The Headhunter's Daughter Read Online Free Page A

his chest or it might explode. And suddenly Mother was in the hut as well, along with Iron Sliver, and the two of them were rolling on the floor at Father’s feet. The women shrieked with laughter.
    “What is so funny?” Headhunter’s Daughter demanded. “Why do you act like hyenas when I am to be married to that ?”
    “That,” Father said, as he gasped for breath, “is your mother’s oldest brother, and he does not truly seek your hand in marriage. Believe me, daughter, I would have insisted upon a better dowry than this.”
    “Much better,” Mother said, finally coming to her senses.
    “Perhaps that male goat and my husband could find happiness together,” Iron Sliver said.
    That brought gales of laughter from everyone, and even Headhunter’s Daughter couldn’t help but join in the fun. But after that male goat had been paired up with a number of people in the village, and even the duck had found an unlikely mate, it was time to move on.
    “Enough,” Father said. “This was but a joke, daughter, but the time is coming very soon when I will pick a real husband for you. When that time comes, you must abide by my decision. You must go to live with him. Do you understand?”
    “But Father, I do not want a husband; I want to stay here. I am still just a girl.”
    Iron Sliver was not able to help herself. “You have breasts!”
    “ Kah , they are but little buds,” Mother said. “Still, daughter, it is time.”
    “Go!” Father said. “Both of you. Let my daughter be.”
    As the Headhunter’s Daughter sat on the log bench and thought about her day, a heavy sadness settled over her. No matter how long it took for Father to choose a husband, her childhood was officially over. Now it was a matter of waiting for the day when she would sleep in another man’s hut and let him have her as one dog has another. Then along would come pain, babies, death, more pain, and then more babies.
    At her feet one of the dogs snarled and looked pointedly toward the bush, as if it had heard some threatening sound. The Headhunter’s Daughter knew exactly what the threatening sound was; it was the dread she felt of having to leave the only home she’d ever known. It was coalescing. It was coming together, taking on the shape of a great beast, coming to carry her off to some distant place.
    Amanda Brown preferred to take her breakfasts on the east side of the guesthouse. That way she could hear the sounds from the village as it woke up; the laughter of women, the cries of babies, the thud of heavy wooden pestles in heavy wooden mortars, the bleating of glassy-eyed goats, and the latent crowing of cocks—in fact, Congo cocks never knew when to shut up. Amanda especially enjoyed hearing the call of the solitary francolins, a wild fowl-like bird that lived in the strip of savannah that separated the guesthouse from the village. What tasty birds they were too; much better than chicken.
    Then, of course, there was the matter of the falls. As dramatic as the west view was, it came with a price. One simply could not have a decent first conversation with all that distraction, not to mention the noise.
    But when she stepped out onto the east terrace that Wednesday morning, in October of 1958, the table was utterly bare and there was no sign of the staff.
    “Protruding Navel,” she called heading toward the kitchen. Immediately she regretted doing so, for her tone had been a little too sharp. Think twice before you say anything, her mother always said, and Mama was a well-bred Southern belle who never misspoke. Mama certainly would never have raised her voice to the help.
    Amanda started to the kitchen at a fast clip, but stopped short when, looking through the large window that faced the mighty Kasai River, she saw a scene that nearly made her blood boil. There, on the western terrace, sitting as comfortably as three big cheeses, were the missionaries she’d checked in the night before. Why, the nerve of those people! And what was