Farai's Pumpkin Dance

Long, long ago, in a little village nestled at the foot of a deep blue mountain, there lived a girl named Farai. She was very poor and had no father or mother to care for her. Her clothes were so old and tattered that they looked worse than an old goat’s coat.

Everyone in the village felt pity for her, but no one gave her any help, so she ran about in dirty sacks, fighting with mongrels and crows for food in garbage heaps.

Farai was still too young and weak to find work, and it is a miracle that she did not die of hunger.

Her left leg was bowed and she went about in a limp. Adults and children alike laughed at the way that she walked.

One night, Farai crouched under a tree in the middle of the village, afraid of lightning that constantly flashed in the sky, where clouds that looked as dark and devilish had gathered.

Squeezed into a ball, she heard the village chief’s messengers announcing at the top of their voices that there would be a dance competition for all the little girls of the village. The dance was being held in celebration of the full moon which was set to appear after three days.

Everyone in the village named Mapungubje went about their business chatting about the dance festival. It would be the first of its kind in the village’s history, said the people with joyful anticipation written all over their faces.

Farai looked at her bowed leg and felt hot tears rising in her eyes. I’ll never be a dancer, she thought.

“It’s going be a first!” said a man who was dressed in a leopard loincloth. “I want to teach my daughter all the finest dancing styles under the sun. She will definitely win the dance. I swear to the ancestors!”

“I can’t wait for it!” Farai heard a woman saying. “Let me go and find all my daughters. They just have to be in that dance.”

“It’s the great dance time!” the clowns of the village went about screaming into people’s faces. “Bring out all the little girls to the dance. Let them dance out the beauty in their hearts. That is by Mapinga, chief of Mapungubje's command.”

Anticipation of the dance shrouded the village like a mist.

“Can I also join in the dance?” Farai asked two men and a woman. They gawked at her and turned to laugh. One of the men rolled on the ground with laughter.

Farai tried to join into conversations about the dance but people pushed her away, pointed at her bowed leg, and laughed at her like hyenas.

Farai looked at her leg, shook her head and cursed herself.

“You have brought me misery in this world!” she said to her leg, tears gathering in her eyes. “Even though I love to dance, I won’t because of you, my leg.”

The sky suddenly broke and it started raining as tears streamed down Farai’s face.

Farai loved the night rain because it brought special dreams to her sleep. She found dry ground and covered herself in her sacks to sleep, a smile planted across her countenance.

A dream soon visited her in her sleep. Farai heard a little voice in her dream saying to her, again and again:

“Dance, Dance, Dance -

As if you have no bones

Just dance to the song in your heart

And to the beat of the drum!”

“Dance as if I have no bones!” Farai smiled to herself in the dream. “I will dance to the song in my heart and to the beat of the drum! Oh, I love this dream”

And so Farai danced her heart out in the dream. She danced before the flowers, the trees and the moon. She danced to the corners of the earth and on top of the world.

As she danced, she wore a beautiful smile on her face because dancing is all she had ever wanted to do.

Farai suddenly woke up. She felt sad that she had just been dreaming. She was wet to the bone from the rains.

It was already in the morning. Outside, it had stopped raining. Everything appeared fresh, so full of life and color.

Talk of the dance filled the atmosphere in the village with eagerness that even the trees and the flowers had bloomed for it.

Farai squinted her eyes at the sky, thinking that she had seen a rainbow flying towards her. Suddenly, a huge butterfly with wings made of rainbow colours dropped out of the sky and flapped down towards her. Farai wanted to run away but she couldn’t move. The butterfly gathered her in its wings and everything around Farai became a sea of colour.

The butterfly carried Farai on its back, and together they floated over many rivers and mountains. They landed at a place where people’s faces were made of light. Their faces radiated with joy, hope and dreams.

When the people walked, they flickered like beautiful golden flames. When the people smiled, their faces shined like diamonds.

“This is what happens when you dream,” said the butterfly, “You become filled with a special light.”

Farai stood rooted in a daze. Little stars grew around her feet and turned into streams of silver light.

Farai marveled in the bliss of the light. She walked on top of the stream of light with the butterfly fluttering its huge wings beside her. Farai looked up and saw that the sky was filled with stars that flew in several directions, shining like fireflies.

She looked down and saw the stream of light disappearing into the ground and a flame-lily appeared in front of her.

“Step on the flame lily with one foot, then the other,” said the butterfly.

Farai nearly jumped out her skin, she stood frozen to the ground.

“I can’t, I will break it!” cried Farai, shaking her head.

