The Odyssey of Queen Khorommbi: The Past Happened Now

By Risof Malatji

Queen Khorommbi’s life has been made so miserable by her husband’s abuse that she sees no other choice but to flee into the bush, hoping to make her way to freedom. Soon, though, she discovers that two of the king’s contract killers are in close pursuit. When they confront her at the edge of a cliff, both the queen and her pursuers fall to their deaths.

In the afterlife, Queen Khorommbi meets her aunt, Nana, who introduces her to the queen’s late father, Mbodola, and a mysterious man named Dambura. Then Aunt Nana sends her back among the living. Queen Khorommbi finds herself in Damburas hut in a world that seems to have shifted. What she learns next about her past and about the way the world works will change everything about her future.

In this novel, a queen fleeing an abusive marriage finds herself on a strange journey through a dream world that reveals truths about her life she had never known.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse UK
• Release date: May 29, 2019
• ISBN: 9781728388182

Risof Malatji

Risof Malatji was born in the small town of Bushbuckridge in Mpumalanga, South Africa. After graduating with a BSc degree in mathematics from the University of Limpopo, he spent many years working in the IT and telecommunication industries, both in South Africa and abroad (the UK, Cameroon, and Benin). He holds a master’s degree in business leadership from the University of South Africa. Risof is an avid reader.

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Chapter 1

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The exhaustion of walking for the whole night weighed heavily on me. I summoned the last bit of energy in my reserves to drag myself across the road, thinking, the minute I crossed, I would find someplace to hide and sleep out the exhaustion. Then I could continue my journey the next day.

That was no ordinary place. It was the wild, teeming with all types of dangerous animals like lions, tigers, jackals, and hyenas, not to mention the poisonous snakes. It was also a perfect place for hunters. A vulnerable woman alone in the bush spelled prey for them. If they found you, they could either kill you or violate you. You would be at their mercy. Sometimes you could be lucky and fall in the hands of civil hunters who would ensure that you journeyed back home safely. That, though, rarely happened.

I had walked through those thick bushes from the moment I escaped Khorommbi’s house. Khorommbi had been an obdurate abuser who made my marriage with him intolerable. He had made my life so miserable that I finally saw no option but to run. I had been lucky thus far not to have been attacked and killed by wild animals or bitten by venomous snakes lurking in the bushes. I had seen several of those wild animals in the bushes, and every time I saw them, I thought my life was over, but I always managed to avoid them.

I had been hatching my escape plan for a while. One Saturday morning, an opportunity to escape presented itself, and I grabbed it with both hands. It happened when King Khorommbi and his men went out on business for the whole weekend. They left the Friday morning and were due to return the following Monday afternoon.

That was a perfect opportunity. I would be able to cover a great distance before King Khorommbi and his men found out about my escape. I didn’t even know where I wanted to go. I just wanted to be away from my relentless abuser.

I packed my small suitcase with clothes and put a food container on the side, ensuring that the food wouldn’t spill on my fresh-smelling, well-packed, and clean clothes. The food was enough to last me for a day or two. I took just enough clothes for the road ahead: two dresses, two T-shirts, a tracksuit, and three pairs of underwear.

After packing, I took a long shower. I resolved that that would be my last shower in the palace. After I had dried myself, I took my favourite pink T-shirt from my wardrobe and put it on. I put on a tracksuit that I used for exercising. Although it was summer, the morning breeze was a little cold, so I put on a sweater. I took my sneakers from the shoe rack and put them on too. I wrapped a small blanket around my waist to ensure I had something to cover myself with when I found a place to sleep.

Taking a lot of clothes and food would have weighed me down. The next village from Ndabaland was some kilometres away. I didn’t want to arrive at my destination exhausted from a heavy load in my suitcase. I hoped to meet neighbourly villagers who would share a meal or two.

I left the palace around two o’clock on Saturday morning. The guards usually changed their shift at that time, so I knew I would be able to sneak out unnoticed.

Khorommbi’s palace was about an hour’s walk from the mountain. I tried as much as possible to be inconspicuous. I spent the morning walking and rested during the midday hours. The rest was not so much rest as it was spying on Khorommbi’s village. I mostly sat on a tree branch that overlooked the village. My spying activities were interrupted by a nap here and there.

On Saturday afternoon, I saw a lot of movement, particularly in Khorommbi’s palace. A car went out, and I had a feeling that they were looking for me. It looked like one of the vehicles they had used when they left the previous day. When I saw that car, I wondered why they had come back so early.

