The urgent sounds of destruction awoke him. Men and women screamed, shouted and cursed in the distance. Swords rang out down the corridors and the smell of smoke hung heavy in the air. Changa rose to the hulking image of Yusef towering above him, his scimitar in his hand. He turned and looked down on Changa.
“So, kibwana, are you done with your nap?”
Changa struggle to his feet and Yasmine stirred. A painful moan escaped her lips.
“What’s going on?” Changa asked.
“Chaos,” Yusef replied. “Abdul’s slaves are running rampant. The city guard is attempting to keep them in the compound.”
Changa found his weapons. “Give me your scimitar,” he said to Yusef. “Pick up Yasmine.”
Changa took the sword and Yusef lifted Yasmine to his shoulders. Together they plunged into the chaos of the compound, pushing through desperate people and eventually found their way to the gates. Guardsmen blocked the way, their pikes lowered as they secured the gates from the outside. Changa sheathed his sword and stepped a few paces from the wall. He ran and jumped, his fingertips landing on the wall’s edge. With a loud grunt he lifted himself onto the wall then jumped down into the midst of the guards. Changa’s sword was out and slashing before the soldiers knew what happening. In moments he stood surrounded by dying men.
“Pull down the gate!” he shouted. The men inside grasped the bars, jerking with all their strength. Changa turned his back to them as more guardsmen appeared. He never considered the overwhelming odds; he gripped his sword and waiting for their assault. The gate gave way just as the guardsmen reached Changa. A human flood surged past him, overwhelming the hapless guards. Changa found Yasmine and Yusef and they ran towards the docks. The streets swarmed with people, some fleeing for their freedom, some fleeing for their lives while the city guard fought to restore order. Changa and the others reached the dock as Belay’s bahari hastily untied the Sara. The sailors crowded around their friends and Yasmine as they carried her aboard.
Yusef knocked them away. “Have some decency!” he bellowed. He removed his shirt, wrapping it around the woman. Yasmine looked up at her saviors and smiled.
“Thank you,” she whispered.
“Make way! Make way!”
The bahari parted for Belay. He looked at the woman, Changa and Yusef.
“So, you’re the cause of this,” he said.
“Yes, bwana,” Changa replied.
“You disobeyed me.”
Changa looked at Belay defiantly. “I did what was right.”
A relieved smile came to the merchant’s face. “I’m glad you did.”
He knelt beside Yasmine. “We will take you home, daughter. Your family will be happy to see you.”
Belay stood and the stern expression returned to his face. “What are you dogs looking at? Get us out of here. I’m losing money with all you standing around!”
The sails unfurled and the dhow fled the harbor of Zanzibar. Changa led Yasmine below deck and into his cabin.
“You will be safe now,” he said. “I give you my word.”
Yasmine touched his face and kissed his cheek. “You are a brave man. If by chance you decide to offer lobola to my father it would be a happy day for me.”
She entered the cabin and smiled again before Changa closed the door.
Changa turned to the sound of approaching footsteps. Belay walked up to him and hugged him.
“You are the son I should have had,” he announced. “You may not be of my blood, but you have my spirit. When we return to Mombasa, I will proclaim it so.”
“That is not necessary,” Changa replied. “You are already a father to me.”
Belay beamed as he walked away. Changa was proud of Belay’s promise, but he was most proud of rescuing Yasmine. He hoped that one day he could do the same for those he left behind so long ago.
“Are you done?”
Yusef loomed above him, his wounds patched by the ship’s healer. A grin creased Changa’s face.
“Yes, I am,” he replied.
Yusef smiled back. “Good. We have unfinished business in Mombasa, Mbogo.”
Changa swatted the big man on his wounded shoulder and he winched.
“You’ll get your chance.”
Yusef swatted him back. “Don’t run away from me this time, kibwana.”
Changa rubbed his aching shoulder and smiled.
“Don’t worry,” he said. “This time I won’t have to.
Awakening
By
Valjeanne Jeffers
The nine-year girl ran to catch up with them. “I want to go Father!” she called. “I want to practice too!”
Adegoke, a muscular giant of man, turned to face his daughter. “You can’t go Nandi,” he said sternly, but there was compassion in his brown eyes.
“But why?”
Adegoke took her chin in one of his big hands. “Because my flower, you are a girl. You’re not meant to fight and the ancestors would be angry with me if I trained you for battle. Besides, think of how dirty you’d become!”
“I don’t care!”
“Nandi you’re my daughter, the daughter of a king,” Adegoke continued patiently. “One day you’ll marry a handsome prince, he will take you away to live in a new palace. Your every wish will be granted. Doesn’t that sound nice?”
“No!” tears rolled down Nandi’s cheeks. “It sounds horrible! I don’t want to leave you and Mama! I want to stay here and fight!”
Too late her father realized he’d botched the fairytale meant to cheer his only daughter up. Behind them Tomi, her older brother, shuffled impatiently, in a hurry to be off. He’d just turned 12 and his head had been shaved like her father, as a rite of passage. Now he would begin his training as a warrior.
Adegoke sighed. “You’ll understand when you’re older. Now go home. I’m sure your mother’s looking for you.”
Later that day while Nandi’s sisters, Iverem and Effiwat, the daughters of Adegoke’s two other wives sat in the garden playing with wooden statuettes, Nandi tossed aside her own
