In a village called Nzalangoyi, the chief Mbwangoyi lived with his wives and their many children. He owned vast tracts of fertile, game-filled lands, savannahs, and parcels of forest inherited from his grandparents. The region he managed included other villages besides his own. He bore his name well, Chief Mbwangoyi, known and respected throughout the region, a name that echoed the powerful tones of his voice. Mbwa denoted the cascading rain that accompanies the thundering of the sky, and Ngoyi the leopard with a black or mottled coat. Mbwangoyi, noble and cunning like a feline, knew how to decisively settle debates with verve and dexterity. He managed his family and governed those who lived on his lands with justice and flexibility.
But one day, an event occurred that would bend the course of destiny. As was tradition, anyone who hunted on another's lands was required to give a leg of game to the landowner. That day, a group of men from a neighboring village no longer wanted the landed nobility, comfortably resting on their privileges, to enjoy the fruits of others' efforts. In the dim light of a hut, they concocted their criminal plan: on the cold surface of a table, they laid out the carcass of Séri, the blue antelope. They had caught her during the last hunt. They gutted her and smeared her flesh with the deadly juices of a poisonous vine.
– Chief Mbwangoyi will get more than a leg of meat this time, we are going to offer him death on a well-filled leaf platter!