PROLOGUE

			"The righteous are bold as a lion."

				        ---  Proverbs 28:1 

	Early one morning Busara, a young Mandrill shaman, was headed far 
afield to gather Tiko root.  It was scarce and very valuable, but he 
knew some secret places to gather it easily.
	Since his income relied on a secret, he was careful not to be 
followed.  He only told his wife where the mint grew, and he was careful 
never to take the same route twice.
	This day, he dared to ford the tall savanna grass.  He was 
surrounded by golden wands that screened his enemies but shifted noisily 
around him and crackled under his feet.  He was very nervous, and felt 
like he was being watched.  He stopped and listened carefully, glancing 
about for signs of watchful eyes.
	He spotted a lioness in the grass and gasped.  For a heart-
stopping moment, he sized up his situation.  She had seen him and was 
watching his every movement.  He began to tremble violently.
	He thought about walking quietly away, but knew it would probably 
trigger a spring and certain death.  The moment he ran, she would 
pursue.  "Great Pishtim," he thought, "hear my prayers.  If I must die 
today, gather up my soul.  But please don't let me die!"
	But he then saw the ugly red gash on her shoulder.  No one hunted 
cape buffalo without risk: she had gambled and lost.  She would not 
spring on him.  In fact, she was the one who was afraid.
	Relieved, he took in a deep breath and slowly let it out.  The air 
felt good, venting the fear from his lungs.  He started to walk off, 
still a little trembly in the limbs.  He thought about his wife and home 
that had for a moment seemed forever lost.  "Once I get home, I'm going 
to kiss that girl!"  He would also make an offering to Pishtim, and 
remember to pray for that poor lioness--may her suffering be cut short.
	He tried to block out her pained expression.  It would not be 
easy, for Busara was a healer and compassion was his way to worship God.  
Once when he was a child his father had taken in a sick leopard cub.  
For three agonizing days and nights, he watched as one formula after 
another failed to satisfy her needs.  Finally with a faint cry, she died 
of starvation in his arms.  Somehow at that moment it did not matter 
that leopards eat mandrills.  Busara wept and held the still-warm body 
until it was cool.  It was his first experience with death, but 
certainly not his last.  He knew that death was a part of life, and he 
knew he was not responsible for the wound that brought down the once 
mighty lioness.  Still each death took a small chunk from his soul, and 
he would bleed inside.  Many old wounds were reopening.
	"I will pray for her," he said.  "There is nothing more that I can 
do.  She is dying, and yet she could kill me too."
	He kept walking.  There was Tiko root to gather.  He had a wife to 
support and herbs to trade for.  After all, he had devoted his life to 
healing the sick.  If he threw away his life on this lioness, many would 
die on some future day.  There was simply nothing he could do!
	"Pishtim, take care of her.  Shorten her suffering.  Take pity on 
her."  The fearful eyes and the ugly wound haunted him.  How that must 
hurt!  How pained and thirsty she must be, panting away her last 
moisture, watching her life ebb away in a red river of death.  "There's 
nothing I can do!"
	He was nearly to the patch, and maybe work would take his mind off 
of her.  But something inside him grew sick--the kind of sickness even 
Tiko root cannot dispel.  He tried to walk forward, but he felt himself 
being dragged back.  "If I were alone, and did not have a wife, I would 
go back.  But I must consider Kima's welfare."
	He stopped.  He knew that a compassionate husband left home, but a 
different husband would return if he could abandon that creature to a 
slow death.  He may look the same as the old Busara, but inside he would 
be more cynical and less caring.  He did not like the person he was in 
danger of becoming.
	Against his common sense, he turned back.  "I'm going to regret 
this."
	She greeted his arrival with a snarl that made the hair on the 
back of his neck stand on end.  "Go away!  Buzz off, ape!"
	He stared at the shoulder.  Clearly, she could not walk well, if 
at all.
	"I said beat it!  You think you can throw sticks and stones at me?  
You think you're really funny??  I'll make you laugh till you beg death 
to release you!"
	Busara just stood there staring, tears in his eyes and his chin 
beginning to quiver.  Despite her spirit, she was obviously afraid and 
in deep anguish.  He took a gourd from his staff.  "There is an artery 
just under the skin on my throat," he said calmly, drawing a line with 
his finger.  "If you rake me there, I will die in two minutes, maybe 
three and you won't have to die alone."
	The lioness was surprised by his answer.  "You're very brave--or 
very stupid."
	Busara reached in the gourd and took some moistened herbs.  "Lie 
still."  He started to put the herbs on the wound when a paw swept out 
and struck his hand.  Busara moaned and clutched his bleeding hand.  No 
doubt she expected him to run.  Her expression changed from anger to 
surprise.
	Without unkind words he gathered up the scattered herbs from the 
grass.  Setting the example by putting a small dose on his own hand, he 
said, "I mean you no harm.  A little more still, if you please."
	Patiently, but trembling, he reached toward the wound.  "This 
won't hurt a bit--I promise."
	"What is that stuff?"
	"It will relieve your pain."
	"It looks like weeds to me."
	"It can save you."  He reached for her jaw and before she knew 
what to expect he slipped his other hand in her mouth.  Her eyes turned 
to stare at him.  "Consider it our agreement.  If I hurt you, bite it 
off."
	Despite her misgivings, she held still and let him place the 
poultice on the wound.  It did not pain her, so she even let him poke 
and prod around the wound, then massage the area to restore circulation.  
	She sighed with relief and let go of his hand.  "That does feel 
better," she said.  "I have been stoned by monkeys before.  I didn't 
know they could be kind."
	He looked into the large, beautiful eyes of the lioness.  "Anyone 
can be kind."
	She looked back.  "You're crying, aren't you?"
	"The Bedango makes my eyes water."  He wiped his eyes and got 
another gourd.  "Here, drink this water."
	Slowly and carefully he poured its contents into her mouth.  Some 
of it spilled, but enough made it into her parched throat to bring a 
smile of relief.  "The gods must have sent you.  What is your name?"
	"Busara."
	"`Teacher.'  That is a good name.  I am Asumini."
	"That means `jasmine.'  A delicate flower."  He looked at his cut 
hand and glanced at her injured but still powerful arm.  With a smile of 
amusement, he harvested grass, then raised her head and made a soft 
cushion.  "Asumini, as soon as you can walk we have to get you out of 
this sun.  I live in a cave nearby.  There you will be safe from the 
jealous eyes of night."
	"I can't stay here.  I can't eat fruit, and you're no hunter."
	"I'll scavenge."
	"You'll drive off the hyenas, eh?"  She looked at him wistfully.  
"I know I am not long for this world, but I will pray for you, Busara."
	"There must be someone that can help you," Busara said.  "Don't 
you have family or friends?"
	"My husband and my pride sisters," she said.  "If you would go to 
the west to Pride Rock, surely the gods would repay you someday.  As you 
walk, chant `Aiheu abamami,' so they will know you are a friend.  Tell 
them Asumini sent you."
	"I will find them."
	"It's a long trek."
	"It does not matter."  He reached down and stroked her face.  
"Don't worry.  This time death will not win.  I promise."
	Her tongue touched his hand.  "I won't forget you."
	"And I won't forget you."  Clearly it was not the Bedango that 
made his eyes water that time.
	Thus begun the `Peace of Asumini' which made Mandrills corban--
safe from harm--which is still honored in the Pride Lands to this day.


