Finally ships had gotten close to where they should be. Finally they did not crumble when the waves of the ocean struck their sides in a storm. Finally kiKongo had mastered the art of the ship, or so it would seemed, at least.
Sengo Mavete, a man from the southern coastal regions of kiKongo had sailed his entire life. When he came walking, you could practically feel his scent a mile away, not to mention smell it - and it was a strong one, one of palm wine and salt.
Sengo was not a large man, nor one of remarkable wit. In fact, his parents had often felt great shame over how poorly he did in school. And yet Sego Mavete would go down in kiKongolese history like no other man before him could boast to have. This tale is the account he himself gave of the journey that gave him this privileged place in the schoolchildren's books:
Mbanza-kikongo
After the king granted me his blessings and had an advisor direct me to the shipwrights of Mbanza-kikongo, my spirits were high. Yet, when I came to that shipyard they had directed me to, I was less than pleased with the poor state I found it in. Despite all the tales I had been told as a child, and all the stories of our adventurers, the greatest shipyard kiKongo possessed looked truly unfit to build the ship that the Manikikongo had "gifted" me.
Wood, of course, was in no short supply in our nation, yet the shipyard and the shipwrights were not building ships. In fact, there was a large stockyard of timber piled up, made into logs, and ready to become ships, that was being completely ignored.
I brought these shipwrights the slip the Manikikongo's advisor had given me, which stated in the beautiful handwriting of the royal scribe that I was to be given one of the Nganjas, the largest of the ships in our beloved empire. Yet the men smiled, and lifted their hands. They claimed they were incapable of making it, but to me it merely seemed they were unwilling.
So thus I realized that after Kanda Mbanana had come to power, the focus on shipwrighting and sailing had, to say the least, seriously faltered from the heart of this nation. My heart sank, and Mkana knows I would be a liar if I claimed I did not weep.
But, as all know, kiKongo is a land of opportunity, and as I sat there weeping, a wealthy mercantile shipping magnate was carried past me in a most magnificent carriage. He opened a latch on the side so he could see where the weeping sounds were coming from, and when he looked out he saw I, me, sitting there in a most magnificent Kanzu - something that naturally reflected my good status and close relationship to the Manikikongo, having after all met him on now two occasions.
The shipping magnate inquired why I wept, and I told him my tale. Touched, he himself took a handkerchief to the corners of his eyes, and said he could organize for a ship of royal quality for me. Thankful, as Mkana knows I should be, I thanked him numerous times, and he, being a humble and kind gentleman, said it was nothing.
I would later learn that this was Niemi Nzere, of the former Royal House, but that is merely a pedantic note for you as a reader to recollect of my gracious assister. He had a most grand Nganja constructed for me, larger than any other ship I had ever been witness to, and personally selected his top sailors from his fleet to accompany me. He had the ship filled with barrels upon barrels of Lyed and salted food, as well as a sizable amount of water and some guinea fowls that we could eat the flesh and eggs of.
Thus, in thanks to Mr. Nzere, whom I would now like to dedicate this tale to, I managed the trip chronicled here.
A Most Glorious Journey
For the motherland I traveled this distance, for the Manikikongo I wrote it down, and for my wife I returned from it. After four days of sailing southward along the coast we were in high spirits: our catch at sea was high, and when it had not been we could easily take a bit of food from our massive hoard. We sailed southward like this for a long time, and it was by far the most proving journey I had ever made - the southern winds were stronger and fiercer than the ones right by our coast, I can safely say.
Mr. Nzere had been careful to ensure that we had numerous flags that we could hoist while sailing, and for that I am more than thankful, because whenever we were forced to come to a foreign port or coast the natives scowled at us, clearly recalling the revolution and war they had fought against us kiKongolese half a century ago - of course, those that scowled the most were the old men and women, the young adults and children looked upon our ship in awe, never having seen anything quite like it before. Of course, neither had I, as I have already mentioned.
