The more Metutu found out about work, he realized that good feelings were a small part of every job. That more often than not there were other feelings--weariness, perspiration, and sometimes boredom. As he began helping his brother Makedde, he expected to feel as good as he did giving his dinner to Wajoli. But after the initial burst of pride, he took a full dose of reality. Metutu was not yet skilled, and so he was most useful doing hard labor, freeing up Makedde for his thriving medical practice.
Campa root was a valuable resource in shamanic medicine. It was also easy to recognize and almost indestructible. This made gathering Campa a great way to break in a new apprentice.
Metutu kept repeating to himself one of the verses that helped him remember what he was after:
After nearly three hours of pulling Campa, he had a very large stack of leaves to discard, and a precious small hoard of root tips. It was almost more than he could bear to see how little of a gourd he could fill with the prize.
Disgusted with himself and his job, Metutu headed back for lunch, half decided to quit. He walked into the baobab. “Brother, we need to talk.”
“Just a moment.” Makedde was busy with a small mandrill child. “Open your mouth, son.”
The boy gaped open. “Ah, I see. Is it sore around here?”
“Ahh haa,” the boy said.
“But it isn’t making you cough?”
“Ahh ahh.”
“Fine. You can close now.” Makedde smiled. “It’s a sore throat, and not serious at that. We’ll give you something for the discomfort, and maybe even a pinch of Tiko Root. You like that?”
“Yes sir!”
Makedde rubbed the boy’s head affectionately. “Jamala, you make sure he takes three of these crushed in a cup of water every morning, highsun and evening for pain. Two days worth should do it, but if it’s still bothering him, you know where to find me.” He got a sprig of Tiko root and handed it to the boy. “Aren’t you growing like a weed! Soon, I’ll have to look up to see you eye to eye!”
The boy laughed and chomped down on his Tiko root.
When they were gone, Makedde looked to Metutu. “I don’t know how I’d get it all in without your help!” He took the gourd. “That’s a lot of Campa root. Are you sure that was empty when you got it?”
“Yes, brother.”
“Impressive. Now what did you want to talk with me about?”
Metutu smiled shyly. “I forgot. I guess it wasn’t that important.”