I watched the car from the top of the mountain as it meandered on the winding road in my direction. I was at a perfect vantage position. It stopped and two men got out. A few minutes later, they got back in and drove on to the village. My guess was they were trying to look for fresh tracks leading toward the mountain. They didn’t go into the bushes. No one was comfortable walking into the bushes, save the hunters. You wouldn’t risk your life unless you had to.

I had a reason to be there. I was running from my miserable life. I was running from my terrible abuser. I was running from King Khorommbi.

I left my spying position when the sun was setting to walk the remaining kilometres to the next village, where I hoped to find a temporary abode. My body itched from lack of a bath; bathing is nature’s prescription for every woman. I ignored the itching and focused on my walking. My priority was to get as far away from my pursuers as possible. My stomach growled, reminding me that it was time to eat. But I deferred until I found a comfortable place to sit.

With the night approaching, I worried about the wild animals that hunted for anything that moved. That was not my only concern. I faced three possible dangers: Khorommbi’s men, the wild animals, and the hunters who were likely to maltreat me. If a woman fell into the hands of hunters, she was lucky if they only abused her and left her alive. In most cases, they killed their victims for fear that those victims would identify and report them to the indunas in the village. The laws in the villages were dreadfully strict, and at times unfair judgements resulted in innocent people losing their lives. If one was found guilty by the traditional court, no further investigation was conducted, and a hefty penalty, which was sometimes death, was given. Everyone was aware of that fact. The hunters therefore did not risk leaving their victims alive. They would violate a woman and then kill her.

I needed to be careful about where I slept, to ensure that it was the safest place. I needed to stay alive. I wanted to prove to myself that I could survive on my own, and I would. I didn’t need King Khorommbi, or any man for that matter, to protect me.

When full night fell, I was still going through the bushes. I finally got to the main road at close to midnight, and the only illumination was the moon. After I crossed the road, I continued walking on the right side, facing east. The road was quiet, but my mind was busy. Busy thinking about the dangers I faced by walking in the bushes alone at night. Busy thinking about my vulnerability as a woman, since I had nothing to defend myself with. Busy thinking about how to stay safe from my pursuers. Busy thinking about the animals that might be stalking me, waiting for the right moment to pounce.

The moon was bright enough for me to see where I was going. I was trying to get to a safer place, which was only a kilometre away. We had once driven there with Aunt Nana while she was visiting one of her friends. I remembered marvelling at the cliff and asking Aunt Nana how cliffs were formed. I was fascinated by the view. As a child, I questioned everything I saw.

I walked on a faint, thin footpath that was parallel to the main road, between it and a considerable cliff. The space between the road and the cliff was about two to three metres. The footpath was about a metre away from the cliff.

I could see the bottom of the cliff from where I was walking. I chose to walk on that side because there was nothing on my right save the cliff, so I only had to worry about animals, which would possibly be on my left in the thick bush. Small shrubs littered the footpath every five to ten metres. Those would serve as potential hiding places in case something life-threatening showed up.

I wanted to get to the end of the cliff and then look for a place to sleep. The cliff extended for a good kilometre before it petered out. So, I had a kilometre to walk.

My only concern until then were the hunters and animal predators that jealously guarded their habitat. I thought I did not need to worry about Khorommbi’s men. I had managed to escape them earlier that day. They should be back in their village, sleeping and dreaming about how to catch me.

Unexpected tyre screeches on the road behind me suddenly disturbed the peace of the night and interrupted my thoughts. I turned and looked back. It was all dark save the dim light reflected by the moon. The screeching was unnerving. I hadn’t heard the roar of the car as it approached; where had it come from at that time of the night?

The village had a limited number of cars. Only the king and a few rich people owned cars, and only kings and coroners owned black cars. I could see under the moonlight that the car was black. I didn’t know why they all liked black cars. Perhaps it was an unwritten law that everyone knew except me.

It then occurred to me that those must have been King Khorommbi’s men. I knew instinctively that they had come for me. I had no shred of doubt that they were my pursuers. I didn’t see the car registration plates; I just knew. They must have tracked me using the footprints I had inevitably left behind. How had they known that I would be at that point in the bush at that hour? Was it by chance? The bush was vast; there were many places to cross. A plethora of questions ran through my mind as I evaluated my options for escaping.

