The natives led Josh's party at spear point to their village. Despite their fear of what might happen to them soon, the three explorers couldn't help but feel curious about the culture of this isolated tribe, which had made its home in the heart of the African wilderness, away from the rest of the civilized world.
The Maasai's dwellings were dome-shaped straw huts, reinforced with dry mud. Although primitive in comparison to the architecture of London or New York, or even his cabin back in Colorado, Josh couldn't help but feel amazed by what these people had managed to build with crude tools fashioned out of wood, stone, and bone, without the use of steel or iron, or any of the tools or science of western civilization.
The trio was brought before an elderly man seated on a throne of sorts fashioned out of twisted branches and lined with antelope skins. Josh had to fight the urge not to laugh at the sight of the old man's – apparently, the king of the tribe – colored feather attire, which made him look like something out of a dress-up carnival. Chen's attention, however, was diverted toward the large fire in the center of the village, where the Maasai warriors were gathering around. Although it was of great relief to him to see no human remains roasting over it, implying that they weren't cannibals, their menacing expressions were enough to scare the living daylights out of him.
The old man rose from his chair, eyeing them with a piercing gaze so intense, Josh felt as if he could see down into the depths of his very soul. Finally, he spoke in an Eastern Nilotic language, leaving the explorers staring blankly back at him at their lack of understanding of the native language. Josh turned to Denzel.
"Alright then, Denzel, you said you know some Swahili from your grandparents. Time to translate!" The Negro zoologist sighed in exasperation, struggling to remember the brief teachings in his ancestral tongue his slave grandparents used to give him as a little boy.
"This isn't Swahili, it's Maasai," he said desperately. His knowledge of Swahili was scanty, to say the least, and as for Maasai, he might as well be comparing night with day.
"What's the difference?" asked Josh, feeling his own despair building. Without any means to communicate, they were as good as lost. And if the tribe thought they were trespassers hunting on their land, Josh had heard, they'd be lucky to walk out of here in one piece.
Denzel considered. He couldn't just magically pull a Maasai dictionary out of his hat and translate. On the other hand, Swahili was supposed to be the lingua franca of East Africa. What if they were lucky and someone here spoke it? Only one thing for it then. He spoke to the chief in a broken accent that sounded like total mambo-jumbo to Josh.
"Cross your fingers, fellas," Josh said, tensely.
The sound of familiar words spoken by that stranger instantly got the Chief's attention, as well as several of the spectators. Getting the point, he answered Denzel in the same tongue. After a few tense seconds, the zoologist was finally able to put the bits and pieces together.
"He's asking if we're spies."
"Spies?" asked Chen. "For who?"
"Slavers."
Hearing such a claim, Josh remembered how slavery, although largely abolished in the Western world, was still a common practice here in the heart of Africa, where there was very little law and too much corruption, driven by colonialism, to control it. No wonder these people were so suspicious of them. "Well then, you know what to tell him."
Denzel struggled to formulate the correct answer. It felt so long ago, the words faded in his mind. He wasn't even sure if this was the same hybrid at all. Finally, he muttered something in broken Swahili to the tribal king. The old man surveyed them for a few minutes, before finally replying in an accented, but understandable English, surprising Josh.
"I believe you are not spies," said the king, "Indeed, the Great Kings of the Past have seen this day long coming." Josh figured these Great Kings of the past were some godly protectors of this tribe, probably lions, judging by the carved lion head sitting atop a stone pedestal beside the king's throne.
"You know English?" Josh asked, curiously. The king nodded.
"Unlike many of my people, I have met white men who are not evil," he explained, "Long ago when I was a boy, I was caught and was to be sold as a slave. An English boy my age befriended me, taught me his tongue, and eventually helped me escape. King Lebo never forgets those who aid him."
"Your Majesty," Josh said, unsure of how to address this figure of authority in these parts, "My name is Joshua Cody. My companions, Denzel Baker, Chen Ling, and I are explorers, sent by Queen Victoria of England, to explore the African interior. We're looking for a place called the Pride Lands…" Several murmurs broke out among the crowd of spectators, making him realize that these natives were familiar with Burton's dreamland.
"You seek to meet King Simba, the son of the great King Mufasa, the sacred guardian of the Circle of Life?"
"If that's who we have to talk to, then yes," Josh answered. Lebo surveyed him and his companions for a few minutes, his piercing gaze making him feel almost like the old Maasai was trying to penetrate the depths of their very souls.
