CHAPTER 7:  GROWING UP

	Metutu's apology must have worked.  As days passed into weeks, and 
weeks into months, he began to see more of Asumini.  From time to time 
he would hear strange stories about her father, but he discounted them 
because of his feelings for her.
	They had an on-again off-again dating relationship.  Usually when 
it was off-again, he had tried to impress her with some new skill.  He 
almost always failed to do so, for she was very well educated where few 
mandrill females are.  The frustrations she heaped on his struggling 
male vanity were actually part of her allure to him.  With each new 
failure, she became more desirable, and if he couldn't impress her with 
athletic ability or wit, he would pursue more intellectual goals.  This 
would prove to be more of a natural strength for him.
	Once he came over to show off what he'd memorized of the Miracle 
Flower Saga.  Because she knew the parts better, she ended up correcting 
him periodically.  It made it difficult for him because the more 
frustrated he became, the more he forgot.  It built on itself.
	For a while he was upset, but he grudgingly admired her abilities.  
He settled back to watch her perform, and paid careful attention.
	As she recited verse, her hand gestures melted one into the other 
with a grace and beauty that made the gods take notice:

		Many days the journey lasted
		As the sunset dies on nightfall
		And the nightfall flees from sunrise
		Ever dancing in the heavens
		Sun and moon would count the hours

		Hearts grew weary, hope was waning
		And their feet grew tired of walking
		Yet so steadfast was their leader
		And his countenance unchanging
		That they dared not disappoint him

		Great Numinu flowed before them
		Guarding with her sacred waters
		All approaches to the garden
		Where the magic blossoms flourished
		Lest a thief should steal their beauty

