The Strongest

Two hundred and fifty-eight warriors stand looking down to their slumbering village on top of a small rocky hill, they wore low waist cowhide clothing, mist dancing between them and air so cold their breath turned to ice as it left their lips. Day broke through tough darkness falling light over the dry and harsh savannah, home of the Maasai.

Benjamin the elder of the il - taarrosero clan walked uphill towards the two hundred in the company of four elders, heads of the five Maasai clans. This day marked a traditional tribal ritual that sees a young Maasai ascend to elder status. All two hundred warriors from the five clans were smeared in rosy cow blood and fat covering them head to toe and ready to serve.

The five elders went around inspecting the masses while in the back, a shift in the lineup brought a commotion while a brick of a man moved farther in to get closer to the elders. Vincent Wameo, a chocolate skin warrior built like a tank, arms and legs the size of tree trunks, face covered with bushy beards, looking up at those around him, too unusually short for his tribe.

At the age of ten, while out herding with close friends, Vincent dared to walk up to a cow and smack her on her hide. Two perfectly timed heel kicks to his chest left him with a deep scar and a light wheezing bubble when he draws out breath occasionally. At age fourteen, he had a run-in with local mad dogs who thought it wise to ambush their cattle walk. Thirty cows, five shepherds and a wild pack of seventeen carnivals, Vincent walked out of that chapter with several bitemarks scarring him with a walking limp at the cost of a young calf, this happened over thirteen years ago.

The elders concluded their inspection, returning to face the warriors. Benjamin stepped forward.

"Good morning to you all, as you are aware this is to be your eunoto ceremony and I hope you are also aware of why it has been decided by the elders to unite the clans for one ceremony. For those in the dark, our elder with no clan, elder Bobby Koinet is dead and so we have gathered to search for his replacement."

A buzz in the air erupted following those words, warriors eagerly excited talking amongst themselves, eyes already looking forward to the price.

"You will be taking part in four tasks to be completed by end of the day tomorrow and the one deemed worthy will become the elder with no clan." Benjamin said his last.

Denver Nalanga broke out of line and walked up to Vincent.

"Vincent! You believe that, an elder with no clan? Everyone is very excited." Denver said.

"Too bad for them, they will have to try again after I'm dead." Vincent said with a wide arrogant smile across his face.

"What's happening with you?" Denver asked.

Vincent simply smiled, preparing himself as he sharpened his spearhead.

"You are not interested in being elder." Denver remarked.

"That was before the position of elder with no clan was open. Do you have any idea the weight the title holds?"

"Wealth, power." Denver said, listing his heart's desire.

"Strongest, the elder with no clan is the strongest warrior of the tribe. To hold the title would mean I am the strongest." Vincent said.

"You are a man with a long dark tunnel vision Vincent." a skyscraper of a man said, walking up to Vincent and Denver in a party of three.

"Arati!"

"Hear this, you are a big problem and not as smart. There is no way a man like you will be elder with no clan. Only the purest good-hearted can be, one willing to serve his people from a distance. It takes more than thick arms and a dumbbell brain to lead." Arati said.

"Then put your money where your mouth is. If I win you have to declare for the rest of your life that I am better than you in every regard." Vincent said.

"And if I win?"

"Forget it Arati, you will come second to me."

Vincent walked off confident that in a sea of numbers, he was going to be the one.

The villagers came out a quarter past seven with neighbouring villages walking up to support their clan warriors, their cheers ripping over the bellows of cows as they hammered their toes on wet proven grounds. The first task was underway, a forty-two kilometres marathon run across tough, piercing hill track on their bare feet.

Vincent was past the halfway mark in a sweating limping run. He spent the first half burning his strength in order to get ahead of everyone else, this worked well for about two hours, building a massive gap advantage but now the backpack was closing in and with another two hours to go, he was on the ropes.

Emmanuel Asiimwe was the first to get past three hours into the race, seven more flew by, and by the time Vincent was crossing over the finish line, he was faded, worn out and in eleventh place.

"Well then, you have all made it to the second task and are in contention to be the next elder with no clan, congratulations. The next task will be conducted in the head boma hut and it will carry on in the order you have finished the race. Kieran Saimiti, you are up first, follow us." Benjamin said, leading Kieran and the elders away.

After Leboo Mata, Vincent was next, he walked into a mud hut, walls lined with horns, masks, shields and lion heads worn by previous clan elders. The current elders sat at an open round table giving off an intimidating aura of presence. Vincent stood silent as the elders murmured amongst themselves.

"Vincent Wameo." Benjamin was the first to speak.

"Yes."

"Of il - taarrosero clan."

"Yes."

"So tell me, why do you want this title?"

"To be the strongest. The elder with no clan is regarded as the best fighter of the tribe, they fight armies, fight giants and can beat the five elders single-handedly. I want to be the strongest so this title is mine, mark my words." Vincent said.

"You think you are going to win?" Shalom Mingati, the elder of il - aiser asked.

"Yes, I am."

"You must know what role the exiled elder does?" Shalom asked.

"They are spies, working outside the tribe for the betterment of his people. They are the first and last line of defence, an elder that walks alone for the good of his men." Vincent said.

"Okay, what will you do if you were to become the exiled elder?" Benjamin asked.

"I will do what is required of me, no excuses."