The sailing southward on this journey was not immediately difficult as such, but was instead difficult on the mind. There were many times during the day when we had too much time to think, and during the night there were powerful storms, robbing us of sleep - our minds were thus in constant exhaustion. I am thankful to Mkana for having survived this journey, for I realize that I cannot have been the only to have attempted it - many smaller and weaker ships had clearly wrecked what we would later recognize as the Skeleton Coast, as one could clearly see the skeletons of these ships on its' shore. We had of course been informed by other sailors of this dangerous area, which few had dared to attempt to cross, and thus stocked up on freshwater before sailing past it.
Thankfully, we managed. The Kalahari Kingdom, as we had called it, would soon, however, be found to not actually be the Kalahari Kingdom. What we kiKongolese had called "the Kalahari" was merely a northern fraction of it, and the folk to the south of the territory we had once conquered were far more peaceful and friendly to us. There was a great river in this territory, which we beached on and rested by for a week, and ate produce among the natives at. This I can recall as a prosperous and good time, and one filled with memories that I shall always cherish of these folk, despite our short stay here.
The next portion of our journey would prove to be the most difficult, while also being the very end of the journey. This would be the one that would bring me and the crew fame, and would be what would found the later Mbanza-Kap, the greatest and southernmost city of the world.
Rounding the Kap
There have since my journey arisen many tales and myths of wild sailors, such as that of the Flying Khoekhoe. I cannot say that I can attest to these myths' truthfulness, but what I can is state that their existence in the Kap would not astonish me. The Kap is perhaps the most dangerous part of a sailor's journey, or it was when there was no city there and no groups prepared to help sailors and shipwrecked there.
When we came south of the great desert, we met a mountainous, apparently fertile, and strangely still dry coast. We landed here a few times, and the natives appeared to be similar to those in the desert to the north, though these had more interesting customs, enjoying heated herbal drinks, which I naturally must attest to is quite delicious. I brought some of these plants with me to kiKongo, but sadly they all died in the humidity, and so we are incapable of growing them for our own consumption here.
But back to the Kap. Coming southward of these mountains, the water became wilder, colder and crueler. The winds matched this change, and on three occasions did our sails fail us, and had to be repaired. Thankfully the same did not happen to the masts, and for that I am eternally thankful to Mkana.
The waters whirled on this land, and when we finally did hit the Kap Lethemba Elihle (Cape of Good Hope in a Xhosa-kiKongo fusion), we did it in the worst possible manner: in the middle of a storm. We sailed a fair bit from the coast, to prevent us from beaching, but the rowers found it difficult to maneuver. As the waves rose and sunk, as did the hearts in our chest, and I could have sworn it was at one point in my throat, attempting to strangle me.
But our ship was solid, made of the highest grade wood, and we trusted it would not collapse on us: and if the ship would not ensure this, Mkana would. I commanded my first mate to lead us into the sound that appeared past what is today known as the Kap-Indawo (Cape Point, kiKongo-Xhosa), so that it may, God-spirit willing, protect us from the storm.
He did as I instructed, and soon we were in this coast. In the night I believe I heard a scream, and despite the darkness of the thunderous sky, and that sky's blocking of the sun, when the lighting lit up our surroundings I saw what had once been a Kanzu with blood coloring its' surroundings: this, we would later find, was our first encounter with the man-eating Great White Sharks of the Kap.
But we sailed onwards, and our ship had been secured (planks had been nailed into the areas of the ship we were uncertain would hold: to this day I am uncertain if it was necessary, but one can never trust luck), and we were all at our posts. The barrels rolled around on and under deck, I have never feared for my life as I did on that day hearing those pieces of wood below me knock together.
But we persevered. We made it into that bay, and, in thanks to the rattling and crackling thunder that brought lighting that lit up the sea, we could see the reefs by the coast, so we could know not to collide with these. We sailed past this area instead, and made anchorage in an adjacent bay. When the storms stopped, we decided it be better to explore this land, and I naturally had to map where we were anyway, so went up on deck with my Kamal and decided to measure - and certainly, I was shocked, for I found that we had not gone further south.
