Gogosoa stood up with great difficulty.
'When I look around this fire I am happy. This turnout proves that we, despite our differences as Caapmen, recognise there is a problem.'
'We are here to deal with our common enemy. We must take back the land of the Caapmen,' interrupted the leader of the Gorachouquas.
'Our land. Choro,' he responded to the interruption, beating his bare chest.
Choro, lifted his assegai in agreement. A multitude of teeth threaded into a necklace hung around his neck. As the leader of the Gorachouquas commonly known as the tobacco thieves around the Peninsula, he was capable of a fair amount of of mischief, and dubious ally.
'Choro brought enough tobacco to keep our pipes burning for which I am pleased, for a long night awaits.'
Choro was in high spirits. 'To be of service to my chief is my life's mission,' he replied. 'For tonight, I, Choro traded for only the best green weed my tobacco could buy.' On his nod one of his men placed the bundle of weed at Gogosoa's feet.
'I thank you and the Gorachouquas for this gift of daccha. It is most appreciated on an occasion like this.'
Another figure did not escape Gogosoa's observation. Autsumao was unusually sour. It was glaring that he came only with his sons and a few of his closest advisors, bearing no gifts.
Autshumao's exterior was stoic, hostile even, despite being shown up by Choro's public display of generosity with a sought-after commodity among the Caapmen. Whether he felt the sting of Gogosa's veiled discontent was uncertain until he spoke. 'Times are hard. I have many mouths to feed. Dwindling cattle supplies make no allowance for generosity. Not anymore.'
Autshumao's response, abrupt and laced with sarcasm, caused a stir of muffled murmurs. By the time he sat down it had morphed into a silence trembling with unspoken thoughts and pensive sighs. Autsumao was the bad omen, the pariah that invited the uncomfortable silence that hung around the fire. This silence prompted Gogosoa to beckon one of his warriors to put more wood on the fire.
When the young warrior settled into his spot alongside Nommoa, the fat chief resumed. 'You can no longer trade cattle with them. Not anymore. It is time we stop feeding them and their ships from our land, and our cattle.'
'We are not ready, Gogosoa. For now we must keep them out of the interior. Imprison them behind the walls of that fort. Under our eyes. We must see them. We must hear them. We must know their plans. Most important. They must remain dependent on us for cattle.'
'And that will make them go home?'
Autshumao nodded. 'It is simple. No cattle, no meat for the ships, or them.' He grimaced, lifted his assegai and shouted. 'Starvation or dependence. The choice is the Commander's.'
Gogosoa shook his head. 'They are already sending their men on expeditions into the interior. They have built up alliances for cattle and sheep. Your plan is as weak as a newborn human. Your friendship with your brothers in the interior are not strong. They have cattle as numerous as their blades of grass. They will not fall in line with your plan.'
Autshumao was not convinced. 'We know this land. We can make sure those expeditions are not successful.'
Gogosoa studied the older men who were sitting close to the fire. Most sucked on their pipes while staring into the flames. Their faces revealed nothing to guide the opposition coming from Autshumao. Instead, they stroked their grey beards and sucked on their pipes as if they were alone, in a different place. The younger men stood on the outside of the circle, listening.
It was, yet again, Choro who caused a diversion. He jumped up, spear raised above his head up. He began dancing and the rest of his men joined him. When they came to the end of their war song-and-dance routine, he pierced the air with a defiant upward motion of his spear. 'We must take up the assegai and drive it through their hearts. Then we must burn their farms to the ground.' He turned to Autshumao. 'I do not like your plan. It has no-' He thought for a split second, face creased in search of the appropriate word. 'Kick. Fire. Adventure.' His animated hand and face gestures elicited the desired reaction. When the laughter died down he was a portrait of concern once again. 'I am behind you, Gogosoa. We are ready to take back our land.' He sneered. 'But, unlike our old neighbour, there,' he said and pointed with his assegai to Autshumao, 'I want confrontation. Blood. Fire. Smoke. And if I fight I want benefits.'
'Benefits? Lay your plan in a straight line, Choro,' demanded Gogosoa. 'There can be no talk of benefits if we fight for our land.'
'Not yet, you mean.'
'We, all the Caap en benefit from the land, the sea, the sky and the animals.'
'There is much to gain from those farms... And who knows what treasures awaits behind the walls of that fort...'
This time it was Autshumao who raised his annoyance. 'If their lands and houses are burnt down the tobacco burns down. Everything goes back to how it used to be. Before they came. You have grown greedy eyes.'
