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    Zenzele's Quest: Journey to the Far Mountains
    Zenzele's Quest: Journey to the Far Mountains
    Zenzele's Quest: Journey to the Far Mountains
    Ebook89 pages1 hour

    Zenzele's Quest: Journey to the Far Mountains

    By Ann de Ruig

    ()

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    About this ebook

    I am a retired Children's Librarian, living in
    these magnificent mountains.
    I often sit in the garden and wonder who
    had lived here in the past and how they had
    survived.
    My story is an attempt to link the past and the
    present and satisfy my curiosity.
    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherXlibris UK
    Release dateSep 30, 2011
    ISBN9781465359728
    Zenzele's Quest: Journey to the Far Mountains

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      Book preview

      Zenzele's Quest - Ann de Ruig

      ZENZELE

      SOMETHING WOKE ME earlier than usual that morning. I couldn’t see anything in my room, so I slipped into my slops, picked Mister up from the bed and crept quietly outside so as not to wake Mme and Tate. Mister is a stuffed monkey that I have had all my life. I had called him Mister because he had seemed so big and wise when I was little.

      The full moon hadn’t set yet and it was bright in the garden. As I neared my favourite tree I caught a glimpse of movement in the branches. I had to crouch under the low outer branches to see up into the centre of the tree. There was a large owl struggling to free its wing from something.

      Jo, jo, jo. The poor thing is caught in the tail of my old kite. Tate told me to climb up and get it down and I forgot. Now look.

      This was a problem. I was afraid to climb up in case the bird attacked me and I didn’t think our ladder was tall enough. Think, child. Think.

      I had a brilliant idea. If I fetched our avocado picking pole from the shed, perhaps I could reach up and cut the rope.

      Hang on, Owl, I’m coming, I shouted.

      I opened the shed door quietly and looked about inside. Ah, there it was leaning against the back wall.

      I hadn’t appreciated how heavy it was and struggled to carry it to the tree. It wasn’t long enough. OK, if I leaned the old ladder against the trunk, perhaps I could reach the owl.

      Back to the shed to bring the ladder. Eish, but it was heavy and unwieldy. Unless I held it exactly in the middle it tipped and tripped me. After a few falls I had it leaning against the tree and attempted to climb up holding the avo pole. I didn’t think I could manage this. I should wake Tate and ask him to free the owl. No. My name is Zenzele, the self-determined one. I CAN do it myself.

      With the pole still resting on the ground I climbed the first few steps and when I was balanced I lifted it up onto the next step. This was scary. I felt very insecure but I found that if I rested the pole on a lower step before climbing to the next one, I was able to reach the top.

      The owl was quiet now and holding on to the rope with its talons to take some of the strain off its wing. It watched me intently with its big orange eyes.

      Hello, Owl. I will soon have you free. Please don’t be angry.

      I leaned against the tree trunk and placed the end of the pole against my tummy. That didn’t feel too bad, but it was difficult pushing the pole through the branches until I had it almost to the rope above the owl. Gently now. I don’t want to hurt you, Owl.

      One last wiggle and I had the scissors in place. The owl was quite still. With a wrench I pulled on the rope from the scissors and tugged. Snap and the owl dropped into the bag.

      Hooray. I did it.

      That was fine, but now I had to climb back down the ladder and free the owl. One slow step at a time. I reached the ground and sat on the bottom step with the pole across my knees.

      I took a deep breath and counted to ten, but couldn’t wait any longer to lift the owl out. It didn’t struggle at all and in no time I had its wing free and felt it for any breaks. No apparent damage.

      It flapped both wings a few times and took off.

      There you go, Owl. And be more careful next time.

      It turned its head to stare at me. It was your fault the kite was there in the first place.

      I looked up to see if it was in the tree, but it had gone.

      Did it really talk to me? Perhaps I was still asleep and would wake soon, still in bed. I wanted to rush inside and tell my parents. But what would they say if I told them an owl had spoken to me? And Tate would be angry that I hadn’t removed the remains of the old kite. Mme was already worried that I spent too much time in the mountains with the animals. I didn’t think this would make her happy.

      I waited outside for a while in case the owl returned, but everything was quiet and the sun was now shining through the fur of the monkey troop that came across the shed roof every morning to see if I had left them any bread scraps.

      Zenzele, where are you? Your tea is ready.

      Coming, Mme.

      I lived in the hope that the owl would return, but although I heard them calling from the palm trees down the drive, they didn’t talk to me.

      EARLIER

      I WAS BORN IN a village some miles away. We had lived on the farm for only three years. When land in the mountains had become part of the government’s land claim plan, Tate had put in an offer to the tribe and was happy when it had been accepted My parents had worried that I would be sad at leaving the village and my friends. Farm life was so different.

      In the village, people talked, shouted, fought and continually yelled at the children. The taxis’ hooters blared to attract passengers, music rolled out of the houses and stores, dogs barked and children shrieked their joy as they rushed about chasing balls and one another. Hawkers were busy trying to attract customers. Cars were being washed and hair cut in the dusty streets. There were always queues at the village taps as people came daily to collect their drums and bottles of water. Some of the luckier residents even had wheelbarrows to cart their 20 litre drums home. The taps provided a noisy meeting place and the queues continued until well after dark.

      Until we had moved it was the only life I had known, noisy, crowded and happy. Life on the farm was a complete contrast. As an only child I could have been lonely and unhappy, especially as I had had to change schools.

      It had been difficult in the beginning to adjust to being in a school that reflected every shade of the rainbow nation. After a while I had formed a friendship with Lucy who lived nearby. Everyone on the mountain was

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