Then he spoke in a new voice--a clear, quiet voice,
that did not seem to be his own.
"Who am I?" he said. "I am the Molimo of the Bambatse Makalanga; I am
the ladder between them and Heaven; I sit on the topmost bough of
the tree under which they shelter, and there in the crest of the
tree Munwali speaks with me. What to you are winds, to me are voices
whispering in my spirit's ears. Once my forefathers were great kings,
they were Mambos of all the land, and that is still my name and dignity.
We lived in peace; we laboured, we did wrong to no man. Then you Zulu
savages came upon us from the south-east and your path was red with
blood. Year after year you robbed and you destroyed; you raided our
cattle, you murdered our men, you took our maidens and our children to
be your women and your slaves, until at length, of all this pit filled
with the corn of life, there is left but a little handful. And this you
say you will eat up also, lest it should fall into good ground and grow
again. I tell you that I think it will not be so; but whether or no that
happens, I have words for the ear of your king--a message for a message.
Say to him that thus speaks the wise old Molimo of Bambatse.
"I see him hunted like a wounded hyena through the rivers, in the deep
bush, and over the mountain.
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