Continued from Ngano| The moon and how the world was made
Mwedzi was restless, tossing and turning all night. Flashbacks of his first night with Nyamatsatsi shot through his head. Curious, he awoke very early the following morning. When he looked at Marinda he noticed her body was swollen, just as he had suspected. She seemed restless and whimpered in her sleep, as if in pain. As she opened her eyes Mwedzi, noticing her confused reaction, quickly assured her that everything would turn out alright.
As soon as it was daybreak, just like Nyamatsatsi had done, Marinda began to bear. She gave birth to all the birds. On the second night they slept together again, and the following morning Marinda bore all four-legged animals including sheep, goats, lions, leopards, elands and cattle. The day after, she bore boys and then girls. By evening, the children were fully grown.
All were the offspring of Marinda, people and animals alike. So they lived side by side with respect for each other. On each of the nights Mwedzi had slept with Marinda, he would smear Marinda’s and his loins with the oil.
On the fourth night, he peered into the horn and realised that the oil would soon run out. It made him somewhat worried, but then he just brushed off the thought. He moistened his finger with the oil, so he could perform what had become his nightly ritual. Just as he was about to smear the oil, he heard the loud roar of thunder.
Dark clouds formed in the sky, and then heavy raindrops hit the ground. In no time rain was pouring down. Thunder rumbled and roared angrily as branches of lighting tore across the sky. The sky had waged war against the earth. Some animals sought shelter, others huddled together, while others just stood there in the open and seemed to tolerate the storm. The children ran to Mwedzi and Marinda and they all took shelter in the hut, huddled together as they trembled with fear.
Then Nyadenga’s voice thundered. “Mwedzi, please do not go ahead with that act. If you do, then you have sealed your fate.” The thunderstorm quieted, and Nyadenga was gone. This was the last time any one of them would ever hear the voice of Nyadenga.
Mwedzi was terrified. Marinda however was not ready to give up. She decided they had to hide from Nyadenga. “You should make a door to close the entrance of the hut,” said Marinda to Mwedzi. “That way, Nyadenga will not see anything we do.” Mwedzi agreed. He made a door and they used it to close the entrance of the hut. So on the fourth night, Mwedzi and Marinda slept together once more.
As before, Marinda awoke the following morning swollen and ready to give birth. This time she bore reptile, insects, scorpions and spiders. Among these creatures was the snake. Musiki, knowing what lay ahead, was displeased with Mwedzi’s heedlessness.
On the fifth night, Marinda would not let Mwedzi sleep with her. “Listen,” she said. “A woman will bear if she spends the night with you. Your daughters are grown. Surely you could sleep with them instead.” Mwedzi thought about his daughters, and found no reason to protest Marinda’s proposition. They had grown into beautiful young women. Then Marinda sent the girls off to Mwedzi, and they slept with him that night.
At daybreak the following morning, Mwedzi’s daughters bore many boys and girls who by nightfall were fully grown. Then they all went their separate ways and different clans were founded.
A large kingdom came into being. Its people were hunter gatherers and farmed the land. They built a city made of stone houses. More people were born and filled the earth.
After the time Marinda sent her daughters off to Mwedzi, she developed a fond relationship with the snake. This creature was a rather suspicious character. The two lived together and Marinda could no longer produce any offspring. On the other hand, Mwedzi was growing old and weary with each passing day. He worried about Marinda. Soon it would be two years from the time she had come to be with him, yet she now lived with the snake. He longed to be with her.
One night he visited her and asked that they sleep together. Marinda was reluctant. ‘Now I live with the snake and can no longer be with you,’ she said. ‘You have to leave.’ Mwedzi was adamant. Unaware that the snake lay coiled on the other side of the hut, he went ahead to lie beside her as she lay on a sleeping mat. On seeing this, the snake was enraged and swiftly slithered over to Mwedzi and struck him on the leg. Its venom poisoned Mwedzi, and he became very ill.
Mwedzi’s illness continued. The rainy season passed without any rains. There was no water for plants and animals, and the plants withered. It is then that Rufu (which means ‘death’) came upon the earth. People and animals alike slowly starved and some died. It seemd as if Mwedzi’s illness was draining the life out of all creation.
Mwedzi was remorseful. He surely had chosen the path of death. It was him that had brought death upon all creation. If only he had heeded Musiki’s warning, things would not have gone out of control. He could have lived peacefully with Marinda. Now there was rivalry between him and the snake. To his children too, the snake had become the enemy.
He summoned all his children. They gathered around him, with long sorrowful faces. “I am dying, and all creation seems to be dying with me,” Mwedzi said. “I cannot allow this. Get the diviner, so that he may guide us.” Since they could no longer hear the voice of Nyadenga, they now resorted to a diviner.
The diviner got there, and then sat beside where Mwedzi lay. He took a calabash of snuff and emptied a little into his palm, then took a pinch and sniffed it into each of his nostrils. He immediately let out an explosive sneeze. From a small pouch which hung round his neck, He then took his divination objects. These included small carved pieces of wood, and other strange looking trinkets.
The diviner scattered the bones onto the floor, then he chanted and clapped. This was followed by silence. Then he closely examined the bones. The atmosphere was tense. After this, he slowly raised his head, looked intensely at Mwedzi’s children and shook his head. “Death wants him,” said the diviner. “There is nothing more we can do.”
His children were sorrowful and began to sob. Mwedzi comforted them, then he gave his dying wish, to rest in Dziva from whence he had come. Just as soon as he finished speaking, his body succumbed to the snake’s venom, and he breathed his last. It was exactly two years from the creation of Marinda.
They took Mwedzi’s body and sank it in Dziva. Marinda was devastated. ‘Now what have I done?’ she cried. ‘I was created for Mwedzi and yet I failed him. There is nothing left for me. I should go and be with him.’ Marinda left and no one could find her. After a few days, she was found dead. Some said she had died from a broken heart. The children also sank her body in Dziva, so she could join Mwedzi.
Then the rain fell again, and life was breathed into all creation. Though death ceased to wreak havoc, it did not leave the earth. The people knew an enemy was now among them. Because of what the snake had done, boundaries were established between man and animals. A lot of the animals left to establish a kingdom of their own in the wild. Nyadenga took Mwedzi and Marinda, and put them back in the sky. They became what they were before they came to the earth.
To this day, sometimes you might see Nyamatsatsi in the morning sky, or Marinda in the evening sky. And more often than not, you will see Mwedzi in the night sky.
This is the story of Nyadenga, Mwedzi, and the beginning of life on earth.
The recording of this legend is attributed to Leo Frobenius (1873–1938). I have retold the story in my own way, while trying to preserve its key aspects.