Mbanza-Kap
Mbanza-Kap was thus founded. There were already natives here, but they had very rudimentary homes and did not at all appear prepared to wage war with us - instead, they graciously offered us food, among other things the flesh of a queer beast, which rumor has it that the Obibo of the North also have. It tasted somewhat stale, but was acceptable, and certainly welcome - we were not at all close to running out of food, but it is better to avoid running out of it than to abuse it for no reason.
Of course this was a time for celebration, and so we decided to share the food we had left with the natives. We lived here for a few years, sailing a bit further east to ensure we had truly made the south-ward point, but there was no arguing - we had made it. We built homes here in the kiKongolese style: large, solid homes of stone, unlike anything the natives had seen, it appeared (for they were a nomadic breed of folk). We set up a tutoring class, to teach them some basic mathematics and kiKongolese, and in the two years some of them became fairly good in our tongue, though spoke it with a very thick accent. Nonetheless, a few of these tutored men expressed an interest in traveling with us back to kiKongo.
This was just as well, because a few of our sailors had settled down in the area, and begun growing the kiKongolese crops that would grow here, here. Thus we decided it would be a good idea, and we began preparation to depart. This preparation would proceed to take three months, during which the ship was fixed, using the tools we had brought with us, and food was prepared, largely featuring the dried fruits and vegetables of our comrades, as well the salted meat of the queer game we could hunt in the area, as well as the moo-ing beasts the natives mastered.
We taught the natives numerous other crafts, most notably how to have elephants drag the stone and timber used for construction to the areas it was needed. Mbanza-Kap thus truly began prospering, with the natives, whom called themselves either Khoekhoe (as the people we are familiar with, being to our south) or Xhosa, people being as dark in skin as those of us who have no Pygmy blood, but speaking in a clickety-click fashion, not unlike the Khoekhoe.
Education was of course set up here, and most of these people would soon learn to read and write in kiKongolese, and increasingly more would do so as missionaries of Mkana and representatives of the Manikikongo reached the area.
We had the entire province mapped to the best of our ability, before we set off: the timber was of the local kind, either being fruit trees or being massive, glorious kinds of Baobab or Acacia. It was strong, anyway, and we trusted it. While we had at first struggled to find a way to produce more nails here, the natives did use metal, and were glad to show us some deposits, as well as give us some unrefined ore: dragged to us, of course, by the use of an elephant (no less: they truly enjoyed those large wonders).
We then set off. It was a sorrowful and sad departure: after all, we could not know if we would survive at all. But, of course, you know we did. I have already chronicled the trip one way, and so I feel no obligation to do it the opposite way. The trip was largely the same, you see.
When we came back to kiKongo, I was given a private audience with the Manikikongo, during which I explained the state of the port. He informed me he would look into it, and that he felt great shame over not being able to offer me the same, as the head of this nation, as the business magnate could. I stated that I understood: after all, it was well known and recorded that their Kandas had different values. The Manikikongo insisted I lead another expedition southward, and if these locals were truly open to our customs, that I bring an entire shipment of monks, nuns and teachers, which of course, I did, gladly.
Mbanza-Kap was thus given the full protection of our kingdom, and the natives began to understand and speak kiKongolese. It was a proud day for me, not only because of what this trip achieved for kiKongo, but because of what our kingdom did for me and those natives in so far-off lands.
As you all know, I am now, as those sailors, a permanent resident of Mbanza-Kap, along with my wife and my darling children. I write this book so that you may also one day want to long for the Kap, and that you, too, can come to it and help us. It is a different land, and things grow differently here: crops that cannot grow in our forest can grow on these plains.
I have had a home erected in the bay where I first landed, and it is now one of hundreds. Mbanza-Kap is, of all the cities I have visited, the grandest: perhaps not in size, but in splendor and glory, certainly. When the day comes that I shall die, I shall die in these southern lands. And what is more: because this land is so different from our own, the treasures here are wholly different. Come to the Kap and find yourself touched by the good hope here: come to the frontier, and you may be rich.
'
This is just kiKongo finally using their Big Ships for something, I'm not discovering anything (beyond the Cape of Good Hope). The city founded is pretty much Cape Town.
Submitted May 29, 2018 at 05:29PM by The_Dankest_Singed https://ift.tt/2kC4nCl
No comments:
Post a Comment