DinDingwe Mhuri

DinDingwe Mhuri

         Long, long ago, on the grasslands of Zimbabwe, lived a band of three brothers. Mukoma, the eldest of the three was mighty and protective of his younger brothers.  Mhanya, afraid of nothing would meet any challenge fearlessly. Mwari, the youngest of the three was filled with wonder and dreams. Together with their “Amai” (Mother) they were a “dindingwe mhuri” (cheetah family).

         The brothers spent a great deal of their mornings being taught crouching, stalking, pouncing and climbing. These were skills that would allow them to survive in their harsh home. Mukoma and Mhanya paid close attention to these lessons and would practice until they were exhausted.  Mwari would watch and sometimes-even practice, but he was often distracted from them.  A vulture flying high in the sky or a herd of elephants passing in the distance was all it would take for Mwari to wander.

         Maha, their mother, often cautioned Mwari about paying attention to the lessons she was teaching and to practice often. Every time his mother would caution him, Mwari would say, “Amai, I am paying attention and I will practice, I promise.”

         “Mwari, you need to practice more.  These skills will help you to survive,” said Maha.

         Maha knew that Mwari did not practice as often as his brothers did and she worried if Mwari would survive.

         Late one afternoon, as the sun shone high in the sky, the three brothers rested in the branches of the acacia tree. Mukoma stretched out on one of the center branches. He always kept a protective eye on the horizon watching for predators. Fearless as he was, Mhanya rested in the highest of branches.  His view of the grasslands was vast from his perch above. 

         “Mwari, did you practice your climbing this morning?” questioned Mukoma.

         In the middle of a daydream about being a king Mwari did not hear his brother.  “Mwari!” barked Mukoma. Mwari startled and hissed, nearly falling from the low branch that held him.  Both Mukoma and Mhanya chirped with glee as they watched their youngest brother struggle to maintain his balance.

         “Mwari, you made a promise to Amai. Did you practice your climbing this morning?” repeated Mhanya.

         Mwari lifted his head and looked at Mukoma first and then to Mhanya. He thought a moment and began his answer as he always did, “Well, you see, I was going to…”

         Before Mwari could finish his newest excuse, Mukoma cut him off with a sharp chirp of authority, “Mwari, when are you going to learn to keep your word? You always say that you are going to practice and you never do! You cannot make promises and then not keep them. Mwari, that is lying.” 

         Hidden in the tall grass of the savanna, Maha observed her cubs.  Beneath their smoky gray fur and mantle, each of them was built for speed having long, slender legs, a flexible spine, large lungs, large nostrils and non-retractable claws. Her sons were losing their cub fur. The sleek spotted fur that set them apart from all other big cats of the grasslands, was beginning to show through.

         Maha listened as Mukoma scolded his youngest brother. Maha knew that she must soon test their skills of survival. Once again she wondered if Mwari would survive. “He is a special cub. He has vision. It is time I teach my youngest cub the value of keeping his word,” Maha thought to herself.  Maha smiled as a plan began to form.

         Maha chirped softly as she approached from the tall grass.  It had been two days since her last catch and both she and the cubs were hungry. Her chirps signaled to her cubs that she had their dinner and that it was safe for them to come down from the branches of the tree.

         Mwari was the first to jump to the ground. His paws left large imprints in the dust beneath the tree. Mhanya and Mukoma crept down from their perches in the tree. 

         As Maha made her way into the clearing, the body of a small gazelle dragging between her long muscular legs, she continued to call to her cubs. Mhanya and Mukoma crouched low to the ground, their ears flat against their heads, their large nostrils flared as their stomachs growled with hunger. 

         Without a thought in his mind, Mwari went to his mother and brushed his body against hers, purring loudly. With one swipe of her large front paw, Maha pushed Mwari from her side. 

         Maha dropped the lifeless body of the gazelle and turned to Mwari.  “Mwari, take your place beside your brothers,” she chirped.

         Mwari lowered his head and moved to crouch beside his brothers. 

