She felt her cervical muscles bulge as his thick head pressed into her. She was so tight, he was still barely passed her lips. Her chest heaved as he relentlessly pressed into her. Suddenly, a cracked voice thundered, and the Chief stopped. Sandy didn't understand the language, but the gestures were quite apparent. The Chief bowed his head, and stood up. She only caught one familiar word: "Mamlambo", the tribal name of the creature they were searching for. The men let her go.
Sandy stood up quickly to see the huge chief being scolded my a thin, tiny old man that was covered in fish bones and smeared with ash. A wild, intoxicated look was in his eyes as he waved a thin finger toward the river, and then at Sandy. Again, she heard him say "Mamlambo". She really wished she had one of the guides with her to translate. The Chief did not look happy with the Shaman, but his word was absolute. Angrily, he stormed off back to his tent, grabbing the wrist of one of the young women and dragging her in with him.
Sandy stood, arms crossed, unsure what to do. She wasn't sure she could find her way back to the river, and she definitely didn't want to stick around here. The Shaman waved his staff, and yelled something. All the villagers went back to their huts and their normal routines. "You. White. Follow." He said in English. The Shaman motioned to her. Sandy bit her lower lip, but didn't really see many other options. The young men of the village still had a lustful look in their eyes, some stroking themselves openly as she walked passed them.
The Shaman's hut was a whirl of bones and odors that Sandy wished she had never smelled. It was small and crammed full of both traditional containers and glass jars. A crucifix was on the wall, poorly waterlogged. "Sit." He said, as he lowered himself onto a crate.
"Thank you for saving me out there. Do you speak English?" She said, suddenly remembering she wasn't wearing a bikini bottom. She sat on a thick pile of cloth, her legs scissoring back and forth, sliding smoothly over each other.
"Yes. I spent three years as the guide to missionaries. They are dead now. Did he make it in?" The Shaman asked, mixing up a bowl of leaves and grinding them into a paste. Sandy blushed, and shook her head. "Good. Mamlambo doesn't like his women to have been with anyone." Sandy's heart dropped. She didn't know what he had planned for her.
She pushed a strand of hair from the side of her face, and asked "What is Mamlambo?" |