"Only those whose hearts truly feel for the pain and suffering of our people may venture into the Pride Lands or gaze upon the Guardians of the Circle of Life," he finally said.
Josh wanted to point out that they could be trusted but knew it wasn't good enough. These people had known nothing but oppression and often cruelty from the invading Europeans for generations, ever since the whites had come to steal their land and sell them into slavery. The Pride Lands were no doubt one of the last few remaining vestiges of their rapidly shrinking world, which they were not about to give up to a bunch of outsider explorers. Not unless they could prove their intentions were innocent, in some other way than cheap words…
Suddenly, an idea sprang to his mind. He remembered a story his old man used to tell him as a child, when, back in the 1850s, the late Samuel Cody had first met and befriended the Lacota Indians of the Wild West. In a gesture of good faith, he willingly surrendered his guns to the Chief, who would later become his friend, and even take in the orphaned younger Cody after old man Samuel died during the Civil War. Perhaps he could try the same approach with the Maasai?
'Burton sent us here as diplomats, to arrange a peace treaty between England and the natives,' he thought, 'Well, I guess this is as good a time as any to make that diplomacy.' Motioning to Denzel and Chen to follow his lead, he approached Lebo with his head bowed and placed his Lee Enfield rifle and its pouch of ammunition at the Maasai king's feet, his companions looking on doubtfully, obviously not too keen to part with their only firearm.
"King Lebo, we present this gift to you in hopes that this rifle will offer you protection from those horrible slavers who are terrorizing your people. We do this in good faith, so that we may earn your trust and that of your people, and thus be permitted to venture on to the Pride Lands should you deem us worthy of seeing that sacred land of yours."
Lebo picked up the rifle and ammunition. Although Josh had no idea whether he knew what the rifle was for, or how to use it, he could tell from the furious muttering all around that their gesture was having quite an effect on the natives' opinion of them. But in what way exactly?
After some long and tense waiting, one of Lebo's attendants came and told them the tribal elders were waiting for them. He led them into a nearby hut, where several men in tribal tunics made of different animal skins and bird feathers, sat around a fire as if preparing for some sort of ceremony. Could it be some kind of initiation ceremony, of admitting them into the tribe, before they could share the secret with them?
The elders gestured at the three explorers to join them, taking up the three empty places in the circle. Sitting cross-legged alongside the tribe's king addressed Josh's party again.
"Joshua Cody, Denzel Baker, and Chen Ling," he said, "My brothers and I have decided you are trustworthy and pure of heart, and that you're worthy of venturing into the sacred domain of the Pride Lands." The explorers looked at each other in delight at the news as Lebo continued, "To do this, you will have to be bestowed upon with the Gift of the Great Kings." Josh's mind flashed back to that strange gobbledygook the tribal king had been telling them earlier. These natives pointing the way to their most sacred land just like that seemed just too good to be true. What was the catch to all of this?
"King Lebo, you mentioned the Pride Lands are ruled by this sacred Guardian, this King Simba, did you say his name was?" he asked. Lebo nodded, "How do we know he'll receive us like you did, and not turn us away, or, worse still, kill us as trespassers?" But Lebo, who seemed to be thinking along the same lines, reassured him.
"Should King Simba decide you are not worthy of his trust, then you tell him that he once promised me, King Lebo, a favor, in return for saving his life once when I first met him as a banished prince long ago – banished by the same evil traitor who was, in turn, banished from this world by the Great Kings, but who may still rise again in another form to cast the Pride Lands back into darkness." Josh was wondering exactly under what circumstances Lebo and this Simba character had met, or who this 'evil traitor' had been. However, Lebo didn't elaborate any further and gestured at him to sit down.
Lebo picked up a leather pouch bearing some peculiar tribal markings – what looked like a series of painted faces, half human, half animal – and the ceremony began. The tribal elders knelt before the fire, chanting some sort of ritual incantations. Lebo opened up the pouch and brought out a handful of some strange-looking powder, which, to Josh, looked much like crushed berries mixed with powdered herbs of some description.
One of the attendants held a massive earthenware goblet, also painted with similar ritualistic tribal markings like the powder pouch, in front of Lebo; the Maasai chief, his fists filled with powder, waved his hands about over the goblet as if summoning some unseen spirits, letting the powder trickle into the water inside it. The mixture instantly bubbled and changed color, as if it were some highly reactive chemical formula. Within seconds it had turned the dark grayish shade of spoiled coconut milk.