CHAPTER 1:  RAFIKI IS BORN

	The mandrill Neema was crying out in anguish as she brought her 
child into the world.  Her husband, Chief Kinara, had sat unruffled 
through many struggles with a calm smile.  Now he was clearly in 
distress listening the muffled moaning of his wife.  His sons Makedde 
and Makoko were trying to comfort him as best they could.
	"Bear down," the midwife said.  "It will hurt more, but it is much 
quicker.  Bear down."
	A piercing scream left no doubt it hurt.  "Oh gods!  Oh gods!  See 
me through!"
	The midwife said, "The more it hurts, the more you will love your 
child."
	"If I love him much more, it'll kill me!!"
	Even in her pain, she kept a little sense of humor.  But the chief 
was not amused.  He kept wringing his hands and pacing around.  "Why 
doesn't she hurry!"
	"She's doing the best she can," Makedde said.  "Some things can't 
be hurried."
	"That's it," said the midwife.  "Come on, Neema!  It's almost 
over!"
	Finally there was a cry that sounded more like a call of relief.  
And a few moments later came a shrill yip showed that a new voice was 
speaking.
	At long last the midwife came for the Chief.  The young sons were 
warned away for now.  "You'll get your chance.  Don't crowd the mother."
	Chief Kinara looked at Neema and the small moist bundle of fur and 
long limbs she held.  "Our son," she whispered.
	"Our son," he said, bending down to kiss Neema's perspiring brow.  
"You said you wanted a daughter this time.  Did you change your mind?"
	"I stick with what works.  You know that."
	He turned the small face to look at him.  With a slight shrug, he 
contemplated the somewhat plain but pleasant visage.  "Metutu," he said, 
for the child was no beauty but also was not ugly.  The midwife, not 
understanding, went outside and said, "Listen all!  Chief Kinara has a 
son.  By the will of the gods, Metutu!"
	Neema frowned at her husband.  "Now look what you've done."
	"It means one whose face does not lie."
	"It also means plain one."
	"He's the son of the chief.  They better not call him `plain one' 
if they know what's good for them!"  He bent down and looked into the 
child's eyes.
	"Oh look, he's smiling at me!"
	"It's probably gas," Neema said.
	"I tell you he's smiling," Kinara stressed.  "And well he might 
smile.  His life will be easy and free from pain, at least if I have any 
say over it."  He kissed the child.  "Welcome home, Metutu."



