Ta-Hawa and the Prejudice

"Straight to business", was Jacob's way of saying good morning. "Today I brought an expert", said Jacob and on queue everywhere was covered in smoke, Makela bellowed and a thud. I sensed an incoming attack from my right, I broke and counted the attack. I thought that was good enough to keep whatever was attacking us away until, thud, I was flat on the ground. The smoke disappeared, a tall woman stood before us greening.

"I'm sure you are done playing", said a half-annoyed Jacob. "what have we here, the remaining Kufu bloke of the Bantu rite and oh, you…", said the tall woman eyeing Makela. "You know her?", I asked Makela, "you can never forget a bully", replied a raging Ta-hawa. Right there and then I knew that she was going to attack the woman. It was the first time I witnessed Makela perfecting the Adrenaline Manoeuvre and it happened so fast that if you blinked once you would have missed the whole action.

"You have gotten stronger Biloondu", squeaked the woman as she laid flat on the ground with an angry girl pressing a dagger to her throat. "call me that again and it will be the last word that you utter", said Makela who at the moment was absolutely, murderous.

 "I have known this girl since the day she was born so choose your words thoroughly", advised an amused Jacob. I was in awe of what was happening. 

This woman had to be an expert at throwing smoke bombs or Makela was beyond the point of reason. Jacob was smirking like this was bound to happen, "it's alright Ta-hawa", he said to her in a calm tone and she backed off instantly. The woman stood up as she removed dust from her adornment and attire.

The woman had a warm bronze skin tone, her hair was braided on the sides and the center top rose like a Mohawk which reminded me of an Amazon warrior though there was a glow of simplicity in her eyes. Maybe her attitude was a way of covering it.

"Besides being prejudice, Yamba is also an expert in long-range archery", which was Jacob's way of saying, introduce yourself. "As you already heard my name is Yamba, only daughter of Mfumu Ntotila, a marksman of the Ntoma Military and a Marksman specialist of the KinKusu First Division, "So you are good at shooting things?", I asked the woman. "An expert, a talented hand", she replied as she admired her hands, "and an abnormally large mouth", retorted Makela.  "go to the weaponry table and grab any bow and quiver, I'll have a word with Yamba", said a solemn Jacob.

"You know this chick?", I asked as we walked to the weaponry table which had nothing to do with a table that hosted weapons. The Weaponry Table is a warehouse stocked with standard to military graded weapons. The Table is alphabetically organized. This, by far was one of my favorite places in Temple Bongo Bonang. The entrance hall was filled with portraits and weapons of some of the greatest warriors, kings, queens, Apostles, and Kinks. The Table possessed a sense of honor and mystery, the floor was made of a mirror which reflected the ceiling which was also made of mirror which, was slightly scary because it felt as if we were walking on air inside a tube.

"I can't believe she's here…", complained Makela when we got to the Bow section. "She said she's from Ntoma, isn't  that where you are from?", I asked, "yes. She has been discriminating against me for a long time, everybody thinks it's normal". She said while balancing a bow. To be honest, I had no idea why we had to select a bow and quiver when our Arks contained one.

 Without giving it thought I began to touch the bows on the shelves as I slowly walked behind Makela. "And she discriminates you because?", I asked though her reply took longer than I expected. I suddenly felt a tingling sensation on a bow I touched. "because my mother is different…", she replied in an almost whisper, "argh, it's not fair! And people find it okay when she says these things!", bellowed Makela.  She noticed that I was too quiet and turned around to see. "Whoa…", said Makela looking at the bow I held. 

"The Gaddafi. Its predecessor is Mansa Musa I. The Gaddafi's wood is rare, once a branch is cut off from its tree, the tree disappears.", another "did you know" Makela fact. The Gaddafi made her forget about Yamba for a moment. I held The Gaddafi with either hand in awe, "Which tree?", I asked Ta-hawa who was mesmerized by the bow. "The Kali Baobab, its wood is purely black", replied Makela, "the tree only reappears after the person who cuts from the tree is no longer with the living", she said. Ta-hawa came closer to hold The Gaddafi.