	She stopped and looked at Metutu's rapt stare.  "Are you all 
right?  Was I doing something wrong?"
	"Nothing wrong," he said slowly.  "You were a goddess speaking 
words as smooth and beautiful as water flowing over stones.  They should 
let you perform for the council."
	"Are you sure it's my voice you like?"
	"Well," he said hesitantly.  "You have special kind of presence 
too.  Your gestures are beautiful.  Everything about you is beautiful.  
Uh, you know what I mean."
	"I know what you mean," she said, giving him a kiss on the cheek.  
"You're very sweet.  But if you think that's something, you should hear 
me do the leonine ceremony of rising over.  I did that for my Auntie 
Asumini when she died last moon."
	"You did?"  He'd never heard of a female doing ceremonies before.  
"That lioness we've always heard about--so she was real?"
	"I told you I had a lioness as an Auntie.  A second mother was 
more like it."
	"I'm sorry about your loss.  I know you loved her, and it's sad 
that you'll never see her again."
	"Don't be too sorry, `cause when I die, she will be waiting for 
me.  Till then, she is in here."  She put her hand over her heart.  
"Sometimes she's out there too!  There is no difference in the way God 
treats us when we die.  I follow Aiheu, and believe that all animals are 
brothers and sisters."
	Metutu was shocked.  "You're an Aiheuist?  I always thought you 
were one of us."
	"One of you?"  She smiled.  "Everyone is one of you and one of me.  
We are all one large family.  All that divides us is our opinion, but no 
opinion alters the truth  So there is no us and them except in the 
mind."
	"I guess so," he said, dubiously.  "Did your Aunt Asumini teach 
you that?"
	"I have many good friends who happen to be lionesses."
	"Pfff!  Any lions?"
	"Only a couple of times ever saw a grown lion, and didn't get to 
say much, but their manes are so wonderful.  You know, I have a secret 
desire to hold one around the neck and roll in his mane."
	"You would disappear down his throat in seconds.  Maybe two whole 
bites, if he didn't swallow you whole."
	"Have you forgotten the leopardess so quickly?  Didn't you see how 
she did not bite when her honor dictated it?  Teeth and claws are  
sharp, but much more of them is soft and furry."  She sat back against a 
tree trunk.  "They teach you that God is just a bigger one of us.  As if 
one of us could hope to become like Him by simply learning the right 
spells and overcoming mortality.  No.  There is a fairness and kindness 
in Him that is a goal to strive for, but which we could never reach."
	"What does Aiheu look like?"
	"Everything and nothing at the same time."
	"Now that makes NO SENSE."
	"Oh?  Unlike those who follow the great ape Pishtim, we believe 
Aiheu is aware of all things and all peoples.  Otherwise, how could he 
hear our prayers?  So he must not be an old ape, or he would only be one 
place at a time.  The wind is real, but you don't see it's shape.  You 
know it's there because you feel its effects.  And if he is not an old 
ape, than we apes have no basic superiority unless we choose to ACT 
superior.  And that does not come through trickery or negotiation.  It 
comes through compassion, generosity, and honesty.  The traits that make 
us noble make us more like God.  But there are others besides us who 
have those traits, therefore all animals must be brothers and free to 
please the gods.  And greatness is a matter of the heart, not an 
accident of birth."
	"That's a really nice philosophy.  You're as clever as Little 
Brother Chako!"
	"I hope not!  Little Brother Chako was a rogue, someone who did 
not honor his promises.  How we could pick someone like that for a hero 
is a slap in the faces of the gods.  When I ask you to make a promise, I 
expect you to keep it.  When you do, I look up to you.  Those who treat 
me honestly are my brothers and sisters, not Little Brother Chako."
	Metutu looked at her in shock, but not outrage.  "I bet you spend 
a lot of time just thinking."
	"You should give it a try, Metutu."
	"As if I never do?"
	"I don't mean it that way.  It's just that the problem with 
mandrill philosophy is that they teach you WHAT to think, not HOW to 
think.  We're not supposed to question authority."
	"Whoa!  We'll have to continue this talk sometime."  Metutu went 
home.  He was somewhat thoughtful, for she had made many good points.  
"All animals are brothers," he said to himself.  "Even the leopardess 
and I."
	When he reached his home, old Wajoli was waiting for him with a 
bowl.  "Here, Master Metutu, your favorite dish.  Elephant Stew."
	Metutu took the bowl and smelled it.  "Ah, fresh and sweet.  You 
did well."
	Metutu noticed how Wajoli's eyes followed the bowl.  "Have you 
eaten yet?"
	"No sir.  I was running late, so I came straight over here.  I'll 
take care of you first.  When you are finished, if you don't need me 
more, I'd like to go scrounge something up."
	"I see."  Metutu held out the bowl.  "Scrounge this up.  I'll get 
something from the orchard."
	"Oh, no sir!  If your father found out, he wouldn't like that."
	"IF he found out.  But you can go hide behind those trees."
	"Is it not to your liking?"
	"It's fine.  But you know something, Wajoli?  If you would be like 
the gods, you must practice compassion, generosity and honesty.  You've 
always done right by me.  Now I'm going to do right by you."  He handed 
the bowl to Wajoli and gave him a little pat.  "Enjoy, old friend."
	"I will," he said.  "I'll enjoy knowing you are the next Chief, 
even if I don't live to see it."
	A smile spread across Metutu's face.  He headed for the orchard 
with a great joy in his heart that was almost too great for words.  
"Yes!  I feel more godlike already!"



