ChiTonga Proverb 2. Malweza atungana mulongo

Two interesting proverbs of the Tonga people are: Mulonga uzula bunkumunkumu and Malweza atungana mulongo. Let us look at the second of the two. The full proverb goes like this: Malweza atungana mulongo kumulonga.

The literal translation is: bad news (many very bad pieces of news) make a line as they match towards the river. A Tonga should be able to quickly discern that there are at least two parts to this proverb. The first part is about bad news. The second part is about matching in a line, and the third is about a river. I will now take the parts and explain the connection.

The proverb is about bad news, and the nature or character of the bad news. This is not just about news that is 'not good' but news that is ugly. We are not talking about a child failing a class test or a thief breaking in to steal some money.

Think of a man who returns from the fields to find his wife killed by a snake, then, before that same day ends, learns that his brother in another village has drowned in a river. This is the kind of news the proverb is referring to.

Let us talk about the characterization of such news as matching in a line. This is to indicate that when bad news begins to come in, you can expect not one, not two, but more of the same kind within a short space of time. Think of an expecting mother who miscarries, then a daughter is divorced, followed by a son who loses his job in the city, and a husband that falls in love with another woman in his workplace; everything happening within a space of a week or even a month.

The association of bad news in this way is what makes this proverb particularly striking. The last part of it is as interesting as the whole proverb. What does the river have to do with this? Well, proverbs were not always meant for children to grasp. One can only imagine that a man could speak this proverb to another in front of children; children would laugh because the proverb reminded them of women walking in a straight line as they went to the stream to draw water, missing the main point of the proverb.

This was a familiar village sight: a line of women carrying clay pots on their heads, or in more recent times buckets of tin or other plastic containers. As they went they would talk about different subjects, joking, laughing along. Once they got to the stream they put down their containers and filled them up with water before starting back to the village.

Proverbs were meant to be a means of delivering complicated, if not sophisticated and delicate or heavy news. Instead of saying, Oh my God, very very bad news coming out of the village, distressing, depressing news, how shall we call this; the day of darkness, wish we were never a people! The bearer of the news would simply say, Taata, aaya malweza atungana mulongo kumulonga: "Very heavy news is coming to us in a  never ceasing stream."

Note the river at the end of the proverb. This could signify the fact that there is always bad news out there. The bad news affecting us now is on its way the same way that water that falls to the ground is on its way, going back to join streams and rivers out there in a never ending cycle of life.

The next time a Tonga says, Malweza, he or she is probably shooting a warning to say, get ready, bad news attracts other bad news. It may be an indication to brace yourself for other bad news coming your way. This, the Tonga people learned, was one way of nature. When you see bad news it is not time to throw the towel in, it is time to pray for better times to return. These are some of the ideas coming out of this proverb. Some people that I have come across use this expression to simply state a fact that they are not surprised by a series of unfortunate events happening around them.

Finally, let me return to the word malweza. This is a specific reference to something that should not happen. This word is used in reference to something that is more of an omen. Malweza is a very serious word in ChiTonga; to say aaya malweza (This is malweza) signifies something horrible, sinister, and often spiritually motivated. Imagine a woman who marries her own son, or an Uncle who impregnates a sister's daughter. Such things were taboo among the Tonga. Akali malweza. When things like this happened they were often accompanied or preceded by some strange happenings in the village. Those are very rough times for families.

A black cat arrives in the village and suddenly without warning dies in the courtyard, or a big snake makes its way through the village in the sight of young and old, doing absolutely no harm to chicken or cow or person, or an owl appearing in the middle of the village, making its nightly sounds by day. Such strange things were easily associated with malweza.

Wedding woes!!

Things can go wrong, really wrong on wedding day!

I went into town center on Saturday morning, three hours before my wedding ceremony was scheduled to start. I parked my Datsun sports car in an illegal spot because I could not find a parking and I was in a hurry. I came out of the shop ten minutes later and found a Police Officer waiting for me. I had no time to think; I went and started explaining that I was the Bridegroom looking for a bow-tie and I was getting desperate because I did not find what I was looking for.