Its wood gave a feeling that it was still a part of its tree, a foreboding allure.  

The Gaddafi was a marvel, both ends resembled a lion's claw, the center was the head of a roaring African lion and the string was made of strange glowing grey material and black smoke emitted from it.  When the string was stretched to aiming position, it produced an arrow made of carbon dioxide extracted from the air. The Gaddafi morphed into four black metallic chrome arm beads.

"I doubt that there is anything cooler than that here so I'm just going to take this", said Makela in mild disappointment. Makela led the way to the entrance hall which was the only way to get in and out of the Weaponry Table. I was still amazed by what I held, "argh, what is this doing here", she said as she picked up a sword, nothing was stunning about it, it looked more like a standard training sword. Makela wanted to drop it but then changed her mind, "I'll keep it", Makela said as she placed the sword in her belt that hosted medium-sized weapons.

"hold on Makela", I said to her as I took her hand, "look, there's probably much about your home you won't tell me but the best way to make it clear is to not let anything she says affect you", I advised. "it's easier said than done", frowned Ta-hawa. 

"I know what you going through, 6 million Black people around the planet have experienced discrimination in the most brutal and inhumane way… most still do.", I said to her as I thought about all the times I have been discriminated. 

"What should I do?", she asked, "well, first wipe that frown, self-discipline, you show your potential because you have a standard to set for yourself and remember…", I paused, "this is probably the most important. Never let anyone nor any word dictate who and what you are and remember, anyone can define you only when you have failed to define yourself.

Failure has never been an option for an African." I advised reassuringly, "thank you JK, though you do know I'm Kammatu, right?", she said with a smile.

"Finally, I thought it slowed you down, Kufu", said a rude Yamba. I looked at Makela to make sure if she was alright. Even the smallest change in maturity requires time. Makela was calm as if she had not heard Yamba calling her "it". "I'll be watching today, remember everything I have taught you and Ta-hawa you have already made me proud", smirked Jacob. A Disciple performed a perfect Adrenaline Manoeuvre on a Ntoma Military Marksman, "expert". 

We moved to the center of the training ground, two target boards floated about eight meters in front of us, four of the same behind the first two and eight of the same behind the four.

"Your first task is the simplest. Hit the bullseye and remember precision and patience is essential", said Yamba. She walked to Makela while glaring at her though Ta-hawa was not vexed. "bow at the ready" instructed Yamba, "maintain a firm grip on the bow and hold it horizontally", said Yamba. Makela obediently followed her instructions without a flinch. "What do you see in front of you?", she asked Ta-hawa, "floating target boards", replied Makela, still at the ready.

"No! You see a bullseye and that is the only thing that you see", bellowed Yamba. "Do you see the bullseye?", asked Yamba, "yes...", replied Makela. Honestly, I was impressed with Ta-hawa's discipline because I knew that nothing was stopping her from reaching Yamba's neck. "Release", instructed Yamba.  The arrow shot through the bullseye like child's play.

Yamba gestured with her chin that it was my turn to do the same. I positioned The Gaddafi to the ready in a horizontal position, a firm grip on the bow. I pulled the string back and a black arrow emerged forming carbon smoke that smelled like a burnt tire. The pulling back of the string for aiming would have made me tired though due to all the super training it felt like Michael Jordan performing a slam dunk with fifty kilograms bagged on each leg. 

I zeroed in on the target, I eyed the bullseye till everything else was a blur. "Release", she commanded. In a matter of seconds, the floating target was covered in a black substance that quickly dried and scattered in the air in an explosion that blew up all the targets. 

"The Gaddafi!? but how?", asked Jacob in bewilderment, "you mean to say that you had no idea that… that The Gaddafi, the only bow that is made from the strongest wood in the world was here all this time and you were oblivious to this?", asked a dumbstruck Yamba.