CHAPTER 8: THE GREAT OUTDOORS

	Metutu yawned, scratching his back languidly as he lay sprawled 
upon a branch high in the tall tree that Makedde had made his home in.  
Initially, the move had been exciting.  Metutu had thought that he would 
enjoy the independence from his parents, but after only a few days, he 
had begun to miss the comforts of home already.  He had napped fitfully 
the first night there, awakening abruptly to see the stars dimming in 
the early morning light.  He had arisen eagerly, sitting up and 
stretching...how disappointed he was to find no mother there with a bowl 
of elephant stew to greet him!  No Wajoli, no Wandani, no Asumini.  Only 
his brother there to greet him.
	Makedde picked up his staff, twirling it playfully.  "I usually go 
for a walk in the mornings.  Would you like to come?"
	"Yes!"
	The two descended carefully, pausing at the base of the tree.  
Makedde peered about thoughtfully, then looked at Metutu.  "Which way 
shall we go?"
	"Uh...that way, I guess."  Metutu pointed.
	"Why go that way?"
	Metutu frowned.  "I don't know.  Is there something wrong?"
	"Should there be?" Makedde asked, looking at him intently.
	"Is there a swamp out that way?  Mosquitoes?  Snakes??"
	"What do YOU think," Makedde said with a serious nod and a wink.  
"Use your powers of observation."
	He stared in the general direction.  "Well I...."  Metutu stopped, 
looked at the hint of a smile on Makedde's face, and shoved him.  "You 
dirty lizard you!  Gods, I hate it when you do that!"
	Makedde laughed aloud.  "I can't help it!  You should have seen 
your face!"  He patted Metutu's shoulder.  "Come on.  I'll take you on 
my usual route."
	They set off at a leisurely pace, enjoying the cool breeze, and 
feeling the morning sun warm their back.  Makedde's home lay at the 
border between the jungle and savanna, and Metutu stared at the new 
world just waiting to be explored.  Few trees dotted the greenish gold 
sea of grass which was swept with waves as the winds played tag among 
the acacias.  Small islands of scrub brush thrust their stubby crowns 
defiantly towards the sky.  Here and there the thorny acacias had begun 
to put in an appearance, and in the distance, Metutu saw what looked 
like the trunk of a dead tree, pointing heavenward like an accusing 
finger!
	His pulse pounded in his ears, and he suddenly realized he had 
been holding his breath. Exhaling with a rush,  he laughed aloud in 
sheer delight.  "Gods, this is so beautiful!"
	Makedde smiled at him.  "Now you see why I live at the edge of the 
forest."
	"Father said it was because you were a hermit."
	The older mandrill burst out laughing.  "On the contrary.  I live 
here because I prefer EVERYONE'S company."
	"Huh?"
	"Come on, I'll show you around."  Makedde jumped lightly down to 
the bottom of a wadi and motioned to Metutu to follow.  Shrugging, the 
younger mandrill complied, following as his brother strolled slowly 
along the channel.
	"Metutu, if you limit your experiences, you limit your knowledge.  
Sometimes the wisest statement is a question.  Do you understand?"
	"Uh, I guess."
	Makedde smiled.  "Once there were three brothers.  One who knew, 
one who knew who knew, and one who knew nothing.  When the evil spirits 
came to the one who knew, the one who knew knew what to do.  The one who 
knew who knew what to do asked the one who knew and then he too knew 
what to do.  The one who knew nothing to do knew too late that he should 
have known who knew what he did not know."
	Metutu was busy counting on his fingers and whispering to himself.  
"Run that by me again?"
	Makedde laughed.  "Just remember this.  The path of wisdom begins 
with curiosity and ends with enlightenment."
	"Oh!"  Metutu smiled.
	Later the two paused under the shade of a thorny acacia to rest.  
Makedde glanced up at the sun, observing the orb's position in the sky.  
"My boy, it is highsun.  Why don't we sit down and eat lunch."
	"Whassa matter, you too old and tired to keep going?"  Metutu 
teased gently.  He tugged slightly at the beard jutting from his older 
brother's chin.  "Look at that.  Shot with gray already.  Tell us a 
story, Gramps!"
	Makedde chuckled lightly, tossing him a breadfruit with great 
dexterity.  "Young pup.  All right, eat your lunch and I will."
	Metutu grinned, forearms flexing as he tore the fruit in half and 
handed a piece back to his brother.  He bit deeply, enjoying the feeling 
of the juice running down his chin.  Wiping it away, he chewed slowly as 
Makedde began to speak.
	"A long time ago in the reign of the great king Ramalah-"
	"What kind of a name is that?"  Metutu laughed.  "Ramalah?  What 
was he, a gibbon?"
	Makedde frowned.  "Metutu, Ramalah was once the Lion King of the 
Pride Lands.  Over thirty generations ago, he and his ilk were absolute 
rulers of this land."
	Metutu stopped laughing immediately.  "The Lion King?  Really?"
	"Yes.  Their land is much smaller now, and lies far to the west."
	Metutu gazed across the land.  "Wow.  Do you think we'll see a 
lion?"
	"Doubtful.  They rarely venture this far out."  Makedde cleared 
his throat.  "Anyway, Ramalah's wife Chakula had given birth to twin 
sons, N'ga and Sufa.  Now the queen has many responsibilities, and so 
she must often leave her cubs in the care of another.  The queen's 
favorite baby-sitter was Alba, her younger sister."
	Makedde scratched his leg idly and smoothed the fur back into 
place.
	"One day, while N'ga and Sufa were being watched by Alba, they 
were caught in a cave-in."
	"What's that?"
	"You remember what Busara's home looks like?  The Chief Scribe?"