         “My sons, today you will earn your dinner,” she began. “Each of you must prove your strength and climbing skills. Each of you must carry this gazelle to the center branches of the acacia tree. If one of you fails, all of you fail and none of you will eat tonight.”

         Mukoma rose from his crouch and approached the gazelle. Having observed his mother many times, Mukoma knew that he must center the gazelle between his forepaws and keep a tight grip on the neck of the beast. Mhanya watched his older brother, taking notice of his grip and how he had placed himself above the gazelle.

         Once again distracted, Mwari watched a dung beetle rolling its ball of dung across the dirt.

         Mukoma lifted the gazelle and moved to the base of the tree.  His long well muscled hind legs contracted and flexed and propelled his body and the body of the gazelle upward.  Long un-retracted nails dug into the tortured and twisted bark of the tree. With careful timing Mukoma made his way up the gnarled surface. He reached the middle branches and opened his mouth, the body of the gazelle rested on the thickest part of the branch. 

         “Well done my son,” purred Maha.

         Mhanya was next. He too had practiced his climbing skills often and it showed as he repeated the same process as his brother before him.

         “Well done my son,” chirped Maha. 

         Now it was Mwari’s turn to prove his climbing skills. Mwari had paid little attention to the lessons of climbing. Although he had promised, he had not spent much time practicing the skill.

         Mwari stepped up to the gazelle and sniffed it, his empty stomach growling with hunger. He crouched low and lifted the gazelle in his mouth, he stumbled as he approached the base of the tree and nearly lost his hold on the beast.  He tried to remember what his mother had said about being centered before you leap, or was it leaping to the center?

         Mwari decided that leaping to the center of the tree had to be right.  He leapt to the center and the weight of the gazelle swung wide. He lost his grip on the acacia tree and the gazelle. He slid down the trunk and landed with a thump at the bottom.

         Mukoma and Mhanya let out a low hiss of disappointment.  Maha looked at Mwari and shook her head. Mwari heard his brother’s hissing and pleaded, “Amai please let me try again, I will make it this time. Trust me Amai, please.”

         Maha inclined her regal head and Mwari once again took the gazelle in his mouth.

         “This time I will get it right, if it is not leaping to the center, then it must be center myself before I leap,” Mwari thought to himself.

         Mwari centered himself to the base of the tree and sprung upwards on his hind legs.  The weight of the gazelle drew his head downward as his body lifted upwards, his front paws tangled in the legs of the gazelle. He slammed hard against the trunk of the tree. Like the first try, he lost his bite on the gazelle and fell to the ground at the base of the tree. 

         “My sons, it appears that you will need more practice on your climbing skills,” said Maha. 

         “Amai, we practiced.” Mukoma and Mhanya chirped together.

         Mwari was silent. 

         “The rules of the test were simple, as male cheetahs, each of you depends on the other for survival. If one of you fails, then all of you fail,” Maha said.

         “But Amai!” cried Mukoma and Mhanya.

         Maha picked up the gazelle in her mouth and walked into the brush without a glance back. 

         “Brothers, I tried,” chirped Mwari. 

         “You did not practice Mwari! You promised Amai you would and now we will go hungry. How can we trust you?  It is your fault Mwari,” spit Mukoma.

         “Please forgive me,” Mwari pleaded.  “I promise I will practice my climbing, I promise!”

         Mukoma turned his head and hissed with anger,  “Do not make promises you do not intend to keep.”

         Turning thier backs to thier brother, Mukoma and Mhanya stalked off into the tall grass; they’re stomachs growling with hunger.

         Mwari sat alone at the base of the acacia tree and glanced up. “I know that it is easy to climb without food in my mouth, it should be just as easy with food in my mouth,” he thought to himself. Mwari’s stomach growled with hunger.

         Mwari spit fiercely and picked up a very large branch that had fallen from the tree.  He positioned himself before the base of the tree and centered the large branch between his forepaws.  With determination, he sprung upwards, keeping his head in line with his spine and the large branch held firmly in his jaws. Long claws anchored his body to the tree as he inched his way to the lower branches. He slowly made his way up into the middle branches of the tree. 