CHAPTER 2:  GROWING PAINS

	Metutu's first days at home were a series of pleasant experiences.  
Kinara's promise was being fulfilled, for the only hardships he'd ever 
known were in the stories of gods and heroes his mother used to tell.  
His every need was taken care of by his devoted mother and his trusted 
servants.
	When he turned three, the age where other young mandrills took on 
small chores, Metutu was told to keep a sharp eye on the servants and 
make sure they did not shirk their jobs.  Even then, there was no doubt 
he was being groomed for leadership, perhaps as the next chief.
	Metutu's brothers were much older.  They treated their young 
sibling with affection and gentleness, but they were interested in 
playmates more their own age that understood the rough, complex games of 
older boys.  So when Metutu wanted a playmate, Busara was careful to 
select someone about his age, a bright, polite youth from one of the 
powerful families on the council.  Wandani by his temperment and 
learning was the clear choice.  In addition, his parents were strongly 
loyal to Kinara's administration, so Wandani would never try to 
influence the Chief through his son.
	By the time they had coached Wandani on his duties, he knew the 
honor given him was balanced with the weight of responsibility he bore.  
The only remaining question was if Metutu would like him.  That was 
quickly settled to the joy of all--Metutu was delighted with him.
	It would be unkind to suggest that Wandani was only doing his job.  
Metutu was a gentle soul, much like his mother.  He didn't have the 
charm of his father, but he had no lack of compassion as far as his 
sheltered life would let him understand it.  Wandani quickly warmed to 
this, and it was expressed in the zealous way he carried out his job.
	Metutu knew that he was different from the others.  He knew that 
other children were not as privileged, and had to work harder.  He also 
knew that others, including Wandani, had a sort of beauty on the outside 
that he lacked.  Once Metutu asked him if he were really so plain, and 
Wandani was beside himself with passionate denials.  But Metutu knew he 
was no great prize, and he reaffirmed his belief by a quick glance at 
his reflection in the water.
	Wandani, in a moment of great maturity, told Metutu that his 
beauty was on the inside.  It was little comfort when Metutu took a 
great deal of ribbing about it from some the other youths.  They seized 
upon his name as a cruel taunt.  Still, he never forgot what Wandani 
said.  Like most young males, he was not overly demonstrative about his 
feelings toward his playmates.  But in his love for Wandani, he would 
often call him by the name he would come to bear himself: Rafiki 
Wandani, "my dearest friend Wandani."
	Most of the time Metutu played with Wandani and Asumini, the 
daughter of Chief Scribe Busara.  It was rumored that this Asumini was 
named after an old lioness that used to visit Busara's cave.
	Those two friends were his circle, and with his parents formed 
much of his world.  Kinara often wondered if it would be healthy for his 
young son, or if it would withdraw him from the world.  If ANYTHING, an 
up and coming politician must be able to mix with people well.  There 
lay the problem: Kinara wanted him to like other people but not imitate 
them.  He would invite the "right" people to his home after coaching 
Metutu on what to say and how to behave.  Metutu would shyly stammer 
through the mandatory greetings when others came by, and then would more 
likely than not hide himself away at the first chance.  But around 
Wandani and Asumini he was bubbly, friendly, and even a little bit of a 
show-off.
	Every time Kinara would contemplate doing something to change his 
son into a small version of himself, Neema would quietly and subtly 
change his mind.  She was in her meek, quiet way the greatest power in 
the village.  And she liked Metutu just the way he was.  Her love for 
him was unconditional, and her only plan for him was to find happiness.
	On the other hand, a bully, named Duma, devoted himself to making 
Metutu's life miserable.  He was about Wandani's age, but otherwise he 
was everything Wandani was not--crude, unfair, and quick to say things 
that cut the spirit to the deep arteries.  His knack was in finding 
Metutu and Wandani when the other adults were not around.  And worse, he 
always had several of his own shiftless friends with him.  But when it 
comes to actually pounding Metutu into the ground, he would draw the 
line.  As loyal Wandani would quickly remind him, "You better not!  I'll 
go call the Chief and YOU'LL be sorry."
	The threat was a magic talisman, a mark of the great respect paid 
Kinara by young and old alike.  Metutu was glad for the safety, and he 
was also glad that he did not have to utter the shameful excuse himself.  
Still, bullies could come and go, but he would always be plain.  
Sometimes he would sneak away and cry until he was ready to face the 
world once more.