	"Yes."
	"Well, imagine what would happen if the roof fell in.  That's a 
cave-in."
	Metutu looked horrified.  "Gods, that's awful!  What happened?"
	"Well, the three lions were trapped in the cave.  One day passed, 
and then another.  N'ga and Sufa grew weak with hunger, for young cubs 
need milk, and Alba had none to give.  So she opened the veins in her 
foreleg and gave the two cubs her lifeblood, to sustain them until 
Chakula freed them several days later."
	"Oh, no!"  Metutu looked stricken.  "Did Alba die?"
	"Yes."
	"But why?  She didn't do anything wrong!"
	"She gave her life so that the cubs would live, brother.  And her 
sacrifice has never been forgotten, for the red flower of Alba, 'the 
blood of mercy,' is a shaman's most prized medicine."  Makedde 
stretched, then rose, picking up his staff.  "Time to get on."
	As Makedde walked back slowly, he wondered at the deep silence 
from his young brother.  "Maybe I pushed it too far too fast," he 
fretted.  "He may not be ready."
	"Makedde?"
	He turned to look at Metutu.
	"I was talking with Asumini the other day."
	"Which day?"  Makedde chuckled.  "You talk with her quite often, 
brother."
	Metutu socked him in the arm lightly.  "I'm serious, Makedde!"
	"OK.  What about?"
	"She told me...well...'Greatness is a matter of the heart, not an 
accident of birth.'"
	Makedde's heart sang as he fought to keep still.  "That's very 
true."
	"You think so?"  Metutu smiled, relieved.  "I think Alba was 
pretty great, don't you?"
	"Indeed."
	"I mean, I bet Mom would have done that for us."
	Makedde smiled.  "I know she would have.  Love is the source of 
all greatness."  Makedde resumed walking, Metutu alongside.  "There are 
countless others just like her.  Her sacrifice is an example.  Others 
may not give up as much as she, but their gifts are never ignored by 
Aiheu."
	Metutu looked at him wonderingly.  "I thought you sounded like 
Asumini.  You believe in Him too?"
	The mandrill smiled openly.  "I do.  His teachings are not those 
of trickery and deceit, but love and trust.  These are the things I 
would share with you, brother.  And they are all I ask in return."  
	"Then I guess I believe in Aiheu."
	Makedde hugged his brother roughly, then patted his shoulder.  "I 
see promise in you, my brother.  Great things lie within your grasp."
	Makedde finally stopped.  "Ah!  Here we are."
	Metutu looked ahead, seeing the dead tree they had sighted this 
morning.  "So what?  It's a tree."
	"Nope.  Look closer."  The two moved up next to the tall spire.  
Metutu ran a hand along it and was surprised to see small grains flake 
away at his touch.  "Why, it's made of dirt!"  He looked around, warily.
"What made this?"
	"Look down."
	Metutu glanced down and saw tiny forms scurrying madly at their 
feet.  "Ugh!  Termites!  They made this?"
	"Indeed."  Makedde knelt and scooped a handful up, watching them 
crawl frantically about on his palm.  "Tiniest of creatures, yet they 
build homes as hard as rock, and as tall as trees.  They are the epitome 
of hard work, Metutu.  But too much is just as bad as not enough."
	"Hmm?"
	Makedde knelt and gently brushed the insects off.  "They toil all 
their lives, yet take no time to enjoy the beauty of the earth, and the 
gifts that Aiheu has blessed us with.  To find happiness, Metutu, you 
must find some kind of middle ground."  Makedde turned away and resumed 
walking back the way they had came.
	They had only walked a short distance when Makedde paused.  "No, 
this will not do."
	"What's wrong?"
	"My brother, you follow me like the jackal pups follow their 
mother.  Roam if you like.  Stop and smell a flower.  Look at a cloud.  
Enjoy yourself, for goodness sake!"  Makedde laughed and ruffled 
Metutu's head roughly.
	"Cut it out!"  Metutu laughed, poking Makedde in the ribs.  The 
older mandrill yelped, falling back as Metutu tackled him playfully.  
The two rolled about in the grass, laughing and giggling wildly.  Tiring 
finally, they lay on their backs quietly, staring upward at the 
brilliant azure sky.
	"Look!  There goes a bird!"
	"What?"  Metutu looked curiously.  "I don't see any birds, except 
for a vulture in that tree over there."
	"He probably thinks we're his dinner," Makedde chuckled.  "I'm 
happy to disappoint him.  No, I'm talking about that cloud up there.  
See it?  It looks like a little bird."
	Metutu stared hard.  "I don't get it."
	"See the end?  That's the beak.  And that part on top is a 
wing..."
	"Oh!" Metutu exclaimed.  "I see it!  I see it!"  He laughed 
delightedly.  "It does look like a bird!"  He peered about avidly, his 
eyes roving from spot to spot.  "Look!  There's a tortoise!"
	"Where?  Oh!  Yes, you're right!"
	"And look at that one!"  Metutu leaped up and ran a short 
distance.  "There's a hare!  And look at that one!"  He giggled.  "That 
one looks like old Umbogi from the council...see his potbelly?"
	"Oh gods, don't let him hear you say that!"  Makedde laughed.  "I 
see it, though, you're right!"
	Metutu pointed.  "Look!  That looks like a lion!"
	Makedde peered curiously.  "Where?"  He looked about, but couldn't 
see even the faintest wisp of cloud where Metutu was pointing.
	"Right there!"  Metutu laughed.  "It looks more like a lioness, 
actually.  But she's all white instead of golden."  He stared up 
dreamily, then giggled.  "She looks like she's smiling at me."
	Makedde looked again at the empty sky where Metutu was peering, 
then down to his brother.  His skin tingled as he looked at Metutu with 
renewed interest.  "Yes, I suppose she is, brother."