Ignoring my pleas he motioned for me to follow him to the Police station nearly 1 kilometer down town. I continued to plead with him that I was running out of time and must go to the wedding. A senior police officer – not in uniform - appeared 'out of nowhere'. He came over to where the younger officer was trying to take my car key out of my hands, asked the younger man what was going on.

The older officer pulled the younger to the side; the younger man came back and let me go. I was so shaken by the incident; but, as I learnt later things can go wrong on wedding day.

A few years later, I was the Best-man at a big brother’s wedding. On wedding day, WE, the men, were ready, as customary in Zambia those days, the men proceeded to the church to wait for the bride. The time was 11 a.m.

A small crowd was already there at the church to witness the occasion. Four of us, including the Bridegroom took our position on the front pew of the church. Excitement was all over our faces: big smiles, confident walk, proud glares, and polished suits. We looked handsome, all of us, especially the groom in his Irish navy blue tinged suit.

We stood up, sat down, listened, stood up again, listened some more and the Bride was not arriving; neither was there any sign of the bridal party. The time was coming closer to 2:30 pm (14h00). At 3:30 (15h00) the Bridal party was nowhere to be seen.

The number of people waiting since 10 a.m. was dwindling. First, those who came with children left, then the students from colleges, then remained the elderly and relatives who traveled many miles to be at the wedding. The fun was quickly disappearing, sucked out of the occasion by the long wait and lack of information as what was actually going on behind-the-scenes.

The strange thing about weddings is that outsiders can only speculate. The real battles are fought, won, and lost behind the closed bedroom doors.

It was my duty as the closest to the Bridegroom to keep my team’s morale and not to give up or show signs of stress. I took my job very serious. Taking my handkerchief out I started to clean up the men’s shoes, telling them, “Keep your shoes clean; we are in for some waiting today! She will come.” I could tell at least one of the men did not believe me.

The groom was upbeat, saying, “I will be here if we have to wait till midnight.” That was the kind of resoluteness we needed. Deep in my heart I probably did not believe myself; there was no time for doubting. So, we waited.

And, still, at quarter to four, (15h45) the Bride was not there. Finally, at 4 pm (16h00) there was a wave of excitement at the sound of motor engines and sounds of car horns. The rest, as they say, is history!

The wedding of a friend in Chikankata will be remembered too. On the eve of the wedding my wife received an urgent message saying the bride had changed her mind. The groom’s family was in a frenzy as the matron of honor panicked what to do next.

“The cake is ready, the flower girls, and everybody is geared up for tomorrow. For heaven’s sake it is 9 pm (21h00)!” She said in despair.

Chikankata was a small community. On occasions like this there was a mass of visitors from Lusaka and all over the country wherever friends and family lived. The Mission had two main sections; the secondary school and the hospital. In between these two large sections was the studio and next to it the school hall where most of the weddings took place. The hall was decorated already.

A handful of people was aware of the crisis unfolding while the majority knew nothing and the excitement kept rising of the wedding taking place the next day.

My wife told me later as to what happened.  The crisis started at 8 pm (20h00). The Bride simply changed her mind. She refused to speak to her best friend and she shut down on the matron of honor. No one could speak to her. No one could get through the wall she put around herself.

The groom was called in but she refused to talk to him no matter how hard he pleaded with her. She simply did not respond. Her only words were, “I don’t want; it is over.” She sat alone in a room filled with the wedding paraphernalia, a very beautiful woman and fully mature to wed.

My wife, a social worker with a spiritual gift for counseling knew the girl well enough although she was not the most obvious person the immediate family would have thought of calling to try and resolve the matter.

Remember the story of the prophet in the Old Testament who came to a woman that just lost a son? He closed the door on himself and the little boy and brought the little boy to life. So it was, nearly an hour after entering the bride’s room and closing the door upon herself and the bride, my wife emerged with the revived bride.