There were still no lights when I approached the road to cross to the other side where I felt it would be safer. I was nearly across when suddenly, I saw the moonlight gleaming on chrome. There was their car on the road, a few metres away from me, making it impossible to run across the road back to the bush and hide.

The car had been travelling with its lights switched off. Had they driven with the lights on, they would have unwittingly alerted me that there was a car on the road, and I would have hidden until the car had passed. I felt cornered and confounded.

The lights went on. My heart started beating fast. The man in the passenger seat opened the door and pushed his left foot out of the car.

My first reaction was to run, run for my life—but there was no place to run. I couldn’t outrun those men. I was completely fagged out: my body was heavy and aching from fatigue, and my feet were sore and swollen.

But I also couldn’t afford to be caught and face that firstborn son of the devil again. He had messed up my entire life in an untold number of ways. I walked around with lasting emotional and permanent physical scars from that marriage. The gruesome things he had done to me were unimaginable. I was scared even to see his face. I would have ended up dead one day had I not decided to escape from him. The numerous attacks that I had endured in that palace were just unthinkable.

I knew I would freeze to death next time I saw him. My feeble heart would determinedly stop beating. I hated him with every fibre of my being.

I started imagining the things that could happen to me in that area, Ndabaland, if they caught me. All Khorommbi’s men were athletic men, well trained with well-built bodies to ensure that they could attend to all the missions of the king. I could tell from those men’s persistence that he was treating my escape as a priority. He knew they wouldn’t give up until they had found me and brought me home. They wouldn’t desist from the hunt for his fugitive wife—the wife whom he had abused for so many years, the wife who couldn’t take the attacks anymore, the wife who so yearned for a new life without him, somewhere far, somewhere too far from that place.

I quickly determined that I would make their mission impossible, or at the least difficult to accomplish. I would prove to both those men and King Khorommbi that I was not only a beautiful, small-framed woman, but I was also smart and tough. I didn’t discount the possibility that I might have to use my remaining energy to fight to my death or perhaps to their end. I would rather die than go back to that horrible king; I would even commit suicide if need be.

My small bag of clothes was in my shaking hand. I felt it had suddenly become excessively heavy. I had only two options: outrun these athletic men or throw myself down the cliff. In either case, I was not going to need the bag of clothes anymore. I took off the blanket that I had wrapped around my waist and threw it away.

I was on a winding road at the top of the mountain that separated King Khorommbi’s village from the next village. Khorommbi’s men had seen me already. I was a vulnerable, poor woman. Those men could do anything to me there, and no one would know about it. That thought sent chills down my spine. I wasn’t sure whether the king had sent them to take me back or to finish me off. Anything was possible with the king; he was reticent and unpredictable, a man of a few words, as if his words were rare, expensive jewels which could only be disbursed discreetly to those worthy of receiving them.

The car’s lights shone directly into my sore, exhausted eyes. ‘Stop,’ a man yelled. It sounded like Daniel’s voice. I didn’t want to believe what I saw. Yes, it was Daniel. My mind froze when I saw him. It inevitably took me back to the time of the rape—the unforgettable, unforgivable rape that had shattered my soul.

I shut my eyes to block the memory, and when I opened them, they were blurry from the tears I was trying so hard to hold back. I abhorred that man. ‘Stop’, to me, sounded like ‘run as you have never done before’. I had decided never to obey that voice. A man who disrespects and abuses women is insensitive, arrogant, and despicable. Why should I obey such a man? It was difficult for me to listen to his voice. It made my whole-body ache.

‘Stop!’ he shouted again.

Daniel had disappeared from the palace immediately after raping me. His disappearance had lasted long enough to make me think he was dead. That belief had kept me going for all that time. He is alive—what now? I wondered.

Fear gripped me at the sight of him. I was facing one of the most ruthless killers the king had. Daniel had been working for King Khorommbi for as long as I could remember.

I once overheard a private conversation between King Khorommbi and Daniel, which entailed plans for killing non-compliant subjects. I had also heard from some villagers that Daniel was responsible for the disappearance of many people in Ndabaland. My heart skipped a beat. Sweat started running down my forehead. I knew I was trapped.

He was trying to pull out his other foot when another car travelling in the opposite direction honked to alert them that their car was blocking the road. Daniel’s car had stopped abruptly, sloppily and carelessly in the middle of the road. They blocked almost the entire road perhaps assuming that there wouldn’t be any car on the road at night. In the villages, where there were very few cars, it was easy to assume that.

