Mwindo was born walking and talking, a magic fly-whisk in his hand. His father Shemwindo abandoned him on the day he was born. Now grown, Mwindo stands at the village edge — his mother's tears behind him, the road to his father's land ahead, with dragons, ogres, and the mouth of the underworld along the way. On the eve of departure he spins the fly-whisk in his palm. Who does he face first?