The Drum That Called the Wind
The sky over Panyam refused to be blue.
A strange grey hovered like smoke, even though there was no fire.
In the compound of Da Dakyen, Muutfwang sat in silence, staring at the broken staff and the memory of the drum that had thumped once — and called the wind.
He hadn’t told anyone, but ever since leaving Na'Toh’s hut, he had heard faint whispers at night — a chant, deep and slow, echoing behind the walls of his room:
> “Kam Mishkagham Kum... Kam Mishkagham Kum...”
Even the dogs had stopped barking at night.
🌬️ The Wind Arrives
At dawn, a wind began to blow. Not violent — but strange.
It came from the east, cutting across Mangu Ridge, carrying with it dried leaves from trees that weren’t in season, and ash from no fire.
In Mwaghavul tradition, such a wind is called Ku’t Nji — the wind of the spirit. It only comes when something buried is being stirred by ancestral hands.
Elders began to gather.
Katmang Guyil, holding a string of sacred beads, whispered to Muutfwang:
> “This wind is not natural.
It has been summoned.
And it’s looking for a response.”
🥁 The Second Beat
That night, the wind grew louder.
Then — the sound returned.
BOOM.
The cowhide drum that Na'Toh had untied was beating again — even from miles away. Everyone heard it. It echoed across villages:
> Panyam... Pushit... Mangu... Ampang...
The sound carried stories and warnings.
Children cried.
Women placed charms on their doors.
And the elders knew — the spirit that had once been silenced was awake.
⚔️ The Confession of the Drummer
An old man, blind in one eye, arrived at Da Dakyen’s compound the next morning.
His name was Da Kamshak, and he claimed to be the last living assistant drummer of the priesthood, hidden since 1932.
He looked at Muutfwang and said:
> “Your grandfather did not destroy the priesthood.
He buried its shame.
And now, the wind is asking for what was promised.”
Muutfwang stood, confused.
> “Promised?”
Da Kamshak removed a piece of cloth from his walking stick. Etched into the wood was a single name:
Direp Dakyen.
> “Your grandfather once gave a life to spare his own,” he said.
“But the spirit never sleeps... and it remembers.”
🌀 The Wind Turns
As Da Kamshak finished speaking, the wind suddenly stopped.
And then, without warning, the horn of Ngwan Kum — the same one that refused to blow during Da Dakyen’s burial — gave a deep, echoing sound on its own.
No one touched it.
People fell to the ground. Some cried, others ran.
The ancestors had just blown their own horn.
🔚 End of Episode 4
> Next Episode: “When Horns Blow Themselves”
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