I have tried to get to the bottom of the story to find out what happened, I get the same words, “Sometimes it happens that the Bride changes her mind. She talked to me and changed her mind.”

When she finally emerged the time was coming closer to midnight; to say the entire bridal party was excited is by far an understatement. 

Finally, let me talk about one of my kid brother’s wedding day; also at Chikankata. It takes dozens of people working tirelessly many weeks to bring the two sides together in a village wedding. So it was that after many days and nights the wedding day finally arrived.

Early that Saturday morning, the groom happened to take a walk towards the same house where the bride was housed. Normally, the two should not have seen each other until they met at the altar. This was the wedding day! The bride is prepared, dressed up to be presented to the groom in her full glory!

The young man saw the strange looking familiar face – the bride! He was surprised to see her hair style. He looked at the bride one more time and decided it was time to speak his mind out. “I hate the hair style; I cannot marry a girl who has such a strange looking hairstyle. Where is the girl I want to marry?”

The next few hours leading up to the church service was tense throughout the village as everyone learned that my kid brother was calling off the wedding as he would not marry a woman with a strange hair make-up. He would only marry the girl with a traditional “normal” hair style.

Once again, the skill and courage of my wife – the Social Worker paid off. Taking the young man aside the two argued and debated for hours until the groom understood his duty to take care of the bride regardless and also telling him whatever else that I will never know.

Imagine what a boring life this would be if all weddings went as scheduled without any hassles and challenges! What would life be if we did not have Social Workers gifted in what they do? And what would life be without women who change their minds on the night, the eve of the wedding!

Consider what Jesus gave for you and me

I rarely say things like this. Events of the past weekend however, have stirred up deep buried emotions within my heart. They surfaced to remind me of what I always say about the salvation of the LORD. I say to people who do not know me, those who think I am crazy about Jesus, "Leave me alone; you don't know where Jesus found me." Rude as that sounds it is the truth of how I often feel. 

It was not easy for me to be saved. I mean this in the sense that for a start, I had to accept the message, then, allow it to permeate my whole being, and finally prepare myself to carry the cross where I was saved. Saving me was a miracle indeed. People need to feel this way rather than feel that they owe some other human for their salvation. Hearing is the first thing as the Bible says, faith comes by hearing.

The first time to "hear" the gospel was on a day in October 1979. Up to that point everything was relative. On that day, the message became "personal" or better put, "personalized" to me. The keys to personalizing the gospel message to me were: my search for answers to specific questions, the environment I encountered, and the clarity by which the message was given. That was in 1979, and I still remember the day as if it was yesterday.

A personal message has two dimensions: someone who knows you and you, the hearer of the message. A message which addresses you by name is a personal message. When someone comes to me and says, "Mac, the LORD says you should do the following tomorrow morning..." is very personal, no matter who brings it to me. It means the sender knows me.

It takes on a deeper meaning when the message says the sender (God) knows exactly what we are going through and offers personal help. This level of personalization of message can never fail to touch the receiver. As often as preachers personalize the message to the hearers, it touches them, for better or worse. Show me a ministry that has learned to personalize the message and I will show you a church that is growing.

Today's messages are often relational and relative, not personalized. They fail to impress their hearers because they are packaged for mass distribution. They say, “Whosoever will, may come,” and stop there. They should also say, “Jesus knows you by your name and calls you to say yes to His saving grace today.”

 Jesus never meant for the message of the gospel to be only relative, but personal. Salvation is personal. God intervenes in our lives to respond to specific needs and often to answer specific questions we ask.

I wanted help for my spiritual situation. I knew the young man named Saul was right when he once said to me, "God is there, but we do not know how to worship him." Saul was a school drop in a little village near Magoye. I met him at the home of one of the witch-doctors I went for help a few months before I heard the gospel message. Although He has chosen to hide his face from us, God is there. Jesus we know, His face we know, some pictures of Jesus have been drawn and displayed in some places. But God's face!! Not a glimpse. Thank God for Jesus.