The elders were satisfied with his answers ushering Vincent out of the room.

The sun began to set as the elders stepped out for the third task of the day. Villagers came for the thrills, enclosing two hundred and fifty-eight warriors and a herd of bulls in a circle. The task ahead, a wrestling match between warrior and enraged bull and only those who are able to rope their beast down would move on to the final task.

One by one they stepped up, each warrior tackling a beast as the yelling screaming crowds washed away the bellows and beating hearts of both animal and man alike. the third warrior took a dangerous hit but recovered nicely, the sixth was pulled out after suffering a headbutt strike to the skull and Arati in tenth took so long the bull practically handed himself over to end their match.

Vincent was next, walking down to the pit with only a rope, the lightest-wielding warrior thus far. His bull came out strong, charging straight at his target while Vincent jumped to the side, avoiding a hit and grabbing the Bull by the horn with his left hand. The bull shook his head furiously, dragging Vincent with him but Vincent held on, refusing to give up, waiting until the bull lifted his front leg for Vincent to try dropping the bull with a leg kick. The bull however got his balance to avoid the trip, his eyes sinking on his opponent.

The two were locked in a stalemate, each combatant thinking of the next step, eyes focused on before the bull moved to get away hoping to rash Vincent off his hold. Vincent was quick, a swift kick to the front leg dropped the bull to the ground and he moved fast to rope the front legs in one-knot and manage to get out of the way of a kick to the head.

The bull jumped back onto his two hide legs, Vincent's left hand holding steady on the horn and right hand on the rope. All Vincent did next was hold the struggling bull until the bull was out of strength and five minutes later, he simply pushed a defeated bull backwards to the ground, tying up all four legs for the win.

Bright and early the following day, one hundred and thirty-four warriors and five elders stood in a ring of spectators awaiting the final task. In front of them was an open field with trays of ropes, knives, spears, clubbing sticks and shields, enough weapons for each warrior's choosing. Benjamin steps forward to speak.

"Today we will announce a new elder to join our ranks. Complete the task before you and you are on your way to the duty and honour of an elder with no clan. All you have to do is single-handedly catch a lion. The tasks asked of the exiled elder are as difficult as tackling a lion so good luck, take your time and for those who fail to make it back by sunset, don't end up a lion's dinner."

Vincent departed in eleventh place to a lone and quiet spot, hiding low to the earth, covered with tall dry grass. This was his home, his land and he knew best when to trap his prey, never in the morning or night hours, this is when lions go out hunting. Evening they rest to conserve energy sending lioness for scout duties which is a bad time to hunt a lion as there is no creature more fearsome than a lioness. Hence the best bet is to wait for a young lion searching for new pride lands to call home during mid-hours and Vincent knew exactly where to go.

A small tiny mane lion walked up, sniffing the soil around him. He picked up on a faint scent several kilometres back and decided lunchtime was to come a bit early this day. The scent led the young lion to Vincent and once he was close enough, his nose above Vincent's toes, Vincent threw a giant net over the beast.

He dived in, clubbing the lion on his head over and over while the beast tried to untangle himself from his fate. One blow caught the lion's eye, another above his ear which irritated the beast the more, forcing Vincent to change tactics, jumping over his prey to apply a neck hold. The two rolled across hot grounds both unwilling to give up, their fight lasting nine minutes until the lion dropped down cold.

Fifteen warriors reported back with a lion with one of the said lions requiring a group to pin it down, two lions were missing limbs and bleeding out and five were fatal. The group hunt lion and wounded lion owners were immediately disqualified or as Benjamin put it.

"An elder with no clan works alone and is in the service to preserve life not offer death."

And only three warriors who came with live lions moved on to the jury phase where Vincent won the right to be named exiled elder for placing in eleventh during the first task.

There is a beverage revered for its ritualistic properties, a mixture of cow blood, milk and fat used for major ceremonies in the Maasai culture, one of which is the ascension of a warrior to elder. This drink comes in a red thick pigmentation, not green which is what Vincent was offered to drink. He stepped forward in a ferrari shuka, beaded necklaces, iron earrings and iron headband.

"Vincent Wameo, son of Zuri Wameo, you come to us a warrior from the il - taarrosero clan and leave an elder with no clan. After tonight you take your leave, be exiled and never step foot in these lands again. You will do good by your tribe until your last day and only in death will you be allowed home." Benjamin said.

After the ceremony, Vincent was escorted out under arms by his own people. Crowds lined up behind him repeatedly driving their spear ends to the ground. Vincent took his leave, turning over his shoulder to look at the land he once called home for twenty-seven years from birth, leaving behind family and friends forever.

After five hours of walking on a cold dark night, the sky moonless and winds icing the hair off his back, Vincent froze up trying to make his way to the nearest town. He had no additional clothes or money and adding on this is his first time away from his village. He was tired, hungry and cursing the night away when his stomach gave a bubbling turn.

He thought he was going to run on himself, his stomach driving him insane until his bones snapped, growing longer inside his flesh, his chest opening wide, cracks popping under his ribcage. His skin turned brown, furry and tough, his nails grew out bleeding out into claws and his eyes and forehead crashed in, the night becoming more clear and bright. Vincent went down on all fours, his screams turning into growls, a whiff of air told him where food was this night and he set off a big and strong lion.