For a second there, I thought I saw her drooling as she stared at The Gaddafi but she wiped the smoothing off her face when she noticed I was staring at her. "The Gaddafi chooses its master", said Jacob while he approached me. He ran his index and middle finger down the bow's Blackwood, "you had an unexplainable sensation the first time you touched it?", I nodded.

We learned to shoot arrows from all angles and positions, we learned how to Curve Precision which is a fancy name for releasing an arrow at such an angle that instead of the arrow moving in a straight path it deviates. Well, it took longer to master that technique. 

We worked hard all day to the point that I was left dumbstruck to see the Moon and stars when I looked up. Jacob ended the session and ordered us to wait outside at the pavilion while he spoke to Yamba. 

Ta-hawa started removing her armor though kept a spark of satisfaction on her face.  "You know for a while there I thought I was about to lose control and decapitate that grease face", confessed Ta-hawa in satisfaction as she set on the floor next to me. "congratulations, then.", I said while trying to remove the thought of a decapitated body. "I have something for you", said Makela.

Makela brought out two arm beads made of obsidian with Black Diamond strips around each bead and scripted in Mdw Ntru. The scripts glowed in all shades of grey which was fascinating because dark colors do not commonly glow. "Happy birthday JK", said Makela, "Makela I think you are mistaken.  My birthday is on…", I paused, it was my birthday. It never mattered to me… "the first of May", Makela finished my sentence. "This is a Ntoma Bead of Bond; it symbolizes an unbreakable bond between two people. I believe we share a special unbreakable bond", said Makela. I was in awe of what was happening. 

The only people to have ever cared or done a similar gesture were the Mazayi family and Mrs. Sahir back home. I was having a hard time holding my tears in. I leaned towards Makela in an embrace. "How romantic. I must give it to you, you do know how to pick them. Is this how your mother did it?", bombarded Yamba with her abnormally large mouth who appeared from nowhere! Such moments with Makela were rare, she is not the girly sensitive type or at least she does not show it. And just like that, this chick comes from nowhere, out of the blue, and changes the mood.

Makela stood up abruptly with the sword she found in the entrance hall at the Weaponry Table drawn at the ready. Yamba smirked at her. I dawned to the conclusion that if these two went down then it would not have been the first time the two had a go at each other and knowing Ta-hawa, even though she was younger, smaller, and less skilled compared to Yamba, she will have to die before she yields. Yamba was overconfident, a ferocious Makela was in the mood of a fight and I was not skilled nor qualified as a referee.

"Stand down", I pleaded, "I shall not!", bellowed Makela. One could tell that she was at her boiling point though discipline was key for an Apostle and Yamba was an instructor therefore a fight between the two was out of the question, once  again, FIRST TENET.

 I moved in front of Makela blocking Yamba from her view. "look at me, only me", I calmly instructed her, "I know nothing will give you more joy than to pound her head. Do not succumb to her words", I said as I removed the sword from her hand. Makela kept her head down, she felt defeated. "looks like you have found yourself a life partner!", laughed Yamba. "You should be careful Kufu, don't get to attached, they usually leave when it gets real", she said hoping that her words would have sparked an effect. I held Makela's hand affectionately.

We walked away to the pavilion leading to our chamber. If Yamba was smart she would have gotten the message. There was beef between these two and the worse part of it is that I was now in the mix of it. "what's this beefing about?", I asked her as we entered the chamber, she sat on her bed and sighed in fatigue.

"no one talks about it because there's not much to talk about. Pure Blood or better known as the Immaculate and Pure, Half-Blood or better known as the Moderate and Mix Blood or better known as the Adulterate or Impure or the more derogatory, Biloondu", said Makela, you could feel her pain as she said the last word, it was transparent that it was something that made her feel degraded among her people.