         Over and over he climbed with the large branch.  Hours later and completely exhausted he laid in the tree.  “If I were a king, I would not have to get food into a tree,” he thought.  “If I were a king…” was the last thought Mwari had before his eyes closed and he drifted into a deep sleep.

         Mwari yawned and stretched, his body seemed different as he flexed his muscles.  The pain of hunger reminded him of his failure the night before. Mwari crept down the branches of the tree and padded quietly through the tall grass. 

         He thought it odd that his brothers had not joined him for the night in the tree.  Amai always said that it was the safest place for them.  He approached the bank of the river and crouched low, closing his eyes he leaned forward to drink his fill of water. His eyes flew open when he heard a sound just beyond the tall reeds that lined the river.  He did not move.  His ears laid flat against his head, every muscle in his body was tense. Suddenly a bird squawked loudly and flew from the tall grass. Mwari relaxed his body and rose from his crouch.

         He glanced at the shimmering surface of the river and turned to find his brothers, he stopped instantly and turned back to the shimmering water.  He looked again and saw his reflection in the water, he barely recognized himself. The soft gray wooly fur and mantle were gone, replaced by bold unbroken stripes running the length of his spine; inkblot spots raised above the base fur and spread over his legs, sides and chest. His tail was both striped and ringed. “I am a king,” he thought with wonder.  “I am a King Cheetah! I am the rarest of all cheetahs! I knew it was true! I am a King!”  he chirped loudly.

         “Mwari, wake up!” barked Mhanya.  “

         Mwari woke with a start and nearly fell from his perch in the tree. 

         “What?” Mwari replied sleepily as he regained his footing. 

         “Mwari, you need to wake up, Amai and Mukoma are hurt!” cried Mhanya.

         Mwari sprung down from the tree in an instant. “Mhanya, tell me what has happened,” said Mwari. 

         “They are hurt and I cannot keep them safe by myself. I need your help!” Mhanya cried.

         Mhanya took off like a shot and Mwari followed. They moved like streaks of lightning through the night, Mwari’s lungs nearly bursting from the pace his brother set. Mwari followed blindly until his brother slowed to a trot and then to a walk. Mwari Inhaled the cool night air into his large lungs and exhaled through his large nostrils. He moved soundlessly through the grass of the savannah.

         Mhanya let out a series of sharp chirps and waited.  After a moment they heard the pained chirp of their mother.  They moved slowly through the grass and approached the sound of their mother’s chirps. Mwari felt his heart squeeze in his chest as he looked at the melee in front of him. Mwari mewed like a kitten, not knowing what to do first.

         Maha’s beautiful spotted coat was a mass of open wounds and torn muscle.  She lay on the ground breathing heavily.

         “Amai, what happened?” whispered Mwari.

         “It was a lioness, Mwari.  She wanted the gazelle that I carried,” Maha chirped painfully.

         “When Mukoma and I left earlier, we were so angry with you Mwari. We were so hungry we followed Amai to see if she would reconsider the rules for the test and give us our dinner. We did not go far when we heard the roar of the lioness and we rushed to help Amai. The lioness had attacked Amai. Before I could stop Mukoma, he leapt upon the lioness and she turned on him too,” explained Mhanya.

         Mwari saw Mukoma lying motionless and curled into a ball against the base of a large mahogany tree. 

         “Help your brother Mhanya, you must carry him into the high branches of the tree where he will be safe and have time to heal,” cried Maha.

         Mhanya gently gripped Mukoma in his jaws and centering his brother’s body between his forepaws leapt upwards, his nails digging into the bark of the mahogany tree.  Inch by inch he moved until his brother was safe. Mukoma began to wake and mewed with pain.

         Mwari heard them before he saw them.  Yips and yelps, barking and howling. Mwari knew he had to do something quickly, or the scavenging hyenas would kill his wounded mother.

         “Get into the tree Mwari, save yourself,” cried Maha. 

         “No Amai, I will carry you into the safety of the tree too!” cried Mwari. 