The newcomer’s car had been moving at high speed and could have collided with Daniel’s vehicle had it not moved. There was nothing I wished for more than for that accident to happen, and for their instant death. But Daniel pulled his foot back into the car, and it moved to the left to give the other car enough space to drive past.

I saw this as an opportunity to run a few metres and keep a reasonable distance between us.

I looked back and saw Daniel jump out immediately, maybe even before his car came to a complete halt. I also saw the brake lights from the other car, giving me the impression that it was stopping, that the people inside were interested in what was happening and might come to my rescue. Then they sped away, perhaps fearing to meddle in the night’s affairs.

When the passing car’s lights shone on Daniel, it was evident that the people inside had seen him, but he obviously couldn’t have cared less. He had the target in sight, and he was not going to lose it. His instruction from the cruel king must have been unambiguous. I imagined the king saying, ‘Find the woman or die. Bring her back to me dead or alive.’ If I were dead, he would invariably want proof. Failing in that mission could have dire consequences for Daniel. King Khorommbi was not someone to mess with. If he wanted something done, it had to be done his way, or else his minion would face repercussions.

I kept running down the road. I looked back and saw Daniel running behind me. I ran as fast as I could. I still had my bag of clothes in my hand, waiting for the right opportunity to dispose of it. I ran for a few metres alongside the cliff. The distance between Daniel and me was gradually closing.

I stopped at the edge of the cliff and looked down at the bottom, intimating that I was going to throw myself down. He kept running towards me. When he was between eight and ten metres away, I shouted, ‘Stop, or I will jump!’

The sharp rocks at the bottom of the cliff seemed to cheerfully await me. They would probably send me to my early grave. My hair stood on end.

After I shouted, Daniel stopped. I looked back at him again. He was standing a few metres away, catching his breath. He looked down the cliff, then at me. I assessed the depth of that cliff and thought of all the possible scenarios if I were to throw myself down. I was faced with two decisions: to roll down the steep slope or to allow him to catch me and take me back to face the irate king who had made my life unbearable for over eight years.

I had had enough of Khorommbi’s attacks. Going back to him was not an option. I even imagined dying as my ticket to freedom. This was my moment. This was my chance. I was not going to let this excellent opportunity slip through my fingers. I wasn’t going to let them catch me alive and take me back to King Khorommbi.

Daniel possibly anticipated what was about to happen. He begged, ‘Stop! Don’t jump. Please don’t jump.’ He had his arms stretched out as if he was imploring me to choose to jump into his arms. He wanted to save me, not because he cared about me, but for Khorommbi. ‘Don’t jump,’ he repeated. ‘Please don’t.’

‘If you come closer, I will jump,’ I threatened in a trembling, squeaky voice. My eyes were blurry from the tears.

He took a few steps back. ‘You see, I am moving back. Please don’t jump.’ His arms still outstretched, perhaps to signal that he was not going to do anything malevolent.

He took two more steps back, and as he did, I turned to look at the cliff, still deciding whether to jump or not. That split second of taking my gaze away from him, gave him an opportunity to react. He sprinted towards me to catch me before I could jump. I saw him from the corner of my eye. I immediately tossed my bag of clothes in his way. He stepped on it with his left foot. That threw all his weight to the right—on the side of the cliff.

He stumbled and staggered, trying with all his strength to regain his balance. His eyes bulged, darting between me and the cliff. I wanted to run, but for some reason I didn’t. I couldn’t. I kept looking at him. He looked at the cliff and back at me again. His eyes grew wider and red. He started screaming.

His colleague got out of the car and started running towards us. He might have realised what was about to happen.

Daniel fell. He went past me with a hand stretched to grab me, missing me by a few centimetres, and he tumbled down the cliff. My bag of clothes flew past him, ripping apart after it hit the sharp rocks. The clothes spilled from the bag over the naked, quiet shrubs and small, thick bushes that watched silently.

Daniel tried to grab a few shrubs, but they uprooted as he plummeted. I heard his flinching scream as he hit the first rock. He kept screaming as he saw the rocks that awaited him. I watched—terrified, helpless, and slightly relieved—as he hit them. He tumbled until he hit a massive rock that stretched for a few metres at the bottom of the cliff. Then he lay lifeless. I closed my eyes and trembled.

His accomplice seemed astonished. He stared at his dead friend at