The butterfly spun in the air. It stretched its wings and nudged Farai towards the flame-lily with both its wings. Farai obliged, and with one foot stepped on the flame lily, then with the other.

And as soon as she had stepped on the flame-lily with both her feet, the flame lily broke out into flames that covered Farai without burning her. Farai felt all the fear in her heart oozing out. Her heart beat loudly like a little lioness.

The flames slowly lifted Farai off the ground and settled her in a valley that was filled with dry bones. Farai looked around her and realized that the butterfly had disappeared. Shivering, Farai looked up and saw a faint fire glowing ahead of her. She immediately decided to walk towards it.

Suddenly she saw large earthen pots that were turned upside down. Farai tried to turn up one of the largest, but it resisted her efforts. Farai persevered and at length succeeded in heaving up the pot.

A little old woman who was grinding red ochre between two stones popped out of the pot. Frightened to death, Farai quickly tried to turn the pot over but the little old woman screeched:

“My grandchild, do you turn me up and then turn me upside down again. Now please carry me on your back.”

Before Farai had time to refuse, the little old woman jumped up and clung to Farai’s back, so that she could not get rid of her.

“Now walk,” said the little old woman, pointing to the east.

Farai walked, till, at last seeing a herd of impala, thought she had found a way to escape.

“Grandmother, get down that I may go and kill one of those long-legged animals, so that I may carry you easily in its skin,” said Farai.

The old woman crawled down Farai’s back, and sat on the ground. Farai made at full speed after the impala.

As soon as she was out of the old woman’s sight, Farai turned aside and hid in a hole of an ant-bear.

After waiting for a time and finding that Farai did not come back, the old woman got up and tracked Farai by her footprints, till she came to Farai’s hiding place. She used a long stick to poke Farai out of the hole.

“Now walk,” said the little old woman, climbing back onto Farai’s back. She pulled Farai’s hair and pointed to the east.

A little hut soon appeared in front of them.

A small fire was flickering inside the hut; the flames glowing like a new sunrise.

“Get in, little girl,” Farai heard the old woman’s voice. “I’ve been waiting for you, don’t waste time, you will be late for the dance."

Farai felt her heart leaping up and down.

“How do you know about the dance?” Farai asked with something of a shock in her eyes.

But the old woman was already crawling off Farai’s back. She searched in one of the clay pots sitting in the corner of the hut, pulled out a package covered in red and black cloth.

“You must go for the dance,” said the little old woman

Farai slowly opened the package and found a bottle of coconut oil, some sandalwood, gold earrings and amber beads.

“Prepare yourself for the great dance tonight,” the little old woman said, crawling around the hut. “There’s a stream behind the hut. Go and bath, and get ready.”

Farai squeezed her ears to make sure that she was not dreaming, then dragged her feet behind the hut. She took a quick bath, washed her hair and massaged herself with the coconut oil. She perfumed herself with sandalwood, wore the magnificent gold earrings and put the amber beads on her wrists.

“You’re no longer a girl but a woman,” said the voice of the old woman from behind. “You must now be able to listen with new ears, see with new eyes and be patient.”

Farai looked behind her with a startle.

“Let your dance tonight reveal your charm and personality,” she said.

The little old woman then took Farai’s hair into her hands, and caressed it with fresh and warm milk mixed with some crushed herbs. She braided it and adorned it with triangular glass talismans, carved shell disks, glass and amber beads and tiny gold pendants.

Afterwards, the old woman gave Farai a copper armlet.

“You must wear it,” said the old woman, her smile showing missing teeth “It will bring you good luck.”

Farai looked at the old woman as she slipped on the amulet, her eyes glistening with tears.

“Now, listen, Farai!” said the old woman. “Before you get started, you own the dance, but after you begin, the dance owns you. Open your eyes. Open your mind.”

Farai shrugged her shoulders and smiled. The little old woman invited Farai into the little hut where they sat down to eat cooked pumpkin.

“We must go now,” said the old woman, clicking her fingers. “We must go now.”

The butterfly with huge wings appeared again and carried both of them on its back to the centre of the village of Mapungubje where the dance of little girls had already begun under the glare of a full moon’s light.

A girl was dancing in the middle of a big circle. Men were whistling while the women ululated. The girl finished her dance, and another girl entered the middle of the circle to dance. Then another, and another and yet another …

“It’s your turn now,” the little old woman whispered into Farai’s ears.

But Farai stood rooted to the ground. None of the little girls around entered the circle. Farai did not move even though - deep in her heart – she want to jump in and dance.

That night, Farai’s eyes were like those of a gazelle, her skin was as clear as water, and her teeth were as white as milk. Her back was long and straight. None of the villagers even took notice of her bowed leg because they were all mesmerized by her beauty.