We must clarify our questions when approaching God. In life, generally, the clearer our questions are, the better our chances of receiving our answers. Sometimes we are not sure what we are asking. We sort of know what we want although we are unable to say it; we can clarify our issues and questions by reflecting and writing them down. The simpler our questions are stated the better.  After all, what ends up happening is that we may not even know what we are in need of; the process of clarifying helps us achieve that clarity.

Saturday morning October 24^th 1979, as I walked into the hall to attend the meeting that changed my life, I found young people with whom I could relate. Like me, they were full of life and promise. Their lives stretched out far into the future. Potential was unlimited. The sound of their voices still rings in my heart when I reflect deeply today. I can hear them singing, 'At the cross, at the cross, where I first saw the light..." I can hear them sing, “When I survey, the wondrous cross, at which the Prince of glory died..."  

Such sweet memories! I still see their faces, their tears, their closed eyes and gentle sway; ladies and gentlemen. I knew this was not ordinary music of happy people; they were speaking a language I did not know.

I knew they found something I was looking for. They sang out of their hearts, not out of their brains! The music was written in their hearts and all over their minds! They were one with the message they sang, "Burdens are lifted at Calvary, Calvary...," they sang on!

The message I heard was this, "Someone called Jesus of Nazareth went to the cross to pay for your release from suffering and pain. He died and paid the full price that sets you completely free. Free from the things you know that bind you and much, much more besides." 

The clarity was astounding. Here was a person looking into my eyes telling me, in the simplest way I knew, “Jesus calls you to step out; He knows what you are going through, He cares and is ready to help you, here, now.” For the first time Jesus was personal, the message was for me, not for my mother or father, as much as they loved me. The message was specific, for a specific time and place, from a specific person, specifically to me. That is the gospel.

I could respond to Jesus or hold out in my own shallow cabin sinking in the world of make believe. I chose to follow. I took my first step. He helped me with my next and the one after that.  

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When the song was finally recorded in my heart, "Just as I am without a plea...," all of my resistance was gone. All of my fears were bundled up ready to be placed at the feet of the cross. Tears filling my heart, years of bondage behind me, the unknown days ahead, mixed battles in my mind, I surged forth to the place where I could meet my Savior. That is how I got save. 

Oh how true, how true the saying, a journey of a thousand miles starts with a step. It has been a long journey for me; it started in that classroom in Makeni with the first step I took.

Consider what Jesus has done for us. He spared nothing for himself but gave it all up to make our salvation sure. He was betrayed by his own men, rejected by his own community and killed by strangers. And yet He knew we would be here today. He looked out for us.

To change our communities, we (believers) need to realize that the same keys are needed to give others a chance to enter. The Gospel is His message; Jesus', and the Holy Spirit's. It is God's message through us.

We have to figure out how to personalize that message to the person who does not want to come into our churches as well as to those who come too close to the place of God's mercy who nonetheless back away to their seats before trading in their sorrows for the joys He bestows.  

A ChiTonga proverb

"Nziniini ikukkala njiikuyanda," translated as, "The fly that sits on you likes you."

Actually we can take that further by translating the proverb word by word as follows. The fly that sits repeatedly on you likes you. 

Before we talk about how they use the proverb let us review what the proverb is saying. Flies are a nuisance especially in the dry warm tropical climate. They are all over you, throwing themselves in your food and sitting on exposed surfaces. They want to sit on your face, on the skin and especially they like to sit on the mouth where they can pick food particles.

Babies and young children suffer greatly when large numbers of flies sit on their mouths or uncovered stomachs. In the village, flies like to follow people wherever they go. Proper hygiene and appropriate perfumes can send them off in other directions.