Choro took offence to the insult. 'To fight a thief, you must think like a thief and I say, thrash their lands with their own cattle. Take their tobacco. For our benefit. Take their cattle. For our benefit. Take their slaves and sell them to the daccha growers for more tobacco. For our benefit.' He pushed out his chest, his face brimming with content.
'Are you suggesting we sell people for their labour to the daccha growers?' The lines of old age changed into deep grooves on Gogosoa's face.
'The growers need labour. They will reward us. Very well. We will never have to trade for daccha anymore.'
'So you already made an agreement with them?'
'No. Of course-'
'I do not believe you. But let me be clear. We do not sell people. We are not them.'
Choro, realising he was too hasty with the revelation of his end game, retreated. 'Our plans can all run together. Autshumao can starve them. I cut off their tobacco and other supplies, ensure they have nothing of value to barter, if they ever get to the interior. Or the ships. But on one thing I will not compromise.'
'Which is?'
'Our plan comes with-' He thought for a couple of seconds, brow creased. 'Extra benefits.'
Gogosoa was growing impatient. 'Again this talk of benefits.' He stamped the earth with his assegai. 'For who? The Gorachouquas? The Goringhaiqua? The Goringhaicona?'
'We stand by our plan. We steal all the tobacco. We take the slaves. Then we burn the farms. Never again will we barter with our cattle for their tobacco. This our land. Our our water. That tobacco grows on our land, with our water.' He turned to his men and laughed. 'Right?'
'Right,' they shouted in unison and lifted their assegais in agreement.
'See? My men understand. The Commander played wolf thinking we are sheep. Do you not see that?' He lifted his head, pushed it upwards with hint of defiance. 'We heard Autshumao's plan. If the Goringhaiqua have a better plan, speak now.'
Autshumao's, unable to swallow his disdain for Choro leapt to his feet, spear clutched. 'This battle is much more than tobacco, or selling slaves for daccha. If we lose this fight with the Dutch we might never sit as we do tonight. This enemy is more patient than the vulture. They are like their brandy and tobacco that warm the spirits at night, but sting like the bee in the morning.' Laughter. 'When they want our cattle they give us copper, and wire and beads.' Many nodded their heads. 'We take their copper, wire and beads and travel inland to sell their goods for more cattle. Why do we do all this?' Silence. 'To supply the visitors with cattle in exchange for more copper, beads, and wire. How long will our cattle last if this continues? Their demands grow faster than our cattle and the grass.' His gaze shifted across the varied faces and paused on Gogosoa. Their eyes met. 'We do not have enough land to graze our animals because they claimed the best.' There was an eruption of nodding, the clicking sounds of many tongues, and murmuring. 'The Dutch are here to stay. Yes, I will admit. This enemy's gifts deceived us. Me too. Now we crave their tobacco and their brandy. We make useless gifts with beads and Copper...'
'But a good hunter can tell the hiss of the cobra above the sound of the wind. And a good hunter moves with speed to kill it before his poison takes his strength. The Commander declared themselves the masters over our land. It is time we take it back. No more bartering with the Commander, Autshumao. Nommoa has a plan. Together we will drive the Dutch into the sea.' Many heads, assegais and bows agreed with Gogosoa.
Autshumao was not convinced. 'You speak with the voice of Gogosoa but the mind of Nommoa. Nommoa is full of fire like the guns and the brandy of the Dutch.' He turned to Nommoa. 'I, too, know the enemy. I, too, was in Batavia,' he said before he turned his attention back to Gogosoa.
'You have done or said nothing here that assures me that you are on our side. You, Autshumao must rid your tongue of the thistles in your mouth before we proceed.'
'Nommoa has the heart of the elephant but he lacks the sense of the monkey.' He spit the leaves he had been chewing on the ground next to him and stared into the contorted face of Nommoa.
'My chief, Autshumao has wounded my person. Rules dictate that I defend my honour.'
Gogosoa put his hand up, gesturing to Nommoa to back down.
'Let Autshumao speak.'
'A woman wounded Nommoa's sight. Ask him about it.' The men laughed while the old man and the young hunter's eyes burned with disdain for each other. 'I no longer possess the swiftness of leg, but I have the wisdom of age and I, Autshumao's of the Goringhaicona, I value the lives and the future of my people.' He cast an extended gaze around the faces of the men. 'Not even the cheetah can outrun this enemy. And the assegai and the arrow are not strong enough against their guns. The Dutch are more powerful than the warrior and the assegai. Their weapon spit fire. It can kill the lion. It can kill us.' Without ado he sat down next to his two trusted advisors.
