North coast of modern day Kermah, 1790Young Otieno had run the few kilometers from the coast back to the Chief's holding. "Chief Mombassa" he yelled as he hurried towards the enclosure for the cattle where the Chief liked to start his day.
"Calm boy" the Chief addressed the 12 year old. "Whats got you excited?"
"I was in the market with my father buying cloth for the Uhmlang Festival when a big boat arrived. White men got off and one of the men at the port said it was a Chief from a land far off, I think he called it East Moreland." The name didn't ring many bells with Chief Mombassa but that wasn't a surprise as the tribe got very few visitors from beyond the lands the tribe neared. It was though a good oppurtunity to gain prestige and influence above the other tribes, maybe even better weapons. They'd heard rumours of the Kinjanja King's buying canon from Paracambi and so one day those guns may come their way. The Chief called for one of his faster warriors to head to the coast and invite the foreign Chief to the festival.
TWO DAYS LATERThe Uhmlang was a great occasion for the tribe. It was one of the few times that the whole tribe gathered and women busied themselves in the fields around the Chief's home territory sorting themselves out for the festival. Women would be assigned their regiment for war time and five lucky women would be selected to serve the Chief for the year. It was a role of great honour, if the girls was fortunate enough to end up in bed with the Chief and conceive she became his wife and was a Queen, if she didn't end up pregnant the rich men of the tribe would be desperate to get her to be their own wife. Either way it was a way for the poor families to find themselves shooting up the social ladder of the tribe. The foreign Chief, or as it had turned out a King, had arrived the day before and had spent time with his white followers exploring the area. He had become fascinated with the strange Ratel menace that raided the tribes honey bee hives but he had seemed a pleasant enough man. Mombassa had enjoyed trying out the swords of steel the men had brought, it was a vast difference to the spears his own men used and he felt he'd learned something useful. Mombassa made the decision that after picking his own women he would allow his new friend a selection too. Who knew maybe in the years to come a Mombaka women could become Queen of this strange land.
The parade came and it was clear this King Sven was a little uncomfortable with the semi nakedness. As the different tribes walked past girls jostled and pushed to get to the front of the group so that they may catch the Chief's eye. Every now and again one of his sons was sent down to get the name of a girl that had appealed to the Chief. Once the last of the several thousand women had danced by the Chief he stood and yelled across the assembled throng and called out five names. As each girl was called there were cheers from the ring of men who encircled the whole spectacle, no doubt her family. She then marched out of her Regiment, a little shield in one hand and a knife in the other. As she reached the Chief she exchanged her shield for one made from white cowhide, only the Chief was permitted to have white shields for his soldiers. She was now in his service until the next festival. A woman with a round belly sat behind the Chief, one of the girls picked from last year who was now a Queen. Sven meanwhile was a little awkward but he had a need to ensure his boat to cross the Kyne was well stocked and with the Chief's tribe controlling this region it didn't do to get on his bad side.
The Chief stood and spoke to his people, a man knelt next to King Sven translating for him, he was a member of the tribe who had visited Paracambi and from there Bakkermaya and knew some of this strange man's language. "Today we are honoured to have a mighty chief from East Moreland with us, the Chief has many spears, or swords, back home and is a man we now call friend." Sven nodded thankfully at the kind introduction. "I therefore believe he should be permitted to pick himself a lady for service in his own Regiments." Sven looked even more nervous after the words were translated and needed to find a way out of it. He made it look as though he was looking at the women while he thought and then he spoke via the translator. The Chief listened carefully, his face going from angry, confused and then laughter. The Chief stood and while still laughing addressed his people. " Our guest says that our women are so beautiful he can not make his mind up, in his lands a powerful man can only have one wife ." The crowd laughed at the thought, "He is married and has a son so can not take a woman from our tribe even if he could make a decision. He has said if we wish to give him a gift he would like a Ratel." Again there was laughter, the tribe hated the little beasts. "I have told him for as much as I care he can take them all. I therefore have a contest. The Regiment to capture the most Ratel by nightfall will be my personal guard for the year." The women before them rushed off and throughout the rest of the day there was whooping and calling around the village. At nightfall crates were piled and a total of 8 Honeybagders, six female and two male had somehow been captured. A further three had been killed but several women sported bandages from their attempts. As Sven inspected the crates one of the male ones seemed to be particularly feisty.
Sven turned to the Chief and smiled and withdrew a sword from one of his men's belts. "In my homeland the symbol of owning a sword is one that shows a man is worthy of respect and is a man of honour. On behalf of our nation I'd like you to have this." He handed the blade over "Now this animal" he tapped the crate, "What should we call him as I think he's the boss."
"Well in our tongue we would call him Stoffel, it means the Fierce One." The Chief was still admiring his sword. The festival continued with much feasting and in the morning the two men embraced as friends and the Honeybadgers and the King made their first steps towards home. That was the first and last time that the two had meet, until now.
To His Majesty King David of East Moreland
Over two centuries ago the King of East Moreland, almost by accident wandered into the Uhmland Festival. During that day our people for a brief time became friends and gave gifts to each other. You became the home of the Ratel, that you know by the name the Honeybadger and in return my tribe were presented with a sword. There had been hope from our ancestors that this could have become the start of a friendship with people beyond the ocean but sadly for reasons beyond either of our control that never happened. Now as we reach my third decade in charge of Gotorland I think I have taken our people as far as possible without having us make links beyond the seas. While our nation is well connected to Paracambi I think our old link to your ancestor, and your own interest in History, is something that could give us a foundation from which to begin again a friendship. I would therefore be honoured if I could come and visit the ancestors of that first Honeybadger, whom I believe today is hosting the Winter Games, and to have the sword given to my own ancestor given some care and attention. I look forward to your response.
King Tebogo Opeyemi of the Mombaka Tribe
Katikkiro of Gotoroland