No one likes flies hanging around at all. They are always a nuisance and hated to death by squashing. However, due to sheer numbers flies are often tolerated and waved off with one's hand. Ironically it is these creatures that this proverb speaks of liking people. If a fly repeatedly comes back after you wave it off with your hand or after missing it in an attempt to squash it, then the proverb says it really likes you.

Here is how the Tonga people use this proverb. If a person hangs around you there comes a point when people notice. They notice that it is no longer simply a matter of following you. They conclude that he loves you. In essence the proverb is saying, the person who comes often to be with you loves you... no, he or she is in love with you! That is especially true when a man and woman are involved.

I may be slightly exaggerating the idea of being in love here. However, the proverb intends to intentionally communicate the meaning that this is not merely 'liking' another person, it is a little more of being 'in love with' than merely liking him or her.

There are times when the proverb is used for a situation where people cannot possibly be 'in love', but where adoration is invoked. People can stick around those they adore.

The other time I was in the village for a wedding. A kid was fascinated by my outfit and by the story that I came from America. He followed me wherever I went. He gave me a new name and insisted on sitting next to me wherever I sat. I acknowledged him and gave him the space he needed to be himself and to explore his fascination.

A cousin came along and said to me with a hint of a smile on his face, "Nziniini!"

I smiled back and went my way knowing exactly what he just said. He said, the boy likes you very much. I said, Yes, and moved on without saying as much as one spoken word between us.

Proverbs make village life very interesting. Proverbs and body language often go hand in hand. 

It also makes it challenging if you did not grow up in the village where proverbs are often used. I am often unable to understand the meanings of some proverbs. People use different proverbs in different parts of Tonga country. Some however are common enough to be understood by most people across the four or five dialects of ChiTonga.

There is a whole language of proverbs by which people who appear to be illiterate brilliantly communicate with each other in truths a stranger might never know.

Next time a Tonga says Nziniini, remember it is not about the dirty old fly! It is about precious love. Smile!

Why we should not defend Jesus or fight for God

Christianity is centered around the death and resurrection of Jesus. Jesus is alive. He does not need a man's help to fight his battles!

Christianity is not centered on a place or thing such as a rock, a tree, a body of water, or on a person other than Jesus. Christianity is built around a relationship with Jesus, and not on a philosophical system of belief.

If it was based on a philosophy, men might argue their way through to salvation; if it was based on a place or thing, people would be at some advantage by their ability to get to the place or object of worship.

Salvation is the gift of God received by faith alone through confession of sin. Men and women of all ages can be saved only by the grace of God through the fully paid work of atonement that Jesus accomplished at Calvary. Praise be the name of the Lord.

There is no way to fight for God, or to defend a finished work of God. We can only accept it or reject it. We cannot build a fence around it, we cannot enclose it in some secure place or by some some security device. God does not need man's help or protection, neither does the work of atonement need further refinement or human explanation.

Read the Bible. Here are some interesting scriptures:

"So then faith cometh by hearing, and hearing by the word of God" Rom 10: 17. "For with the heart man believeth unto righteousness; and with the mouth confession is made unto salvation" Rom 10:10. "For if, when we were enemies, we were reconciled to God by the death of his Son, much more, being reconciled, we shall be saved by his life. Romans" 5: 10. "But God commendeth his love toward us, in that, while we were yet sinners, Christ died for us" Romans 5: 8.

A Good Friday memory

Good Friday, 199X. Our church service started at 10 AM. As we settled down to the reading of God's Word, our ears were greeted by loud cries for help. "Help! Help!" News was reaching us that a boy was drowning in the dam. In the moments while we reacted to these words, half a mile away in the dam, a soul was rising out of the body into the unknown.

We rushed out of Chifwankala, the church building situated at the bottom of Chikankata Mission. People were pouring in from all directions towards the dam. News travels fast. Church services from around the Mission were breaking up to come and see what was going on.

Within half an hour, dozens of people were standing in small groups near the edge of the water, and at the top of the dam. We still did not know what happened information was still scanty as to what actually transpired or who was involved.