The concoction ready, Lebo presented the large goblet to Josh, who grasped it firmly with both hands, staging under its weight. He took a whiff of the grayish liquid; it was unlike anything he had smelt before, in any of the Apache tribal rituals he used to attend as an adolescent. "What exactly is this?"
"The blood of Aja – a blessing from the Great Kings for your passage into the Pride Lands. To accept, you will have to recite the sacred oath of allegiance to nature, and drink." Under Lebo's direction, Josh held the goblet skywards, reciting the incantation Lebo quotes for him.
"I swear to the almighty Great Kings of the Past, that I accept their gift in exchange for my eternal loyalty to the creatures of nature, my brothers on earth. Spirits of our divine Mother, please grant me the gift of brotherhood with your fellow children."
Bringing the goblet up to his lips, Josh took a deep breath and gulped down a large sip of the brew. He cringed; it tasted foul, much like stale tea mixed with blood, but otherwise had no effect whatsoever. He then passed it to Denzel who repeated the oath and took his sip, followed by Chen. Then, just as the Chinaman put the empty goblet down, it happened.
Suddenly, Josh sunk to the floor, clutching his stomach in agony, feeling as if he had swallowed a tankard of acid. The burning sensation spread through all his organs, making him feel like he was being liquefied from the inside out. Beside him, the groaning and panting told him his companions weren't feeling too well either. Was this normal? Maybe he had somehow misunderstood Lebo, and let him feed them poison, to 'make them one with nature' through death?
Expecting his stomach lining to melt away at any second, expelling his now lava-hot innards and ending his misery, Josh collapsed on the dirt floor, lost in convulsions. The agonizing sensation spread up his spinal column and into his skull; his brain exploded with pain, like someone cutting into his head with a scalpel. But the torture didn't last long; the burning sensation in his skull turned to a state, floating-like sensation, his vision dissolving into shifting shades of different colors. Dazed and confused, Josh felt himself slip into a peaceful, dream-like state, much like a swing of that volcano moonshine bootleggers usually run around his native Texas, only with much stronger effects than even Thomas DeQuincy's opium.
Before he knew it, the ordeal was over; the three explorers lay curled up on the ground, panting, clammy, and disorientated, but otherwise unharmed…or so it seemed. Pulling himself out of a pool of his own sick, Josh glanced up at Lebo, who muttered apologetically, "A true blessing by the gods always carries the price of momentary pain." Josh hastily felt himself, amazed that he didn't have a single mark on him after being subjected to such hellish agony. What had the Maasai king done to them?
"You now carry the blessing of the Great Kings," Lebo continued, "You will find that now, you will have no trouble in speaking the tongue of the Great King Simba and his people – whether you still may have to prove yourselves to gain his trust and friendship depends entirely on how wisely you use this unique gift of the gods. Now go; and may the Great Kings of the Past be with you!"
Although Josh was utterly puzzled as to how this ceremony was in any way going to help them learn some unheard-of native language these Pride Landers used, he was utterly glad that, at least, they would be walking out of here on good terms with the Maasai. Europeans and Americans alike had terrorized these people for centuries; maybe this expedition might mean a start in making peace between the civilized world and this continent. Little did any of them realize at that point that this journey would take them on a much, much greater quest than that.
As they got their equipment together, preparing to set off again, Lebo gave them directions.
"Follow the setting sun on the horizon, and you shall reach the border of the Pride Lands within two days' time."
"How will we know when we've reached it?" Denzel asked. As far as the humans were concerned, the savannah looked the same for hundreds of miles. They could walk right past it and never even notice.
"Look for the sight of Pride Rock, the sacred home of the royal family," said Lebo, raising his left hand and sticking out his thumb and index fingers, making a sort of backward 'L' shape. "That's where you must present yourselves to King Simba and his people."
"The great stone palace," Josh said to the others. At least now they knew the real name of that place, as well as what it looked like.
With a final destination in mind, the three explorers departed the Massai village feeling hopeful, yet failing to notice the surrounding animals strangely no longer seemed weary of their presence, as if their human scent was no longer off-putting. Unbeknownst to them, a certain ceremonial drink they'd consumed not so long ago was acting, making some incredible transformations within their bodies, changing their stimuli to something no human being had ever experienced before in living history…