Dance-of-the-Snake-Yvonne-Whittal Read online

  expected someone as important as Chief Cedric to be lying on a grass mat

  spread out on the floor of a square mud hut which had been partitioned off into

  four sections; the living quarters, kitchen, and presumably two bedrooms. It

  was primitive but clean, and

  the thatched roof kept the interior cool despite the heat outside.

  Chief Cedric had the appearance of a man who ate hearty meals and suffered

  the consequences gladly. He was totally overweight, and at that moment he was

  writhing on the floor in obvious agony. A black woman in a blue uniform stepped

  forward to introduce herself as Sister Ravele, the district nurse for that area, and

  together they approached the patient.

  'The pain, Doctor!' the Chief groaned, recognising Dane at once when he and

  Jessica kneeled down beside him. 'It is terrible, this pain.'

  'I can well imagine it is, Chief,' Dane announced bluntly, making a swift but

  thorough examination, and confirming the district nurse's diagnosis.

  'Who is this woman?' Chief Cedric asked Dane, his hand gesturing wearily

  towards Jessica. 'She is your wife?'

  'No, Chief,' Dane grinned, his mocking glance resting on Jessica. 'I'm not

  married, and this is Dr Neal who has come to assist me.'

  'A man must have a wife,' Chief Cedric grunted feverishly, clutching his

  stomach, but Dane and Jessica were already moving away from his side and

  gesturing the district nurse to follow them.

  'What are you going to do, Dane?' Jessica asked unnecessarily as she glanced

  up into his grim face.

  'We can't move him. There isn't time, and it would be a hellish journey for

  someone in his condition.'

  Jessica cast her glance into the room they had just left, but when she turned

  back to Dane there was something close to horror in her dark eyes. 'You're going

  to operate right here?'

  'I have no choice,' he said abruptly, then he turned towards Sister Ravele to

  issue brisk instructions. 'Get someone to help you. We need a table to

  accomodate the

  Chief, a lead-light, water to scrub in, and plenty of disinfectant.'

  Sister Ravele carried out Dane's instructions with surprising swiftness, while

  the Chief's brother provided the lead-light which he connected to the battery of

  his car. The Chief was a big man, and it took eight of them to . blanket-lift him

  on to the long, narrow table. Jessica and Dane scrubbed and checked through

  the sterilised instruments they had brought with them while Sister Ravele

  prepared the patient for surgery.

  The Chief's black, pain-filled eyes met Dane's when they finally stood

  around the improvised operating table. ‘Make me well, Doctor, and I will give

  you ten cattle to pay for the woman you want.'

  The Chief was nothing if not persistent, Jessica thought, suppressing a smile,

  but Dane's expression remained inscrutable.

  'Our customs are different, Chief Cedric, you must know that,' Dane told him

  as he checked the light dangling from the rafters.

  'No different,' the Chief muttered stubbornly. 'A man must have a wife ...' he

  continued and, casting a glance in Jessica's direction, he added: 'And woman

  must have a man. It is written so.'

  'No more talking, Chief,' Dane instructed, casting a brief, mocking glance in

  Jessica's direction. 'We're going to put you to sleep now, and when you wake

  up you're going to feel much better.'

  The Chief muttered something in his own language which only Sister Ravele

  seemed to understarid, for she grinned broadly and cast a speculative glance in

  Jessica and Dane's direction, but Dane was oblivious of this as he nodded

  briefly at Jessica, indicating that she could give, the anaesthetic.

  Jessica found the vein in the Chief's arm, and injected pentothal sodium

  directly into it. Moments later she raised

  her glance. 'You can go ahead, Dane.'

  'Ready, Sister Ravele?' Dane queried, and when the district nurse nodded, he

  said grimly, 'Here we go, then.'

  Jessica had never worked under such primitive conditions before, but Dane

  looked calm and confident, his hands steady as he made the first incision down

  to the muscle. When the caecum was finally exposed they found the ruptured

  appendix, and then Dane had to work fast. Infected matter had been discharged

  into the peritoneal cavity, and suddenly it was no longer a simple ap-

  pendectomy.

  A little more than an hour later they were blanket- lifting the Chief into the

  adjoining room where Sister Ravele had prepared a bed for the patient, and

  leaving the Sister in charge, Dane and Jessica packed their bags and stepped out

  into the blinding afternoon sun.

  'Are you leaving at once, Doctor?' Patrick Kapufu wanted to know after they

  had informed him of his brother's condition.

  'We can't leave until we're sure the infection has cleared up, and that might

  not be until tomorrow.' Dane's reply shocked Jessica into realising that neither

  of them had thought to bring along a change of clothing, but then neither of

  them had expected complications to set in.

  'That is good,' Patrick Kapufu's voice sliced through her thoughts. 'We are

  having a very important ceremony this evening, and we would be honoured if

  you would both attend. It is the domba dance which is performed by the young

  women preparing for marriage, or as the White people call it, the snake^ dance.'

