The Maselloane Rattle

By Gael Whelan

In an attempt to steal the magic rattle of the African Zunu tribe, a young girl, Tembo, is kidnapped. While fear spreads among the local citizens, one young boy, Jonathan, attempts to rescue his friend with the help of his Father and her Grandfather.

Held captive in the Circle of White stones and guarded by a cobra, can Jonathan and his animal friends come to Tembo's rescue?

This is an adventure tale for children and the young at heart!

• Language: English
• Publisher: BookBaby
• Release date: May 13, 2015
• ISBN: 9781631929090

Gael Whelan

Gael was born in Scotland and went on her first journey, as an infant, from the United Kingdom to Canada on the Queen Mary liner. This was to be the first of many journeys to come. When she was three years old, she moved to Africa with her family. It was here that she learned that Africans referred to a journey as a “safari.” Somehow, the family adopted “safari” for every trip, as it built anticipation for an exciting adventure! The earliest safaris took the family along the strip roads of northern and southern Rhodesia (now Zambia and Zimbabwe) where there were many close encounters with wild elephants, buck, birds, crocodiles, rhinos, and people! To this day, every member of Gael’s family continue to call their trips “safaris.” It was on one of these safaris to Mana Pools that Gael introduced her young children and their cousins to the characters of the Masawani Game Park, to entertain them on their safari. The children enjoyed the stories immensely, especially when their ideas were woven into the tale and time seemed to stand still. Gael’s sister, Lexie, thankful for both the peace and quiet of the distracted children and the memories the stories evoked, insisted that they be recorded! Well, here they are. It is the author’s hope that everyone who reads her stories will develop a curiosity and a respect for life and nature in other countries.

Book preview

Whelan

Part 1

The Wisdom of the Mahobohobo Tree

Prologue

They came precisely at midnight. They seemed to come on the light breeze that wafted around the eaves of the grass thatched roof that crowned the mud and wattle hut. Their shadowy forms soon filled the old Sangoma’s hut. As he watched, he noticed that each spectre warped into the shape of the animal totem that had guided them when they had walked the earth. From where he sat, the old Sangoma could see there were five of these ghostly animal apparitions. There was a lion, an owl, a tiny field mouse, a crow, and a crested crane.

The venerable Sangoma or Medicine Man had called upon the ancients when he had made the long trek into the Masawani Game Park to the Circle of White Stones. He had arrived there at the time he referred to as the between time, when it is neither night nor day. The spirits who had been travelling the earthly plain were just about to disappear before the sun’s rays announced the birth of the new day.

He had sat in silence, sending requests of help to the departed ones for nearly an hour, before he noticed the field mouse running out from behind a log. The mouse ran right up to his feet and then twitched its whiskers at him before running into the undergrowth of the African bush that surrounded the magic circle.

The message had been received! He could leave. With this thought in mind, he started the long walk back to his home in Molelo.

The ancients had come the night after he had requested their help. Experience had taught him that each of them would have a message. He was not afraid of them, for he had asked them for their guidance, to help him lead the tribe. Guiding the members of the Zunu tribe in this modern world had many pitfalls. This was a world where the values of old had been replaced by modern values; values which were hard to understand.

He turned slightly to face their direction, bowing his head in greeting as he did so. You have come, he said respectfully.

It is as you wished, responded one of the shadowy forms.

Kimaro, Sangoma of the Zunu tribe of Molelo, thought that he recognised the voice of his late grandmother, Mofehli. She had taken the shape of her totem, the crow, a powerful totem known for its intelligence and trickery, as well as bringing signs of good luck and magic to the inhabitants of the planet.

Kimaro listened carefully, for he knew each instruction or message that the ancients conveyed was to be followed exactly as told to achieve the best outcome for his people.

What is it that you would have me do?

Pay attention to the raising of the two children that are to come, said Mofehli.

The birth of these two children will happen in the year ahead, said the lion spectre. Surely this was the voice of Kaladi, his father, who had passed away so many years ago. A tear of sadness ran down the cheek of the old Sangoma.

Kimaro was amused to see that the third wispy form was that of the tiny field mouse. These children, one who will be your granddaughter, and one who will be the son of the game warden, will be born. It is your granddaughter, Kimaro, who will be the next medicine woman of the tribe.

The Sangoma nodded his head, acknowledging her words. This was the voice of Zina. Kind Zina; she had cared for him when he was a child. Her news was exciting; finally he was to be a grandfather! Not only was he to have a granddaughter, she was to succeed him as the next Sangoma of the tribe.

At first Kimaro didn’t recognise the voice of this fourth spirit when it leant forward and said sternly in a voice sounding like that of the crested crane, Not only must she know the traditional ways, she must also learn about the medicine of the Western people. She will have the ability to learn everything easily. These words came out in a low squawk. Instantly Kimaro knew it was Lodi, a woman who had frightened him very much when he was a boy of only seven summers. A shiver ran down his back at the memory of her scolding him when she was angry. This had happened before she had gone to the spirit world many, many winters ago.

Their education is your responsibility; you must guide them, said the owl. A smile crossed the old Sangoma’s lips. This was his old teacher, Uroba, speaking again. Stern in life, and now stern in death. The wisdom of this old owl reminded Kimaro how his old teacher had given him many tips to help him navigate his own way through life.

It is your granddaughter who is to become the next Sangoma of our tribe, Kimaro. It is you who will teach her everything she will need to know to take care of our people.

What of the game warden’s child? What should he do? Kimaro asked. Now the voice of Kaladi, his father, answered him. This child will remember how to communicate with all the animals of the planet as our forefathers were able to do. He will assist your granddaughter in her quest to help and protect our tribe and Umama Umphansi.

Kimaro was just about to ask the ghostly spectres for more information when a gust of wind seemed to blow them right out of the little hut into the dark and starry night, leaving him wondering exactly how he was to help the children.

Kimaro stayed awake a long time that night, pondering the information he had been given. He was determined to begin and maintain the education of the children who the ancients had predicted would come. He tried to remember the beginnings of his own education. What was it his mother had told him when he was a small boy? He thought for a while longer, then suddenly her words from over fifty years earlier drifted into his mind.

The education of all children should begin with the mother of the child seeking help from the spirit of the mahobohobo tree before the child is even born. The wisdom of the ancient wild fig tree is well known in our culture. The information the tree spirit imparts to a pregnant woman who has consulted it has proven to be very useful in raising the child. Kimaro knew he would have to persuade the two future mothers to consult the tree for its help in educating their children, once they