"Greek presence in Kemet, I mean, Egypt also meant interaction between the foreigners and natives. If this was a problem to those who held Kammatu standards, then it was only set to surface after the Fourth War of Zayi.  Either no one knows or no one wishes to be held responsible for the Classification Ideology, which, rules the school of thought of many. Diversity is only acceptable within the patrimonial culture of Kemet. Children born of parents from two different tribes are classified as Moderate.  Higher families of eminent nobility and royalty only mix among themselves, the Immaculate. Those who were descendants of Greek and Kammatu parenting and any child who has one parent that is not Kammatu is classified as an Adulterate." said Makela.

All of what she said, to me, was completely rubbish, absolute bollocks. Here's a nation of advanced human beings who have achieved what is still science fiction in the Western World and yet ethnicity is still an issue. There are only Black people of different hue in Kemet, why would ethnicity be a problem? 

"It's not much of a thing as it was back in the day. The Royal family live to serve their subjects, therefore, felt no need for the ideology. Some noble families felt the same as the Royal though, noble families such as that of Yamba bathe in the blissful illusion of superiority and Immaculate blood", said Ta-hawa. She paused as if she was in profound thought. She sighed again and laid her back on the bed.

"Yamba said she is the daughter of Mfumu Ntotila, as in Mfumu?", I asked. "Yes, Mfumu. A Chief Governor who also severed as a General for the Ntoma military in his prime", replied Makela. "Once upon a time Yamba was a big sister to me", confessed Makela. That left me completely flabbergasted, If I had water in my mouth it would have Jetted out at its own will like a damaged sprinkler. 

"What!?", I managed, "she wasn't always a military-head, her three elder brothers died in the Battle of Moors during the Arabic War about 10 years ago. She was the only child left and was sent off to KinKusu to replace her brothers, the Kinks are serious about military pedigree.  I have no idea what she learned and acquired there though she came back as ruthless and unpredictable as a crook.", finished Makela. "And ya'll been beefing since?", I asked, "ever since", replied Makela.

The following day, I and Ta-hawa were put to a test of endurance, we spent the whole day shooting at targets, after thirty seconds, fifteen minutes were added and only fifteen seconds were added for resting. We redundantly performed the same task for a total of fifteen hours.

Yamba was probably punishing us for the previous evening. Oddly, she was not as prejudice as the previous day, I could not help but see Ta-hawa's older and protective sister in her. "Do not stare so much. The Kinks do not like that", advised Jacob as he caught me gazing at Yamba.

"Yamba is the Replacement of three of the best Kinks, her brothers who died during the Arabic War. It is strange. The very year we fought to maintain our pride in the battle of Soweto, in the borderlines of Kemet, others decide to occupy Moorssaw. The Kammatu and Arabs have been fighting over that territory for some time.", said Jacob. "and what happened to Yamba while in Kinkusu?", I was curious, "Juda, you don't just wake up one day to the decision that you are prejudice. It's an education indoctrinated into the nature of people. Yes, Kinkusu hardened her though what she became was always concealed inside", replied Jacob.

A moment of philosophic silence blessed our observation as we noticed Yamba from afar trying her utmost best not to display her affection towards Ta-hawa. "There was a time when she would have done anything for her.

Yamba being the last born and only female child saw a younger sister in Ta-hawa, who needed an older sister. Unfortunately, Yamba grew up in a home of those who took pride in Immaculateness", "unfortunate, I suppose", I concluded.

Dinner was lovely, why, it was the first time in months that I ate unhealthy food. All my time in Temple Bongo Bonang I ate healthy food ranging from fruits, vegetables, meat, poultry, and fish. Jacob took a detour to Pretoria while in search of the leads of his family and stopped at a KFC restaurant and hooked me up with a StreetWise 3, extra-large Twister, and a one litter Coca-Cola. Ta-hawa thought it was disgusting but hey, a KFC once in a while makes the stomach smile.

Ta-hawa had proper eating table manners so she was probably from a noble family from this part of the continent, at least I thought so. I noticed earlier that the topic about her family was not a safe zone for anyone who was asking but I had to ask. I looked at her, she had done the same, and then the odd moment of silence.