  Dane's taut features relaxed in to a semblance of a smile. 'We would be

  honoured to be your guests.'

  'Come,' Patrick ordered, 'I will show you to your huts.'

  Jessica had no idea what Dane was thinking, but she viewed the night ahead

  in a mud hut with a great deal of trepidation. To her surprise the huts Patrick

  had mentioned were more like log cabins with a neatly thatched roof. Each was

  furnished with modern pine furniture, and added to this there was the luxury of

  a private bathroom.

  Jessica's surprise must have been evident, for Patrick smiled at her obvious

  ignorance, and explained tolerantly, ‘ My brother, Chief Cedric, still prefers the

  old-fashioned and primitive way of life, but these huts were designed and

  furnished for the comfort of his guests.'

  'I'm sure we shall be most comfortable,'Jessica assured him, a blush staining her

  cheeks. Thank you very much.'

  'Shall I telephone Dr O'Brien and tell him that you're staying the night, Dr

  Trafford?' Patrick asked Dane.

  Dane nodded curtly. T would be grateful if you would,'

  T have ordered one of my brother's wives to see to your needs, and I shall call for

  you personally as soon as the moon has risen,' Patrick told them. 'The festivities

  start only after dark.'

  He bowed towards them, and then he was gone, leaving Jessica and Dane alone

  on the doorstep of her hut.

  'It seems as though we have a few entertaining hours ahead of us,' Jessica

  remarked casually.

  'Have you ever seen them do the snake dance before?' Dane asked, his eyes

  narrowed and faintly mocking.

  'Briefly on film, yes,' she nodded. 'Have you?'

  'I was privileged to watch it once soon after my arrival in Louisville, and it's

  something worth seeing twice.'

  'I sha
ll look forward to it, then,' she smiled up at him tentatively, but he was

  already turning from her and striding towards his own hut.

  He looked as tired and hot as she felt and, sighing, she entered the hut and closed

  the door behind her.

  Before she could do more than just take in her surroundings, there was a knock

  on the door, and she opened it to find herself presented with a plate of

  sandwiches and an iced lime drink on a small tray. Jessica thanked the woman,

  and white teeth flashed in the ebony-coloured face

  before she departed, leaving Jessica to enjoy her light meal. It did more than fill

  the hollow at the pit of her stomach, and afterwards she indulged in a cool,

  refreshing shower.

  Leaving off her skirt and blouse, she decided to try out the bed. The mattress

  was soft, yielding beneath her tired body, and a few minutes later she was

  asleep.

  Jessica had no idea how long she slept, but she awoke with a start to find

  Dane bending over her, and she was suddenly conscious of several things all at

  once. Her face was devoid of make-up, and her embarrassing state of undress

  was being observed by a pair of warm, sensually lazy eyes.

  'Dinner is served,' he announced mockingly, taking in her flushed cheeks, and

  the thrust of her small breasts against the lacy top of her petticoat, and for one

  frightful moment she thought that he was referring to her as replenishment for

  his sexual appetite, but, almost as if he had read her thoughts, he added

  derisively, T told the Chief's wife not to disturb you, but to set a table for two in

  my hut.'

  'Oh.' She breathed a little easier when he straightened and turned towards the

  door. 'I'll be with you in about ten minutes.'

  'Make it five,' he said, opening the door and glancing back at her with eyes

  that took in every detail of her appearance once again. 'I don't enjoy cold steak.'

  Jessica's heartbeats resumed their normal pace when the door closed behind

  him, and she dressed quickly. From the small purse which she always carried

  around with her she took out her comb, powder compact and lipstick, and two

  minutes later she grimaced at her reflection in the mirror. With no powder base

  or moisturiser handy, this would just have to do, she decided.

  Dusk had settled over the heated, silent earth while they enjoyed the meal

  which had been prepared for them, but the silence around them seemed to be

  full of the

  promise of excitement.

  When the rising moon shed its first silvery rays across the darkened, dense

  vegetation, Patrick arrived to escort • them along the path leading towards the

  river where the fires had been lit in preparation for the ceremony.

  Every year, from far and near, young maidens were sent to Chief Cedric's

  settlement to participate in this ritual, Patrick explained as he guided them

  towards a low bench a little distance from the fires. Tonight, he said, there

  would be approximately one hundred and fifty girls, the most there had ever

  been.

  Jessica and Dane were not the only spectators. Almost the entire settlement

  was there, seating themselves in a large circle around the fires, and excitement

  shivered through Jessica when a sudden hush fell upon all the spectators. She

  glanced in the direction Patrick was pointing, and through an opening in the

  crowd stepped a tall man in a feathered headdress and splendid ceremonial

  robes.

  'That's the Master of the domba,' Dane whispered to her, 'and domba means

  python, by the way.'

  Jessica watched as he stepped into what would be termed the 'arena', and he

  was followed by the seemingly endless row of young girls, wearing beaded

  strips of cloth to cover their loins, and very little else. They filed into the arena,

  every last one of them, and then, at a given, signal from the Master of the

  domba, they silently enacted something which Jessica found difficult to

  understand at first, but Patrick was quick to explain.