CHAPTER 3:  UNDER CONTROL

	"Four large stones he had tossed, and still the leopard came 
closer.  Little Brother Chako had only the small one left.  This he 
tossed at a nearby hornet's nest.  Kerplunk!  It fell onto the leopard's 
back, and with great anger the hornets came out to avenge this outrage.  
Only they directed their attack at the leopard who had to run for his 
life!  And Little Brother Chako laughed loudly.  `It's not how big the 
rock is, but how you throw it that counts!'"

                        -- "LITTLE BROTHER CHAKO", SECTION 10-B

	Metutu, Wandani and Asumini had been playing tag, but it 
eventually lost its edge and they sought new pursuits.
	"I know where there is this great tree with lots of vines," Metutu 
said.  "Come on."
	He headed off into the jungle where there were no paths.  "Where 
are we going?" Wandani asked.  "This place is dangerous!"
	"Dangerous?" Asumini said.  "I don't know about this."
	"Aw, don't be such a big mwana!  I've been here lots of times.  
It's safe!"
	Wandani threw up his hands.  "You've been sneaking away again.  
You know your dad would whack me good if he knew."
	"Yeah, but he doesn't know.  And he won't know if you don't tell 
him.  The way I look at it is this--he doesn't think we should do fun 
stuff till we're too old to have fun doing it.  I mean, how many times 
have you seen HIM swinging from a vine?"
	Wandani scratched his head.  "I still don't like it."  Still he 
came, and Asumini followed.  The subtle marks on tree trunks showed that 
Metutu HAD been that way at least once before and left his trail.  He 
skipped through the brush with such enthusiasm that before long they 
were all wondering just how good it could be to risk a spanking for 
twice.
	And then they found it.  Twin trees in the middle of a clearing 
with lots of vines that reached the ground.  Metutu pointed excitedly.  
"Check this out!"
	"Yeah!"  Wandani forgot about his unease.  He grabbed a vine, 
stepped back a few paces and pulled up his feet.  "Oh, this is so neat!"  
As he swung, he bellowed out, "Asante sana, squash banana!  We we nugu, 
mi mi apana!"
	Asumini sprang for another vine.  It easily held her weight, and 
she quickly climbed hand-over-hand to a low branch.  She put her knees 
over the branch and hung upside down.  "Hey Metutu, look!"
	"Don't do that!"  Metutu was beside himself.  "You could get 
killed!"
	"I'm fine.  You ought to--oh my gods!"
	"Are you all right??  Hold on, I'll get you!"
	"Leopard!  Get up, get up!!"
	For only a second, Metutu thought it might be a joke.  Then he 
thought better and sprang for a vine, quickly pulling himself up.  
Seconds later, a huge spotted cat lunged and touched the bottom of his 
foot with a swipe of the paw.  Metutu did not stop until he was safely 
in a crotch of the tree between two strong branches.  He glanced around 
for Wandani, but found him hanging from a branch about halfway up the 
tree.
	"You're lucky I saw her," Asumini said.  "You might have been 
killed."  She pulled herself upright and shivered.
	"Oh, I wasn't a'skeerd," Metutu said.  "I was just worried about 
you two.  You gotta let them know who's boss.  They smell fear, you 
know."
	"Really?" Wandani asked.
	"Sure.  Look at that ugly nose.  See, she's sniffing.  Sniffing 
for someone that's afraid, because she won't attack unless you're 
afraid.  She wouldn't dare tangle with me."
	"Well I'm not afraid," Wandani said, pulling a nut and tossing it 
down.  It fell with a plop beside the great cat, and she looked down at 
it with a huff.
	"Can't you hit a target that big?"  Metutu pulled a nut and 
chucked it at her.  With a sudden growl, the leopardess wheeled around 
and struck with her claws.  "Right on the behind!" Metutu said.  "This 
one will go right between the eyes."
	"I wouldn't do that if I were you," Asumini said.  "Big cats have 
a sense of pride.  If you make her mad, she'll come for you."
	"Yeah, right.  Don't worry about me, girl--I have the situation 
under control.
	"I'm telling you, this is a mistake."
	"Oh?  Who made you such an expert on big cats?"
	"I have a lioness for an Auntie, that's who."
