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WIND IN THE
RUSHES
A South Africa Story
By Phyllis Owen
Ibala is a young and very graceful giraffe. Her long neck and body is covered with white
fur with brown patches. She has thin
legs, a firm round spotted stomach, a stiff mane, and a long tufted tail. On the top of her head, close to her ears,
are two short horns covered with skin and hair.
She lives with her mother and several other
giraffes in a land between two ranges of mountains in Kwa Zulu, Natal, South
Africa. Because the land is shaped like
a man’s big toe, the people who live there call it Izinzwani.
It is covered with bush, acacia and clumps of other tall trees so there
is always plenty of leaves and twigs to eat and a river for drinking water.
Everyone living there is very happy, including Ibala. But on the evenings when the moon is large
and full, her hooves itch to dance. She
longs to go to an open clearing near the river where the moonlight fills it
with a strange glow.
She pleaded with her mother to allow her to go even for a short while,
but her mother shook her head vigorously and said, ‘No, Ibala. It is far too dangerous. Leo, the lion, King of the land, usually
hides among the trees and he is very fond of young giraffes.’
Ibala had never seen a lion before so she wasn’t frightened. She felt sure her mother was making a big
fuss about nothing. But being a good
giraffe, she did as she was told until, one evening, when the full moon was
riding high in the sky she could stand it no longer. When she had eaten her fill of twigs and
leavers Ibala heard a strange whispering sound, so faint she leaned forward to
listen. It came from the direction of
the river and she wondered what it could be?
She had heard it once before, but not so insistently, somehow tonight,
it seemed to beckon to her.
Looking around for her mother, she noticed that she had moved deeper
into the shadows of the trees with the other giraffes. In that moment Ibala forgot all about her
mother’s warning.
Hurriedly, she made her way to the river stopping now and again to
listen to the strange whispering sound.
When she arrived, her heart nearly jumped out of her skin with joy as it
came to her that the strange sound was the music of the wind as it hummed
amongst the rushes that grew along the banks of the river. The music vibrated all around her sending
shivers up and down her long spine.
Eagerly, her eyes glowing with pleasure, she quivered as she began to
sway to and fro in time to the music with all the grace of a ballet
dancer. As the wind became stronger the
music quickened and she swung her neck from side to side, closing her eyes and
letting out a low moan and a snort of sheer joy.
Just then, a ragged cloud sailed across
the moon, and for a short while it bathed everything in darkness. A nighthawk screamed a warning but Ibala did
not hear it. She was lost in the magic
of the moment.
Leo the lion walked towards the river.
He felt grumpy and yawned noisily.
For two days he had not caught any food and he was hungry, very hungry.
Stopping, he sniffed at the air, his ears pricking up. Stiffening with excitement, his heart
pounding, he licked his lips. With his
stomach rumbling hungrily, he crouched low and crawled stealthily towards a
swaying shadow.
When he came close to the riverbank he jerked to a halt and watched in
amazement. In the dim light he saw a
young giraffe, her eyes closed, swaying gently to and fro. With saliva dripping from his mouth, Leo
gave a deep-throated growl of satisfaction and leapt forward.
At that moment, Ibala, coming to the end of
her dance, stopped, splayed out her front legs, and dropped her long neck to
the ground as if in a curtsy.
Because of her sudden ducking movement, Leo, instead of being able to
sink his large teeth into her long neck, flew through the air over her, and
fell with a thud to the ground, hitting his head on a stone. In a daze, and with a roar like thunder, he
leapt to his feet.
From fear, Ibala froze to the spot.
Then she heard the sound of galloping hooves, many hooves.
Leo, about to charge again, stopped when her mother rushed forward,
followed by the rest of the herd.
Seeing he was outnumbered, he took fright
and disappeared into the safety of the bushes.
Shaking with fear, Ibala slowly rose to her feet and stared into her mother’s
large, sad eyes. ‘You disobeyed me,’
she said.
Ibala felt bad for disobeying her mother.
But her mother was kind and wise.
She forgave Ibala when she realised how desperately she longed to dance
in the moonlight and she pleaded with the other giraffes, young and old, to
come to the river whenever the moon was full to watch Ibala dance.
At first they protested for giraffes were not known to be interested in
dancing, but Ibala’s mother was very persuasive and soon they looked forward to
the bright moonlit evenings to watch Ibala do her dance.
And to this day, if you should be in Izinzwani on a clear moonlight
night, come to the bank of the river and you may see a giraffe, no longer
young, swaying to and fro in the strange whispering sound of the music of the
wind in the rushes.
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The art of Owen Owen & the stories of Phyllis Owen