CHAPTER 9:  THE JOYS OF WORK

	The more Metutu found out about work, he realized that good 
feelings were a small part of every job.  That more often than not there 
were other feelings--weariness, perspiration, and sometimes boredom.  As 
he began helping his brother Makedde, he expected to feel as good as he 
did giving his dinner to Wajoli.  But after the initial burst of pride, 
he took a full dose of reality.  Metutu was not yet skilled, and so he 
was most useful doing hard labor, freeing up Makedde for his thriving 
medical practice.
	Campa root was a valuable resource in shamanic medicine.  It was 
also easy to recognize and almost indestructible.  This made gathering 
Campa a great way to break in a new apprentice.
	Metutu kept repeating to himself one of the verses that helped him 
remember what he was after:

			Three leaves out, and two leaves back,
			Leaves of green, and berries black;
			Good for your stomach, great for your skin,
			Keeps your hair from getting thin!
	
	After nearly three hours of pulling Campa, he had a very large 
stack of leaves to discard, and a precious small hoard of root tips.  It 
was almost more than he could bear to see how little of a gourd he could 
fill with the prize.
	Disgusted with himself and his job, Metutu headed back for lunch, 
half decided to quit.  He walked into the baobab.  "Brother, we need to 
talk."
	"Just a moment."  Makedde was busy with a small mandrill child.  
"Open your mouth, son."
	The boy gaped open.  "Ah, I see.  Is it sore around here?"
	"Ahh haa," the boy said.
	"But it isn't making you cough?"
	"Ahh ahh."
	"Fine.  You can close now."  Makedde smiled.  "It's a sore throat, 
and not serious at that.  We'll give you something for the discomfort, 
and maybe even a pinch of Tiko Root.  You like that?"
	"Yes sir!"
	Makedde rubbed the boy's head affectionately.  "Jamala, you make 
sure he takes three of these crushed in a cup of water every morning, 
highsun and evening for pain.  Two days worth should do it, but if it's 
still bothering him, you know where to find me."  He got a sprig of Tiko 
root and handed it to the boy.  "Aren't you growing like a weed!  Soon, 
I'll have to look up to see you eye to eye!"
	The boy laughed and chomped down on his Tiko root.
	When they were gone, Makedde looked to Metutu.  "I don't know how 
I'd get it all in without your help!"  He took the gourd.  "That's a lot 
of Campa root.   Are you sure that was empty when you got it?"
	"Yes, brother."
	"Impressive.  Now what did you want to talk with me about?"
	Metutu smiled shyly.  "I forgot.  I guess it wasn't that 
important."

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