	"Yeah?  No foolin?  Well I have an elephant for an Uncle!"  He 
pulled another nut and aimed carefully.  "Look out below!"
	Whap, it struck her right between the eyes making her wince.  "I 
told you to look out!"
	"That's enough, you half pints!"  Enraged, the leopardess began to 
climb the tree.  "I'm going to skin you alive, and every time you scream 
I'm going to laugh!"
      Her heavy but firm treads made the whole tree shake.  She was 
remarkably quick.  The three mandrill children had to make a dizzying 
leap into another tree.  Wandani charged across without a second's 
hesitation.  Asumini leaped and rather than landing with her feet 
grabbed a branch and swung for a moment by her arms.
	Metutu looked down at the ground far below.  It began to spiral 
and he lost his nerve.  Clutching his stomach, he moaned.  "I can't!"  
	The leopardess was working her way out onto the smaller branches.  
His precarious perch began to sway alarmingly.  He found the motivation, 
and with his heart practically in his throat he jumped!  For an awful 
couple of seconds he was airborne between tall trees.  He desperately 
grabbed for a branch.  Gotcha!
	He worked to get his feet on a good-sized branch.  Catching his 
breath, he works his way toward the trunk of the second tree and from 
there hoped to climb down on a vine to safety.
	The leopardess jumped, catching a limb with her forepaws.  After 
hanging for a second with her legs dangling, she felt the limb go 
`crack!'
	The concussion almost threw Metutu off of his perch.  She fell 
from branch to branch, and finally dropped to the ground, her fur 
looking scrubby and flecked with bits of green leaves.  Her dignity 
damaged, but otherwise intact, she licked her paws nonchalantly, then 
sniffed derisively.
	Metutu yelled down, "I'll tell my dad!"
	She shrugged.  "Maybe I'll skin him for raising a brat!"  At once 
she began to climb up the trunk.
	Asumini, her voice trembling, shouted down, "Forgive my friend.  
He was foolish to challenge your honor.  Indeed you are powerful, and 
your anger must be unstoppable.  I crawl before you, Mother of Death."
	The leopardess stopped.  "Your mother has raised you well.  I will 
spare you and the silent one."
	"I plead with you for the blood of mercy.  Remember who separates 
the milk from the mud.  May he separate your anger from your wisdom.  
He's only a child--if he is not killed, he will learn from this."  
Trembling in every limb, Asumini climbed down toward the great cat, her 
breath shallow and fast, and her heart pounding.  As she came closer, 
large hazel eyes watched her every move intently.  With less than an 
arm's length between her and the powerful huntress, she held out a 
trembling hand.
	The leopardess' nose came up very close so that Asumini could feel 
the breath on her hand.  Depending on the merits of her apology, one of 
two things could happen.  Asumini shut her eyes tightly, gasped for air, 
and prayed.
	The pink tongue shot out and licked her hand.  The leopardess 
purred appreciatively.  "My honor is satisfied.  On the off chance that 
you are right, I will spare him--for YOUR sake."
	The leopardess climbed down, but she was in no hurry to leave.  To 
live up to her reputation, she groomed her powerful, lithe body, 
sharpened her scimitar claws on the tree, and made a forced but 
effective yawn to display her arsenal of death.  Then she leisurely 
strolled off into the forest.
	A few minutes later Metutu, who had everything under control, 
could be talked into climbing down to join Wandani and Asumini.  The 
three friends then started home, scratched up and sore, and maybe a 
little bit wiser.  Metutu looked at Asumini and said, "I didn't know you 
liked me that much."
	She scowled and slapped his face with all her might.  "Don't you 
EVER do that to me again!"
	"I'm telling his dad!" Wandani said.
	"Be sure to tell him you started it!  The moment you snitch on me, 
I'm holding nothing back!"
	"You wouldn't tell him that, would you?"
	"Just try me."
	Metutu rubbed his cheek.  "I only meant `thank you.'"

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