We soon learned that two or three boys were involved, two of them were local high school guys. These both survived. The third among them was a University student on holiday at her sister's place. He was a visitor in Chikankata. Apparently he went under the water because he was unable to swim. This is the account of that fateful day and the days that followed.

Earlier that morning, the sister spoke with the University student, finding him awake, and greeted him.

"Good morning my brother, Happy Good Friday." She called outside his bedroom. Hers was a two bedroom house. He was occupying one of those rooms which would normally be vacant when schools were open. The brother would stay at Chikankata for a few more days while schools remained closed for the Easter break.

"Halo, I am fine, I slept well," He said, "Thanks, I will come out when I am ready."

"We will be getting ready for church in a short while, please get ready too. You can join us." She invited.

"I am not sure I want to go to church," He replied, "I have not made up my mind."

"It is customary at this time of year that we share in activities signifying the first Passover. All who are in the Mission are invited and it is very interesting." She persuaded him. 

He did not respond.

An hour later she got ready and invited him to church one more time. He turned down the invitation to go to church. 

His friends came to his place and invited him to the dam instead. He agreed.

There was a dug-out canoe at the dam. It was far from perfect. Although it could hold weights only the experienced and able to swim were safe to go on the boat. It was very risky for anyone to attempt sitting on the boat for a long time because of the danger of losing one's balance on the wavy water of the dam.

Although it appears calm at many times, the dam can develop waves when the winds are strong.

The young man did not know that or chose to ignore those dangers. Two of the three boys jumped on the boat and rowed a hundred yards towards the middle of the dam. While church services were going on, the boys rowed on the dangerous water of the dam without much thought as to what would happen if the boat capsized or if one of them fell into the water.

The dam is said to have three sections. The first is the shallow edges running about 20 yards wide or so from the sides of the dam. Most of the sides of the dam would have the shallow edge except the section near the water pump which is said to be very deep indeed. If you stand on the top of the dam you can see the signs of depth on that section of the dam, it appears very deep blue and almost always calm.

The third section is said to consist of parts of the central parts of the dam where the original stream runs. The river that created the dam is said to divide into two branches. Each of those is a fast moving current from which an object or person falling there cannot help themselves. It is very deep and dangerous in those sections.

It is quite likely that on that fateful Good Friday morning, the boys were playing where the water was deep and the currents strong and swift. What happened was narrated by the third boy who stood at the top of the hill overlooking the dam, from the dam wall.

"I saw the boat dancing from side to side and the student trying to balance on the boat where he was standing up. In a moment, he seemed to make it, to balance. The next moment he was tipped over as the entire boat went upside down. The other boy started to swim to the side of the dam. The student was not able to swim. He went under, came up once, throwing his hands in the air and water in total desperation. He went under a second time before finally appearing to surface but disappearing for the very last time I saw him."

"All this happened so quickly; all shouts for help were too late or too weak to help him."

The capsized boat bobbed up and sat on the water again, without its occupants.

By this time an hour had expired. The groups of men in a new boat went further to the point said to be where the student drowned. There were no signs of life there apart from the waves that moved about the water as usual.

The sister was standing at the edge of the water, surrounded by a group of close friends who held their hands in disbelief. "Only an hour ago he was with us, and now he is gone. Forever." Someone said.

For two long hours the groups moved about hoping for a miracle. They went in and came out, and still no sign of the student.

Finally someone advised the sister to go home and wait there. Sooner or later, perhaps days later, the body would shore up. That is when it dawned that the young man was prematurely gone, on Good Friday. The commemoration of Easter turned into a tragedy that would live with us forever. The sister loved the LORD very much. She was heart broken, at losing a young brother in such a way. Her hopes for his salvation were dashed when instead she chose on this special day, to look away and instead row a dug-out canoe over dangerous waters of the dam at Chikankata.

