Ululation in the Shadows

*Day 16*

Ululation in the Shadows

When I reached the place,

We were bound to carved stools,

In the heart of a round kraal— 

Its walls were stone, 

Like the elder’s hut, 

But the air did not choke.

Ten handspans high, 

Encircling the sacred space, 

Slits of light pierced through barred windows. 

I knew this was the chief’s tower, 

The one I glimpsed

 Beyond the crocodile moat.

Then came the first whip’s crack— 

A thunderclap across the drum-tight silence. 

The bitter herbs aged in fire, 

Their scent rises like ancestral smoke. 

In the shadows,

I heard the mad ululation 

Of Pettibone’s twisted joy.