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 Posted: Tue Jan 08, 2013 10:49 pm
Those days had passed many years ago, his children had become adults, and Mpaji lived his life in an easy sort of happiness that only a grandfather could have. He missed his children, especially those that had traveled long, but he lived many easy days with a caring other and did not know the meaning of the word alone.
They said, though, that those who smile the brightest have the darkest moments hidden in their souls. They are no longer afraid to laugh when life gives them the opportunity, so they laugh with all their joy and none of the shame of the supposedly fortunate beast.
Today, as last week, everything humored him. He had five grandchildren, the very spitting image of proud Firekin. One of them, certainly, would give her mother trouble. His daughter would have to keep a careful eye on her, and Mpaji laughed to think of the sort of chaos she might cause. What harm could a young cub do, besides? A wild child would be good for his daughter. It would give her something to do that was not work.
Speaking of work, and children. . .
Mpaji had found himself out on the sleeping sands. It was well before dawn. The old lion knew his son would be gone by the rise of the sun, so he had planned to come earlier than that. He was not hard to locate on the sands.
"Shunqa, my boy." The delightful laugh of a proud father about to crack a harmless joke. "You have slept in."
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Posted: Tue Jan 08, 2013 11:18 pm
Safe. They were safe.
He hadn't stayed long, as it was not his place nor his desire to interfere with the time his sister deserved with her mate. He imagined, for all he loved them, Veru adored them that much more. To be a father must be a fascinating, enriching thing. Even more difficult to explain away with mere words.
Though, he could think of a few to describe the squirmiest cub of them all: Loud, louder, noisy, and demanding. With a daughter like that and four others at her side, Shunqa didn't anticipate Seide wanting another set.
And him? Ha.
You needed a female for cubs, annnd...
Cough.
Moving on, Shunqa slept easy that night. He did not wake easy, though, for a specific reason.
Of the many things that had no suitable description, his relationship with Mpaji was yet another, perhaps the most bemusing of all. He loved his father, but he wasn't sure he liked him. And he wasn't sure if that was unfair or too lenient.
Shunqa had enough respect for tradition and the family unit to at least stand in his presence -- once he was awake enough. "Dad," he greeted, punctuated by a yawn. "I... guess I did."
They didn't have visits like this unless something triggered them. They hadn't for a while.
He could start:
"The firstborn is loud."
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Posted: Tue Jan 08, 2013 11:25 pm
A rumbling chuckle from the back of Mpaji's throat agreed with Shunqa. "Louder than your sister, certainly!" His exclamation was boistrous and a heavy paw clapped Shunqa on the shoulder.
"When you have children, they will all be loud." Children had a habit of being too much for their parents, and he could see his son with nothing more than the most gregarious litter of cubs that had ever graced the Firekin. The lack of a lioness did not seem to bother the great bulk of a lion, and he hummed lightly in the back of his throat.
It was a trick he had taken from Kaanga, for when she was in pleasant spirits, she vocalized it in many ways.
"It is before dawn, I need fresh air. I thought you should join me for a hunt. Like old times, hm?" He was too old to hunt every day now, so Mpaji had grown steadily closer to a life of retirement. There came a day, not long ago, when the antelope's feet were too fast and too sharp for Mpaji. However, he still had a few runs left in him, and any time with his son would be worth a few bruises and some aching joints.
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Posted: Wed Jan 09, 2013 12:00 am
In this case, old times really just meant old times; as in, they had not hunted together for quite a while. There was nothing enjoyable invested in those memories for Shunqa. They were as refreshing as getting a face full of water out here in the desert, except the water was ice cold and only served as an equally troublesome distraction of a different nature.
By adolescence, he was obsessed with questions that had no answers. They preyed upon him, ruining his sleep, defiling his ambitions, and in turn he preyed upon other creatures. He had thought once he might find what he needed "out there", but there was only sand, grass, trees, rocks, and the blood of his kills.
Having Mpaji and his unyielding cheer around on top of all that was merciless. His father had never said anything about it, which meant he didn't pick up on what his son wasn't saying or just didn't care. Neither were the better option.
Their last hunt, Shunqa had done poorly, very poorly. He'd been at his breaking point. Mpaji was happy as ever, all laughs and smiles and lighthearted commentary he had no right to. How could he act like that, Shunqa had wondered, when he had allowed so much to go on?
And yet, that entire time, he wanted to scream in his face. Tell him he wasn't happy. Tell him pay attention.
Years later, Shunqa the historian believed fully in their most favorite adage: History repeats itself.
