. A slow ripple of fire until the whole crown shines like a living beast.

My eyes catch movement — the boy’s eyelids are fluttering. He is waking now, returning to his human way of seeing. If he looked overhead, the last few stars would be fading into a softening horizon, while the east burned slowly into crimson. Yes, there he is, starting to see the thin streaks of cloud stretched out across the sky like brushstrokes, catching fire with the first hints of morning: pink, then amber, then gold. The tips of the mountains caught the first splashes of sun, glowing with a light so pure and untouched it seemed otherworldly. The air was cool and friendly.

He sees it as a painting. I see it as ten thousand pieces of light, each one singing its own note in the symphony of dawn.

Both are true.