Metutu’s apology must have worked. As days passed into weeks, and weeks into months, he began to see more of Asumini. From time to time he would hear strange stories about her father, but he discounted them because of his feelings for her.
They had an on-again off-again dating relationship. Usually when it was off-again, he had tried to impress her with some new skill. He almost always failed to do so, for she was very well educated where few mandrill females are. The frustrations she heaped on his struggling male vanity were actually part of her allure to him. With each new failure, she became more desirable, and if he couldn’t impress her with athletic ability or wit, he would pursue more intellectual goals. This would prove to be more of a natural strength for him.
Once he came over to show off what he’d memorized of the Miracle Flower Saga. Because she knew the parts better, she ended up correcting him periodically. It made it difficult for him because the more frustrated he became, the more he forgot. It built on itself.
For a while he was upset, but he grudgingly admired her abilities. He settled back to watch her perform, and paid careful attention.
As she recited verse, her hand gestures melted one into the other with a grace and beauty that made the gods take notice:
She stopped and looked at Metutu’s rapt stare. “Are you all right? Was I doing something wrong?”
“Nothing wrong,” he said slowly. “You were a goddess speaking words as smooth and beautiful as water flowing over stones. They should let you perform for the council.”
“Are you sure it’s my voice you like?”
“Well,” he said hesitantly. “You have special kind of presence too. Your gestures are beautiful. Everything about you is beautiful. Uh, you know what I mean.”
“I know what you mean,” she said, giving him a kiss on the cheek. “You’re very sweet. But if you think that’s something, you should hear me do the leonine ceremony of rising over. I did that for my Auntie Asumini when she died last moon.”
“You did?” He’d never heard of a female doing ceremonies before. “That lioness we’ve always heard about--so she was real?”
“I told you I had a lioness as an Auntie. A second mother was more like it.”
“I’m sorry about your loss. I know you loved her, and it’s sad that you’ll never see her again.”
“Don’t be too sorry, ‘cause when I die, she will be waiting for me. Till then, she is in here.” She put her hand over her heart. “Sometimes she’s out there too! There is no difference in the way God treats us when we die. I follow Aiheu, and believe that all animals are brothers and sisters.”
Metutu was shocked. “You’re an Aiheuist? I always thought you were one of us.”
“One of you?” She smiled. “Everyone is one of you and one of me. We are all one large family. All that divides us is our opinion, but no opinion alters the truth So there is no us and them except in the mind.”
“I guess so,” he said, dubiously. “Did your Aunt Asumini teach you that?”
“I have many good friends who happen to be lionesses.”
“Pfff! Any lions?”
“Only a couple of times ever saw a grown lion, and didn’t get to say much, but their manes are so wonderful. You know, I have a secret desire to hold one around the neck and roll in his mane.”
“You would disappear down his throat in seconds. Maybe two whole bites, if he didn’t swallow you whole.”
“Have you forgotten the leopardess so quickly? Didn’t you see how she did not bite when her honor dictated it? Teeth and claws are sharp, but much more of them is soft and furry.” She sat back against a tree trunk. “They teach you that God is just a bigger one of us. As if one of us could hope to become like Him by simply learning the right spells and overcoming mortality. No. There is a fairness and kindness in Him that is a goal to strive for, but which we could never reach.”
“What does Aiheu look like?”
“Everything and nothing at the same time.”
“Now that makes NO SENSE.”
“Oh? Unlike those who follow the great ape Pishtim, we believe Aiheu is aware of all things and all peoples. Otherwise, how could he hear our prayers? So he must not be an old ape, or he would only be one place at a time. The wind is real, but you don’t see it’s shape. You know it’s there because you feel its effects. And if he is not an old ape, than we apes have no basic superiority unless we choose to ACT superior. And that does not come through trickery or negotiation. It comes through compassion, generosity, and honesty. The traits that make us noble make us more like God. But there are others besides us who have those traits, therefore all animals must be brothers and free to please the gods. And greatness is a matter of the heart, not an accident of birth.”
“That’s a really nice philosophy. You’re as clever as Little Brother Chako!”
“I hope not! Little Brother Chako was a rogue, someone who did not honor his promises. How we could pick someone like that for a hero is a slap in the faces of the gods. When I ask you to make a promise, I expect you to keep it. When you do, I look up to you. Those who treat me honestly are my brothers and sisters, not Little Brother Chako.”
Metutu looked at her in shock, but not outrage. “I bet you spend a lot of time just thinking.”
“You should give it a try, Metutu.”
“As if I never do?”
“I don’t mean it that way. It’s just that the problem with mandrill philosophy is that they teach you WHAT to think, not HOW to think. We’re not supposed to question authority.”
“Whoa! We’ll have to continue this talk sometime.” Metutu went home. He was somewhat thoughtful, for she had made many good points. “All animals are brothers,” he said to himself. “Even the leopardess and I.”
When he reached his home, old Wajoli was waiting for him with a bowl. “Here, Master Metutu, your favorite dish. Elephant Stew.”
Metutu took the bowl and smelled it. “Ah, fresh and sweet. You did well.”
Metutu noticed how Wajoli’s eyes followed the bowl. “Have you eaten yet?”
“No sir. I was running late, so I came straight over here. I’ll take care of you first. When you are finished, if you don’t need me more, I’d like to go scrounge something up.”
“I see.” Metutu held out the bowl. “Scrounge this up. I’ll get something from the orchard.”
“Oh, no sir! If your father found out, he wouldn’t like that.”
“IF he found out. But you can go hide behind those trees.”
“Is it not to your liking?”
“It’s fine. But you know something, Wajoli? If you would be like the gods, you must practice compassion, generosity and honesty. You’ve always done right by me. Now I’m going to do right by you.” He handed the bowl to Wajoli and gave him a little pat. “Enjoy, old friend.”
“I will,” he said. “I’ll enjoy knowing you are the next Chief, even if I don’t live to see it.”
A smile spread across Metutu’s face. He headed for the orchard with a great joy in his heart that was almost too great for words. “Yes! I feel more godlike already!”