You know that odd moment in a movie when two people are about to kiss just because of how near they are to each other. That's just weird. Okay, it has nothing to do with this but still very weird, like are you supposed to snog every person you get that close to, talk about STDs on the rise, man.

Anyway, I broke the silence, it was getting annoying, "Ta-hawa?", I started gently. "Yes?", she asked. "I wanted to know why you only go by a single name", I asked, now I was terrified that she might start to stab me but she had not, in fact, she began to weep. "I'm sorry I asked…", I apologized to her in a sort of whisper tone, "it's okay… Just hold me…", she requested. I sat beside her and gently held her, she pressed her head on my chest and began to speak. "My mother… She's not… Like… Well, she's a... a... a Caucasian, and I'm ashamed of it!", she said in a squeaky pitch voice.

It was silent for a moment then she broke it with a deep sigh, "my father dwelled among the Bantu though he was a native here. He had met my mother while attending a Gentile university, so he thought.

My mother was an instrument used to deteriorate the Crown of Ntoma but she fell in love with him, they got married secretively and I was conceived shortly after. No one in Kemet especially the Kongo would ever permit a Caucasian to dwell in Kemet let alone in the house of royalty but my father was young and naïve.

 I guess they both were because she believed that they would live happily ever after", she paused and stood up. 

The sun was once again rising and the skyline was adorned in shades of pink, purple and blue. She took 3 steps forward, her back facing me, "the people who delved for my father's destruction through my mother had threatened to kill her if she did not complete the mission, to kill the man she loved. She was stuck in crossroads in either direction she would have lost him; she knew that she would have never been accepted. She chose the easy way out, she ran away from him and them.", she paused. 

"I was born months later. My father does not know of my existence. As a baby, my mother was worried because I was as pale as a Caucasian, luckily for me as I grew I began to darken and passed for an oddly light skin Kammatu. My father's full lips and nose help but the color of my eyes is a constant problem for me. Grey eyes are not common among the Kammatu nor Bantu. I usually lie that it's a disease or something", she sighed.

"Being mixed is not something to be proud of here, I once lost a friend when I told her the truth", she finished those last words with her head held down. I stood up to join her, "being mixed has never been a problem here, this continent is diverse but someone like me is ill-spoken of. A fruit of the enemy", she said bursting into tears. I knew if I comforted her then it would have been only out of pity and she did not deserve that.

 "I keep telling myself what my mother contemplates to herself, if I was only Black I would have been accepted. My mother wanted me to grow up like my people so Jacob found a way for me to serve in the compound of the Maditau so that I would be like the women of my father's tribe.", she paused. "You trying to tell me you ain't black! You got me fooled, sister!", I joked causing her to smile, at least momentarily. 

Makela wiped her tears and sighed before she continued, "whoa… I feel much better now, it's like a load off. Every day I try so hard to prove to be an equal among my father's people and it hurts to a certain point but all I want is to be seen as a Kammatu and not some abomination!", she said breaking into tear again. "I… I… I can understand if… If… If you no longer wish to befriend something like me… I would not blame you…", she shrugged. 

To be honest I never had to prove myself to anyone but if this is what it felt like then I was not interested.

"Not be your friend, like not have to be irritated by your mood swings, Nah I'll pass.", I said to her smiling. "Look I don't know much about Kemet but what I do know is that you are not an abomination and I would be a fool not to have someone like you as a friend", I said as reached for her hand. I lifted her chin, "hey? If you are a something, that would be something; extraordinary. Do you understand?", "thank you, Juda…".

After that touching moment, we had not spoken much, I went to bed a couple of minutes later, the food reminded me of home, and talking about home, I wondered what Kai and Rachael were up to. I instantly felt guilty, months had passed by and I only thought of them at that moment. I wondered if they started dating, I hoped Mrs. Mazayi and Mrs. Sahir were doing well… After all the time I spent in Temple Bongo Bonang I began to wonder if my old life was real, the only people I felt closest to were the Mazayi family, Mrs. Sahir and my three-hour friendship with Rachael Boltman.