         Maha shook her head slowly whispering, “Son it is alright, save yourself.”

         Mwari could see the doubt in his mother’s eyes.  She did not believe that he would be able to carry her to safety. She had every right to doubt him and he knew it right to the very center of his heart.  He had lied to her, making promises to practice and not doing so.  If he had listened to his mother and kept his promise to practice, none of this would have happened. The guilt he felt filled him with remorse. 

         The hyenas were getting closer, their yips and barks louder and frenzied.  “Amai please believe me, I can do this!” Mwari implored.  “Trust me, please,” he begged. 

         Maha looked at her youngest son and with a pained nod of her regal head chirped, “I trust you Mwari.”

         Mwari gripped his mother’s wounded body gently in his jaws and moved to the base of the tree.  He centered her between his forepaws and crouched low.

         Mukoma and Mhanya watched in horror as the pack of hyenas emerged from the bush, their eyes glowing feral red in the darkness.  The pack began to circle and move closer.

         Mwari closed his eyes and the image of the King Cheetah appeared before him.  With strength and courage that he had never felt before, Mwari felt his hind legs coil and spring upward, the weight of his mother’s body feeling no more than the weight of an ostrich feather.  His long claws reached upward towards the trunk of the tree, his back claws hooked deeply into the hard wood.

         Mwari moved quickly and carefully as the pack of hyenas tried to follow, biting at his heels.  His heart beating frantically, his muscles strained as he moved upward. Further and further he climbed, until he and his mother were in the safety of the middle branches. 

         While Maha and Mukoma regained their strength and waited for their wounds to heal, Mhanya and Mwari hunted. Although the two brothers could not bring down a full-grown nyala or gazelle, they were able to stalk and kill hare and birds. These successful hunts provided small, yet regular meals for Maha and Mukoma.

         Mukoma recovered more quickly than Maha; however it was quite some time before the cheetah family was hunting together again. Although respect and trust were earned, no one spoke of the night that nearly destroyed the dindingwe mhuri. 

         One morning the band of brothers working together brought down an old wildebeest. This hunt proved they were skilled and accomplished.  The three brothers proudly presented their catch to Maha. 

         Maha looked at her grown cubs. Mukoma was beautiful in his appearance; his coat was yellow tan with small, round, black spots. His tail carrying four dark rings gave him his identity. His tear marks, running from the corner of his eyes down the sides of his nose to his mouth looked like black velvet.  He had grown into a swift and strong hunter.

         Mhanya, fearless as always, had grown into a beautiful spotted cheetah.  He too had a coat of yellow tan with precise round black spots. His tail carried just five rings, giving him his identity as well.

         Maha purred loudly as Mwari stepped into the clearing.  Mwari was larger than his brothers were. His coat was golden with bold unbroken stripes running the length of his spine. Inkblot spots raised above the base fur, spread over his legs, sides and chest. His tail was both striped and ringed. Mwari was a King Cheetah, the rarest of all cheetahs.

         Knowing that the rainy season was coming, Maha knew she would soon have to leave her sons.  They were fully-grown now and able to care for themselves. Maha chirped softly to her cubs.  The three brothers came at once to their mother’s side.

         “The rainy season is approaching, I have every confidence that you will all live long and adventurous lives,” Maha began.  “You have grown so quickly.  I’ve never been prouder of you, than I am right now. Mukoma, you will face many challenges being the oldest of this coalition. Look to your brothers and trust them.  They will always be there for you. Mhanya your fearlessness, speed and strength will be of great help to this coalition.” 

         Maha turned to her youngest cub and purred loudly,  “Mwari, it was not that long ago that I did not know if you would survive. You have learned many lessons, some of which you had to learn the hardest of ways.  Learning to keep your promises is the most important lesson you could have learned. I am so proud of you.”

         As the sun sank low over the great grasslands of Zimbabwe, the dindingwe mhuri ate their fill of the old wildebeest. They rested contently in the branches of the acacia tree knowing they had survived as a family. They learned to trust one another, and Mwari had learned to keep his promises.