"Sure, like old times." Shunqa didn't sound particularly thrilled with the idea, but when did he ever? This was just how he was and no one had any reason to think otherwise, or even think about him at all. Hell, this conversation had only come to pass because of Seide. It had nothing to do with him.
"Are you sure you're up for something like that?" He'd say yes, but Shunqa wished he'd say no.
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Posted: Wed Jan 09, 2013 12:13 am
The male lifted up one paw, raising his shoulder blade high as he stretched out his claws. Then, he repeated the same motion with his other leg, tendons and ligaments cracking and hissing in complaint.
"Ah, if I die you are strong enough to carry me back home." The large male had begun humming again. "Tell Kaanga I love her, and to bury me underneath the bird."
The bird--a strangely shaped rock--had sat on guard outside his and Kaanga's den for a long, long time. The children would have no memory of it not being there, and probably had not thought to ask about it, for Mpaji nor Kaanga examined it like it was unsual. It was a small token from many years past, and it held bittersweet memories. In truth, Mpaji did want to be buried beneath it. He hoped, though, that he would rest with his mate as well.
"You should make your sister hunt with you," he began again, as light-hearted as other. Then, a deep, booming laugh. "For that matter, if you can get your brother out of the den, all of Firekin owes you a debt." He meant, of course, Vutha. The one brother who had never amounted to anything and simply didn't care. It seemed Shunqa had sucked up all the guilt for him.
"Visit more. Your family may forget they love you!" It was, of course, completely untrue, at least from Mpaji's perspective. The old lion had nothing but love for his family, wherever they were. Perhaps he did not let the darker thoughts hold him down, but he did not forget about them, either.
He wished, his greatest wish, that he might see them all again before he died. Kaanga's other sons, he'd like to see them, too. His second wish, his darker wish, was that he never had to. No intelligent father, and certainly no son of once-slaves, truly believed life was a bowl of happiness served with clear water. It was simply unrealistic.
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Posted: Wed Jan 09, 2013 12:36 am
"Visit more. Your family may forget they love you!"
Shunqa never commented on that, just as he had let the subject of his future children slip by. He didn't scowl at these things. Instead, he acted as if they had never been said.
"Shula and I do hunt together," Shunqa pointed out, and for all he tried, he could only bury the offensive edge of his tone with partial effectiveness. After that, he was more triumphant keeping his voice tame.
Ignore it. Deal with it later. That was the first phase of his strategy when in the company of his father. The second was denying that "later" was always later still. And later still became eventually and that became whenever his temper at last erupted.
Mpaji had known Shunqa had done poorly their last hunt. What he didn't know -- what no one knew -- was the one after that he had damaged his prey so badly there was nothing left of it to eat.
"And Vutha is..." Shunqa opted out of finishing that. "Which way do you want to go?"
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Posted: Wed Jan 09, 2013 1:00 am
"Back to bed," Mpaji joked quietly.
The large male's eyes moved from his son and back to the great, barren landscape of the desert. As he looked, he made a sounds of decisions. Grunting when he didn't want to go a certain direction, and making a noise of higher pitch when he was debating.
Then, at random, he started off. "Let's have an adventure. That way."
The male broke briefly into a heavy, lumbering jog that made his slightly swollen gut sway to and fro. Very quickly, he determined that such a pace was best reserved for when he actually saw something worth hunting.
"It was good, what you did. I'm proud of you, son." There it was.
The white elephant was now stomping around.
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Posted: Wed Jan 09, 2013 1:22 am
Shunqa's pace was more leisurely than his father's. There was no need to hurry when Mpaji would be slowing down any second now.
Indeed, he did, and they found themselves side-by-side.
Adventurous had never been so much Shunqa's thing. More so than Vutha, less so than Seide. That newborn making a racket was her penance for being a troublesome cub herself. He wasn't sure what to make of her already squabbling with the white one. Had there been any sibling rivalry Seide was guilty of? He didn't think that --
Shunqa stopped. Not for long. A blink. Or a heartbeat. That was it.
Careful words asked in a careful way: "What are you talking about?"
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Posted: Wed Jan 09, 2013 1:26 am
Upendo'Mpaji twisted his head left and right as he spoke, "Oh, you know." The pause, and a shrug of his shoulders. "It's not everyday you agree to be a godfather."
To many, healthy cubs no less. His family, what was still in the Firekin, interacted with one another and worked together. It was as much as any father could hope for, and if the young generations grew up to be anything like their mother or their helpful brother, they would be good Firekin and good lions.
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Posted: Wed Jan 09, 2013 1:38 am
The elephant must have been white to be in the Firekin lands. Black or red would have met the standard, too. That's what made a lion worthy, according to them. Why not an elephant?