The drums rumbled and the musicians sang their hearts out like they had not done before. The whistles and the ululations of men and women, the little and the old people, nearly tore the moon out of the sky.

Farai bent down and shook her head, first to the left, then to the right and to the left again. Then she jumped up with her hands spread out as if she wanted to catch something in the air; and landed in the middle of the circle with her knees. Dust rose around her sparkling like golden rings under the glare of the moonlight. Farai collected herself and faced forwards, then rose up like a waterfall flowing upwards; raising and flailing her arms. Her eyes sparkled with joy and stars twinkled in her heart. She was a dancer after all, and dance she would until the end of her days, she said to herself. Nothing was going to stop her.

She raised her nostrils and dragged in the moist air. Her face radiated like the rising sun. The sound of the drums and the musicians filled her heart. She suddenly felt aglow in herself like the flicker of a flame on a dark night.

“Why have I been hiding my spirit all this time? Why have I been wasting my spirit of joy and brilliance?” Farai murmured to herself.

Then it got hold of her – a spirit so deep and free she almost thought it never existed. The spirit grew roots inside her. The roots spread through her veins and into the earth. She felt firm and strong like a baobab. She grew a little faint but she quickly picked herself again.

Then she grew tall – as tall as the tree that stood behind her. And she became one with the sky. Time and space danced in her palm. Her womb gave birth to many nations. She knew that she was not just a simple village girl. She was a queen. She felt herself sliding on top of the moon.

In that moment, she suddenly changed the step of her dance. Her feet dug into the earth. She lifted the left foot, then the other, and threw her head to the side. Then she swung her whole body, raising a cloud of dust from the ground.

Farai lowered her eyes and smiled. She twitched the corners of her mouth.

She sank down to the earth with her knees bent, gracefully swinging her arms forwards and backwards. She turned her head to display a broad smile and the whiteness of her eyes and teeth. She swayed back and forth on her knees while the women clapped and ululated to the mesmerizing dance.

The song Farai danced to recounted tales of how the ancestors traveled from afar to found the village. Farai could feel the song piercing into her like a hot spear. The song burned her insides until she became a flame. Suddenly, her dance unfurled like a spoken language.

Farai heard the voice of the little old woman saying: “You must overcome your obstacles. Now is the time Farai. Aim for the stars. Dance all your bones away! Let your soul express itself without any hindrance”

With a graceful swing of her arms, Farai rose again and stamped the ground with both her feet.

Around her ankles, Farai had strands of dried seed-pods which accentuated the rhythm of her steps. Her hands, arms and feet were decorated with a dye made of henna, water and the juice of unripe limes. Her hair swung wildly from side to side, emphasizing the sinuous movement of her body.

As the drums stopped playing, Farai threw her hands into the air and swung her head to the side.

“Who is this little girl?” asked the chief of Mapungubje, jumping out of his seat.

“My name is Farai?” said Farai, bowing her head to the chief.

Suddenly most of the people realized that the little girl that had danced with so much grace was the same girl that wore sacks. It’s Farai, Some of the people fainted and others just stood with their mouths open.

“This is the winner of the dance competition,” said the chief, raising Farai’s hand, “And she can have anything that she wants in the village.”

The people gasped.

“What do you want in the village?” asked the chief.

“I have only one request,” said Farai. “I found my grandmother – can she live with me in the village.”

“Of course – of course,” said the chief. “Where is she – let everyone see her.”

Farai looked around in the crowd of faces but couldn’t find the little old woman. Just a minute ago, the little old woman had smiled at her but now she was nowhere to be seen.

“She was standing right here, a few seconds ago,” cried Farai. Looking up, Farai saw a little butterfly fluttering up towards the moon until it became a twinkling star. Farai waved at the butterfly, her eyes glistening with tears. Just as she thought it would fly away forever, something magical happened. The sky lit up with glowing butterflies, their shimmering wings filling the air with soft, colorful light.

“We will find her later,” said Mapinga, giving Farai a finial of a gold-coated staff featuring a hand holding an egg made of diamond. “This is yours for winning the dance – you can buy a whole kingdom with it.”

The people gasped in surprise.

Mapinga looked at Farai and said: “Power is like an egg – hold it too tightly it breaks, hold it too loosely and it falls. You’re the best dancer in our village but never let it spoil your head.”

The people raised their arms to show appreciation. At the same time, the moon kissed the treetops with a golden, shimmering glow and slid behind a cloud. Then, the moon burst forth again from behind the cloud, and showered the village with an orange light.

ENDS