Nommoa waited for permission to speak. When he got the nod, he proceeded. 'Autshumao had few followers and no cattle when the Dutch came. He scavenged on the shore and the rocks to feed himself. Look at him now... His herd is growing bigger and bigger, and so is family and his followers. Because he benefits from his trade with them. We all know he and that lickspittle of a Krotoa are slaves of the Dutch. They are to blame for all our troubles.'
'Enough,' intervened Gogosoa. 'You, Nommoa have answered your accuser. Both of you have forgotten that we do not always get what we want, but that should never justify an assault on a fellow Caapman. On the matter of a woman who blinded my warrior, I remain in darkness. Autshumao, take the blindfold from my eyes and renew my sight on this matter you are seized with.'
'I, Autshumao of the Goringhaicona, will not be dragged into a war with the Dutch with dishonest motives in our hearts.' He pointed to Nommoa. 'His heart.'
'Bring your case against Nommoa, and let us hear from his lips if you speak truth. Then we will decide.'
'Your young cub will cause the downfall of our people.'
'And you make this prediction based on what?'
'There is a one-ear slave that came on the ship with him across the big water. Word spread that he treated her on the voyage and saved her life.'
'Tsui expects that of us. So?'
'A while back the same slave was tied to a tree and whipped for making falsehoods against the Dutch. He was seen tending to her wounds at night.'
'And, where is the problem? I do not see anything wrong with that.'
'Nommoa is seeking revenge for what they have done to the slave. And this war he wants, this war is his revenge.'
Gogosoa instructed Nommoa to step into the circle. 'What have you to say about this accusation that you want a war to revenge a woman, a slave, I have no knowledge of?'
'Autshumao speaks the truth about me helping the slave woman. But he is wrong about the revenge. She has nothing to do with my feelings towards the Dutch, my mighty chief. Or our plan to take back our land. Batavia changed my heart and opened these eyes about people like them.' He gripped his assegai tighter. 'In Batavia these eyes saw people who lived off the land and the forests, just like us.' He waved his hand around the circle. 'They, like us, lived free. Now they are all slaves of the Dutch. It is happening to us as we meet here. They brought hundreds of slaves who are dying of hunger, cold and chickenpox every day. These eyes saw it. That disease that can wipe out our people in less than one winter. And then? These people do not work with their own hands, and one day, when they have no more slaves, our people will be their slaves.' He turned and faced Autshumao. 'Just like him and Krotoa.'
Autshumao stamped the ground with the handle of his assegai. 'You know the truth, and I know the truth. You can go around making everyone believe you hear the voice of Tsui above the thunder, just as you walked around with the Bible of the Dutch preaching about their God. I tell you this, as sure as the day follow night, you, Nommoa of the Goringhaiqua, will bring ruin on our people. That is what I saw in my dreams.'
Nommoa assumed an attacking position, assegai in one hand, poised to lunge at the elderly man at the slightest provocation. Autshumao responded. Their swift feet moved with calculated steps, hardly touching the ground. Around and around, they circled each other, muscles flexed, assegais ready to strike as the sparks of the fire dissipated against the darkness of the night. Eyes fixed on each other, backs hunched, their bare feet treaded the earth in the solemn presence of the crackling, sputtering flames.
Gogosoa intervened. 'Nommoa, Autshumao, this is not how we settle differences.'
Nommoa lowered his assegai and stepped backwards. One step at a time. Back hunched. He finally settled into a relaxed position, but his eyes cut into Autshumao.
Gogosoa addressed Nommoa. 'Is this true? Has this slave cast a shadow over your judgment? Over your eyes and heart?'
'It is not true. I want the Dutch gone and our grazing land back.'
Autshumao grunted. He retreated to his men and stood in front of them, facing Gogosoa. 'There was always enough warmth around your fire for me and my people. Tonight, there was not. You are in great danger from the young ones. They are in a haste to get rid of the old. I warn you, Gogosoa. The cub does not lead the pride. My plan for my people is mine, and of a more mature nature,' he said and looked at Nommoa who was standing among the rest of the warriors behind Gogosoa. 'I will follow my own plan,' He gathered his things from the ground and, without looking back they disappeared into the night.