The cubs that resembled their mother and her oh-so-helpful brother would be good Firekin stock.
"I'd agree every day she asked me to," Shunqa said. At first, there was nothing to suggest anything was to come of this but idle chitchat. He had always swallowed his words until he vomited them up. "Someone should look out for them... Especially if there were huria."
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Posted: Wed Jan 09, 2013 1:49 am
Those pale blue eyes shifted left until they landed on his son. They did not leave the black pelt, even as they continued to walk. Mpaji had stopped humming.
"Hm," he said only, at first.
His gut wobbled behind his rib cage. The massive lion thought. "Huria children grow up no weaker than the rest." His daughters and sons had not. They had left, all in their own ways, most never to return.
Kaanga talked about them, and missed them. She had been delighted when Seide brought news of An, and he knew she was proud.
"Don't worry so much, son." A light bump of his shoulder into the other male. "You will forget that they are your happy, healthy, sister's sons and daughters. And then they will forget to be happy, too." Then, a large smile and that laugh of his. "Perhaps the one is not so happy." Huo, he meant. The white one who seemed almost identical to his father.
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Posted: Wed Jan 09, 2013 2:05 am
Shunqa had no smiles or laughs. He should have. For once, everything should have been worth smiling about. Why did he have to wake him up? Why did he have to make this something it didn't have to be? Worse, imply that this was normal?
This was ridiculous. Shoulder bumps and -- just -- stop.
How did father not see what was going on? All these years, and he still didn't hear it, did he?
I'm angry.
I'm angry at you.
Shunqa kept his eyes in front of him the entire time. He could tell you what order his siblings found mentors, what the weather had been like the day Seide first mentioned her cubs; he could recite the history of the pride and not miss a thing. To save his own life -- to save the life of the cubs that had led him here -- he would never remember in detail what was in front of him walking beside Mpaji. What he looked at, he didn't see.
Like father, like son.
"You're right," Shunqa said. His voice was a pitch higher than it should have been. "I should be more like you and not worry."
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Posted: Wed Jan 09, 2013 2:15 am
"I worry."
Mpaji's deep voice had become softer. It was not the deep rumble of a voice that carried, but the light airy quality of words spoken from the throat and not the chest.
The difference was that his son had not yet learned to accept what he could not change. Shunqa was the younger generation, and he still had time to worry. He had time to be happy, so he wasted it on worrying. Mpaji had worried. He had worried about Uzulu's children growing up to the be the vicious tyrants their father was. He'd tried to instill his good nature and proper thought in them, for every slave has dreams of having more effect on a slaver's son than the slaver himself.
He had worried for the slaves when they were born. He had worried for Ohahira. When Uzulu had gone, left her, he had worried for Kaanga.
Mpaji had made none of these things better.
"Some things," he began, but had to pause to take a breath. Mpaji paused in his whole body, his feet coming to a stop. "Some things you make worse when you try to change them, son." He regarded his offspring with a heavy heart for a moment. Worry was going to kill Shunqa, if he continued it so heavily, and that, well, it made Mpaji worry.
"Why don't we hunt, and we can talk about this after?"
Like father, like son.
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Posted: Wed Jan 09, 2013 2:38 am
Shunqa stopped the same time, down to the second, that his father did. He was ahead of him by then. All of this had to get out of his system somehow, and if not through words, then his paws would take the brunt of his anger.
When they froze, Shunqa didn't know what to do. He closed his eyes and lifted his head to inhale loudly, deeply, and he breathed away anything he'd had to say. There came a point where your heart beat so hard it physically hurt you. He'd always imagined, if that were to happen, it would be making a fool of himself in front of a pretty female.
But then he thought of the cubs they might have and what they might look like -- who they might look like.
Shunqa might never paint a picture of what was in front of him, but what was behind him... He turned all the way around, and while the eyes were off limits, he really did look at his father. All the markings and all the colors.
He turned back around, and casually enough to sting said, "I don't have anything to talk about."
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Posted: Wed Jan 09, 2013 2:43 am
Whether it was a mistake, or fortune, his father did not press him. He had never been the nosy, overworried parent. Children needed to find their own way, for better or worse. Mpaji would never raise a child that did not speak on its own.
Unfortunately, it seemed that perhaps they would not speak at all.
The lion watched his son move on, and made no motion to follow for a time. It was a strange sensation, to be outside of one's body, watching. Mpaji felt he was a bird.
Then, as surely as he had started this venture, that bird began to walk and it followed a lion in the shadow of the tips of a massive, glowing red sun.
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