Hoerikwaggo: A Tale of Two Baboons

By Sedick Sasman

The Hoerikwaggo mountain range is on fire. Smiley and Knuckles, two young baboons scavenging for food, discover a human baby left alone and in danger.

Smiley convinces reluctant Knuckles that they have to save her and in doing so, they are met with strong disapproval from others back home. The two are catapulted into a quest to reunite the baby with the humans and their journey leads them to discover the wonders and magic of the mountains.

The landscape has changed however, and the two baboons soon discover that not all is as it seems.

Challenged by a rival baboon hell bent on sabotaging their plans, stalked by a mysterious bird trying to steal the baby, and facing discrimination from other animals, they race through the mountains the get the baby back home.

The story of Smiley and Knuckles’ suspenseful and often hilarious adventure, is told through the eyes of Xam, a healer who lives in the Hoerikwaggo Mountains, and who seems to be holding secrets of her own.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Sedick Sasman
• Release date: Jun 16, 2021
• ISBN: 9780620935623

Sedick Sasman

Sedick Sasman has been making stuff up and telling stories in various forms for just over two decades.Originally trained in design and brand development creating visual stories for companies, he uses what he’s learnt over the years to paint pictures with words instead.As far back as he can remember, his fascination and curiosity with life and things always led him to find stories all around him, even in the tiniest of details. This overactive imagination did occasionally land him in hilarious situations that, to this day, he cannot explain.His debut kid’s novel, Hoerikwaggo, is set in his childhood playground; the mountains and forests of Cape Town, South Africa. Refusing to grow up, he returns there often with his wife and son, and has interesting conversations with trees.

Book preview

Xam

K EOW-KEOW!

KEOW-AH-HA-HA!

The sound echoed across the summer afternoon sky as a seagull soared through the air. It was quite large — larger than we imagine seagulls to be — with dark grey wings and ruffled, dirty-white feathers. It glided with a gentleness and easiness of a creature with no care in the world, and it watched its shadow pass over the ground below, rippling over the hills, over scattered trees, and over the rooftops of human dwellings.

The city down there was like no other. It had no noticeable borders between it, the majestic mountains, and the fuzzy forests. These borders had for a long time been somewhat… blurred.

KEOW-AH-HA-HA! the seagull sounded again, as it glided along.

Its shadow passed over an open field where a flurry of squirrels were running and tumbling and playing with a little child. The seagull watched as its squiggling shadow moved farther along the ground to a woman sitting quietly in her garden. Just next to the woman a family of mongooses playfully wrestled and rolled on the lawn, each trying to get their paws on a piece of food. In the same garden, a caracal laid stretched out on the roof of a wooden cabin, basking in the afternoon sun. It licked its paw lazily, and watched the seagull pass by up above.

In the near distance, the sparkle of the ocean water lit up the horizon. Small, crashing waves sent a fine spray up into the air, cooling it slightly and comfortably as it travelled on the breeze. The seagull closed its eyes for a moment, took a deep breath, and soared towards the coast.

The seagull followed the path of the meandering mountains, swerving left, then right, and left again, swooping down, then up and up and up. It squawked a satisfied squawk, taking comfort in all that it saw below. Animals, of all manner of wildness, roamed freely and lived in harmony with humans. The land, with its colourful fynbos, its shady trees, and rocky slopes, belonged to them all. Shared. This was home. This was nature, united and connected. In many other places this kind of fearless existence was only a dream for many animals and humans alike.

Even seagulls would usually be chased and shooed away by humans. Here though, the birds were welcomed — and even celebrated.

As the seagull flew up high in the clear blue sky, two other seagulls, a small one and a larger one, briefly joined it in its flight and soared on either side of it. They greeted each other in the loud, secret seagull language and then, soon thereafter, the two birds flew off towards the mountains.

KEOW-KEOW! KEOW-AH-HA-HA! the seagull squawked as it dived and disappeared behind some large pine trees.

Moments later, near a park bench at the foot of the mountain, an old woman with tattered clothing rummaged in the bushes. She mumbled to herself as she searched for something amongst the leaves and grass.

Not here… not there… where… Aha! She found what she was looking for! She popped her head up suddenly, looking rather pleased with herself. The old woman pulled out a drum and two shakers from the bush, and settled herself down at the park bench. Her face looked tired yet had a distinct peaceful glow, and her eyes shimmered with a deep seated gratitude.

