Chaka spoke my doom. Death chooses for himself and answers no

questions; he is a guest to whom none need open the door of his hut,

for when he wills he can pass through the thatch like air. Not yet

would I taste of that medicine of mine.

So I lived on, my father, and the soldiers led me back to the kraal of

Chaka. Now when we came to the kraal it was night, for the sun had

sunk as we passed through the gates. Still, as he had been commanded,

the captain of those who watched me went in before the king and told