  'When our young women are preparing for marriage, they attend lectures in

  the evenings, and they are taught many things about the morals and

  conventions of married life. They are also taught to mime the things they have

  been taught, and that is what they are doing now.'

  'What makes the python so special; so significant?' Jessica asked in a curious

  whisper.

  Patrick smiled with that tolerance she had noticed once before. 'The python is a

  powerful snake, and among some of our more primitive people it is still

  considered a god.'

  The miming continued for a considerable time before the drums started

  thudding, and this caused a stir of excitement to rise among the spectators as the

  Master of the domba cried out in a deep, melodious voice, f Tharu ya

  mahbidighami!y

  'The python is uncoiling,' Patrick translated for them, and indeed it was.

  The girls, all one hundred and fifty of them, joined up one behind the other until

  they formed what looked like a weaving, sinuous line to perform the dance of the

  python, and it was the most fascinating spectacle Jessica had ever witnessed. The

  girls, their dark, near-naked bodies gleaming in the light of the fires, performed

  the rhythmic, evocative motions of the python's lithe movement, while the

  baritone of the mirumba and the bass of the ngoma drums provided a primitive

  and intoxicating rhythm which seemed to stir the blood in Jessica's veins.

  Caught up in the magic of this primitive ritual, she leaned back against Dane

  when she felt his arm slip about her waist, and the touch of his lips against her

  temple became a part of this unusual night.

  Two hours later, when the fires had died down to glowing embers in the

  darkness, the exhausted dancers slipped away to rest, the drums ceased their

  rhythmic beat, and Patrick wished Dane and Jessica a peaceful night after

  escorting them part of the way back to their huts.

  Under the spell of those primitive drums which seemed to continue beating

  within her, Jessica did not avoid Dane's descending lips in the shadows close to

  their huts. His hands caressed her, awakening new fires and wild emotions which

  made her cling to him in sheer rapture when he lifted her in his arms and carried

  her effortlessly into his hut. In the darkened intimacy of the room his lips and

  hands set her aflame with a desire which craved fulfilment, and there was no

  room for thought when he eventually peeled off her clothes, his hands brushing

  against her skin with a slow sensuality which sent exquisite sensations surging

  through her.

  She had never dreamed that she could ever want a man as much as she wanted

  Dane at that moment, and her hands, eager to touch him as he was touching her,

  tugged at his shirt buttons. His breathing was as ragged as her own as he

  shrugged himself out of it hurriedly, his hand going to the buckle of his belt, and

  when at last he lowered her down on to the bed she surrendered herself willingly

  to the demands of those pursuasive hands on her responsive flesh. She was

  intoxicated by his kisses, her hand freely caressing his hair-roughened chest and

  muscled shoulders, and she gloried in the experience, but a little cry of intense

  pleas
ure escaped her when his mouth left hers to explore the most sensitive areas

  of her breast.

  'Oh, Dane, Dane ...' she moaned softly, her body aflame with the urgency of her

  desire as his hand slid down her abdomen to seek further intimacies, but at that

  moment there was an urgent knock on the door of the hut.

  Shocked back to sanity, Jessica drew a sharp breath as if someone had struck

  her a vicious blow, but Dane's splayed fingers tightened on her hip as if in

  warning, and she knew why. Even in this day and age, with polygamy practised

  by the Venda chiefs, it was still unheard of that a man should lie down with a

  woman before going through the proper ritual of paying for her in the required

  manner with the accepted number of cattle, and if she and Dane should be found

  together it would be considered an insult to their imperious host.

  'Yes? What is it?' Dane's abrupt voice scraped along her raw nerves.

  'The Chief is running a fever,' Sister Ravele's voice reached them through the

  door. 'Will you come at once, Dr Trafford?'

  'I'll be there as quick as I can,' Dane replied, and shame and humiliation washed

  over Jessica like a heated wave as they lay there in the darkness listening to her

  hurried footsteps disappearing in the direction of the Chief's hut. 'I'm sorry,

  Jessica,' Dane muttered thickly, and she was not quite sure whether he meant that

  he regretted the interruption, or the fact that he had tried to make love to her.

  'You'd better go,' she told him in a shamed, stilted voice. 'I'll follow you after a

  few minutes.'

  Jessica lay shivering in the blessed darkness despite the warmth of the night

  while Dane pulled on his clothes and left the hut. When the door closed behind

  him she slipped out of bed and dressed quickly, but her hands were shaking to

  such an extent that she could hardly fasten the buttons of her blouse. She went hot

  and cold alternatively at the thought of what might have happened had Sister

  Ravele not needed Dane at that precise moment, and she felt sick inside at the

  thought of her own senseless behaviour.

  She slipped out of Dane's hut feeling very much like a criminal of sorts and,

  jumping at every moving shadow, she made her way towards the Chief's hut

  which was lit inside with a dim gas lamp.

  She could not look at Dane, but neither did he look up when she entered the