She was a healer who lived in an empty cave not too far up the mountain. She beat the drum three times, loudly, and then put it down in front of her. She placed the shakers neatly on the bench, and stretched her arms out, as if waiting for a hug from the sky. She mumbled a few words and kicked her feet up as she leaned against the back of the bench. The woman gazed intently at everything that surrounded her, with a look of wonder and satisfaction.

She took a deep, slow breath in and closed her eyes, listening to the joyful sounds that were coming from every direction. She breathed out and listened to the squeaking of some field mice running across the street. There were bees buzzing in the distance, insects chirping, and people chatting away. She smiled softly.

Her attention was grabbed by the sound of leaves rustling in the breeze, then, just as quickly, drawn to the babbling sound of a stream nearby. Her face lit up even more as she sat there, basking in the music of the world around her.

A flock of singing birds settled on a branch of the tree just next to the bench, and again she listened intently. She believed that everything in the natural world had something to tell us: stories. Stories that unfold all around us, all the time. Even in the tiniest of details. If we listened hard and long enough, she’d say, we would eventually be able to understand, because we are ourselves part of this nature that we so often adore. Maybe we’ve just forgotten.

And sure enough, as the birds chirped and sang their hearty tunes, she sat there listening, and smiling, as if she understood.

After some time the sounds of the birds became quieter and quieter, almost fading into the distance. She focussed on a sound which, in and amongst the many other sounds of city and nature, was like no other. It was the joyous sound of laughter and giggling, which seemed to be getting closer and closer to where she was sitting, still with her eyes closed. She listened carefully and beat her drum three more times.

A few minutes had passed when the laughter and giggles arrived at the park bench, at the foot of the mountain, in the form of a small group of children. They scrambled towards the old woman and shuffled around with excitement and anticipation, forming a half circle on the ground in front of her.

The old woman sat in silence with her eyes shut and waited for them to settle down.

Is she asleep? asked a child, Why is her eyes closed?

I heard she is homeless, said a boy.

My dad said she lives somewhere in the mountains, replied another. He called her a funny name… v- vagr- vagrant… or something.

Do you think she’s a witch? asked a little girl, sounding slightly scared. My mom said witches sometimes live in the mountains.

There’s no such thing as witches! said another boy. Pfft.

My mom said if we’re not careful, the witches will put a spell on you… and turn you into a mouse or a frog or something, the girl said. I don’t want to be a frog.

Hehehe! laughed the boy. They can’t do that. There’s no such thing as magic either! Didn’t you learn that in school?

The chatter amongst the children erupted into a lively discussion about whether magic exists or if it is all just made up, either to trick them or to scare them.

Just then, the old woman opened her eyes and, with a child-like joy on her face, said excitedly in one breath: Hello! When I say ‘Hello’ you say ‘Hello Xam’ because so is my name. Hello… Hello Xam… good!

The children went from startled to excited in an instant. Hello Xam! they exclaimed in unison. They looked around at each other, with smiles and laughter, seemingly putting their debate to rest.

Ah, it is now. Yes, now it is! exclaimed Xam, rattling the shakers. Now it is the time for a storeee… THE storeee… of courage, and adventure… and wonderful magic!

Yeah! exclaimed the children.

We also call storeee ‘Ibali’… say to me!

Time for Ibali! yelled the children.

Hoerikwaggo

Xam gazed at the children with enlarged eyes, and an excitement that was so visible it seemed as though she glowed and sparkled. She hit three loud beats on her drum and shook the shakers three times to begin her story.

One long, long ago time, said Xam, pointing animatedly at the surroundings. All of this you see around you was not like this, you see?

The children looked to one another with confusion. What on earth was this strange old woman going on about? They sat anyway, saying not a single word, waiting to hear the story.

There was once two— Wait… no… I start at the beginning! Xam said, interrupting herself. The beginning is the beginning, and the end is the end. When we start at the beginning we can find our way to the end. Ja? she added, with a bouncy excitement.

The children giggled among themselves but Xam paid it no mind. She hit her drum three more times, rattled her shakers, and continued with her story.

"Longer, longer ago… when there was nothing. NOTHING! Not a thing to see, or to touch, or to smell, the god of making things decided to make our world… this world. This god is called Qamata. For many many days and many many nights he worked hard to make all the things we see as beautiful as it could be, so when the first people and animals arrive, everything will be ready for them."

She paused for a short moment to let the children look at the surroundings.

You see that rock next to you? That flower? That bush over there? she asked.

The children fumbled around to look, but before they could see what Xam was pointing at she went on, faster and faster with much excitement, waving her arms around, looking like she was dancing.

"Ah, and the treeee, and the