The Headhunter's Daughter Read Online Free

bench next to the family’s outdoor hearth. Even though her father’s sling-back chair was vacant, she had no desire to upset the rightful order of things and try it out for comfort; she wished only to think. And there was so much to think about that it made her head ache. Her stomach churned as well.
    This same afternoon an old man by the name of Gizzard had arrived from the neighboring village of Musoko. He’d come unannounced, heading straight to her father’s compound. The old man was disgusting to behold: he had no teeth; no hair except for what was on his back; his limbs were spindly and yet his belly was just as round as that of a woman who is about to give birth. The old man reeked of decay, and when he spoke, spittle flew in all directions.
    “I have heard that your daughter is approaching marriageable age,” he said.
    “She has yet to bleed,” Father had said, as he motioned to his wife and daughter to go elsewhere.
    Mother had scurried off to visit her friend Iron Sliver in the next hut, but Headhunter’s Daughter ducked into the family hut to make sure she could hear what was being said. In truth, the voices were so loud that afternoon that the girl couldn’t help but think that she was supposed to hear what was being said.
    “What is it that you offer, friend?” Father had asked, without as much as ordering refreshments for the visitor.
    Gizzard was quick to answer. “I have three female goats and a male. True, one of the females is blind and perhaps sterile as well, one is definitely past the age of bearing, but the third goat has only recently borne her fifth kid.”
    “How recently?”
    “Eiyee, so many questions!”
    “And yet I must repeat the question: How recently has this third goat given birth?”
    “Please friend, do not be angry with me when I tell you that this third goat is the mother of the second.”
    As horrified as she was by the conversation, it was all the Headhunter’s Daughter could do to suppress a laugh. So far she was worth three sterile female goats and one male goat.
    “And what about the male goat?” Father said, as if reading her thoughts. “Does he show interest in the act?”
    “Oh yes, friend,” Gizzard gushed. “All the time. And it is my firm belief that with some training you will be able to get him to show this interest in a female goat.”
    “Go home you son of a jackal,” Father said angrily. “You are wasting my time.”
    “But friend, I have at least ten healthy chickens and a white man’s duck. I will confess right now that the duck has only one leg, and thus cannot walk—but it can swim.”
    “I suppose that it swims only in circles,” Father said.
    “ Tch , friend, now you make jokes at a poor man’s expense.”
    There followed a long silence, one so profound that the Headhunter’s Daughter could hear the lizards scurrying up and down inside the walls of the palm thatch hut in pursuit of termites. In the distance the laughter of little children at play suddenly made the girl feel sad.
    “Do you have any cloth?” Father had finally asked.
    “ Cloth? ”
    “European cloth—not our palm-fiber cloth. The kind woven with many colors. My wife is very fond of that. Perhaps if you have some cloth we can come to an agreement. But you must find a replacement for the duck. I know in advance that she will accept only two-legged ducks as dowry payment.”
    “I will find some cloth,” the man named Gizzard said.
    “Then off with you,” Father said rudely.
    The Headhunter’s Daughter had thrown herself across the sleeping platform as she’d choked back the tears. But when Father entered the hut a short time later in search of her, the girl presented him with a placid face. To do anything other than that was simply not in her ken.
    “You heard?” Father asked.
    She nodded.
    “And you believed this?”
    “Father?”
    Father’s laugh began as a rumble in his belly and worked its way up. But soon he was laughing so hard that he had to hold