The sister happened to be my daughter, a very special spiritual daughter to me. This incident was not going to be forgotten, ever. Although it is hard to take lessons from your own loved ones, we all had lessons to learn about the frailty of this life and the word that says, we do not know when we shall face the LORD. At any moment, something can create a situation where we lose our lives. The Bible says, "And as it is appointed unto men once to die, but after this the judgment:it" Hebrews 9:27

Sunday morning came and went, there was no sign of the body of the student who drowned in the dam. On the morning of the seventh day a woman walking near the edge of the dam spotted the body. Thinking it was perhaps an object of interest he drew near before realizing it was the body of a dead person. Seven days.

I saw my daughter many times during that period of seven days from the hour of the young student's drowning in the dam. She was pieces of flesh and bones, broken. I had no words with which to comfort her. I dared not open my mouth, whether in comforting or in advising; I simply spoke to her with my eyes, that I loved her very much and cared for her and for the loss she felt. But since I knew not her experience and since I could not enter into her inner sorrows, I waited until her LORD would call her out and speak first.

Those are moments when all we want to say is, Hold me while I cry.

The body that lay on the mortuary floor was twisted and swollen beyond belief. The grief of my daughter settled in her heart that day. I know that because it settled in mine. How can we change so much? Seven days! Life, oh life, how fickle; how fragile and oh, how tender. While believers celebrate the life in the free gift given through the blood of the lamb, death celebrates the victory over those who reject the gift, in those mangled lives and twisted forms. And still greater the woes in eternal separation in hell where neither day nor night separates the victim from the suffering and anguish.

The last time I went hunting

   My brother saved me from a rabid dog. In retrospect, I should say, an angel of the LORD, working through my brother saved me from certain death at the teeth of a rabid dog.

   I have never been a good hunter. I tried. I could never aim straight for a clear target using catapults. I tried. I saw very few birds or rabbits in all the times I tried hunting. I did not give up easily. I tried!

   On one occasion I followed my big brother who was a good hunter. We carried our catapults and stones as we went into the bush looking for small birds and animals to bring home for food. My brother went out more often than I did. He was more successful. His aims were good on target. He brought down small  and large birds and often brought down birds in flight! He could estimate the path and aim his stone for a kill.

   For me, hunting was a necessary evil, to bring food home and feed family! For him, I think it was more than that; he enjoyed it. I may be exaggerating by saying it was probably a hobby too, but I believe so. It was hard and dangerous work to me, it was not quite so to him.

   He communicated far better with the hunting dogs and commanded their respect more than I could ever dream of doing. I believe the dogs laughed at me and at my attempts to hunt with them. If I tried to take the dogs out to hunt they spent their time playing with me and just sticking around my perimeter! If my brother took them out they searched the bush and brought important information about the animals he wanted and told him where to go. They seemed to understand each other better than with me.

   On this occasion I was walking along a path deep in the bush when I stumbled across a dog. My brother was twenty feet or so away. I gave a shout that there was a dog a few feet from where I stood. He rushed to my side and saw that the dog was getting up and  getting ready to pounce on me.

   There was no time to prepare a catapult stone and I was too close to the dog.

   "He is mad, he is mad, he has rabies..." my brother was crying out to me as he came crushing through the bushes and threw me to one side, squarely faced the dog.

    It was a big dog but not as large as the ones they feed well. This was an ordinary African dog. My brother was face to face with the rabid dog. As the dog prepared to pounce on him, he went for the open jaws. In one motion I can not adequately describe, he secured his hands, left and right within the two jaws of the mad creature, upper and lower jaws. My brother began to tear the animal apart. He wrestled it to the ground and held it with all strength and tore the jaw bones at the base of the mouth in the process. 

   When he let go, the dog was dying and in greater pain than the rabies in its brain cells. He finished it with a stick. I was watching, my catapults dangling on one arm and mouth wide.

   From there I have no recollection of what he did or did not do. I was far too scared by what had happened. 

   

   I know he killed and threw away the dog and it was very large in my eyes. I also know that was the last time I ever took catapults to go hunting in the forest.