Chapter 23

A couple of hours later, Jabu, Nomsa and Luyanda stepped out of the cab and split the fare between themselves. They stood in front of a high wall made of grey stone blocks, with little turrets running along the top. A set of wrought iron gates blocked their path. Luyanda stuck his head through its bars and spied well manicured lawns, and a walkway lined with trees.
“Is this it?” Nomsa asked, peering at the little bronze lion head sculpture adorning each of the gates.
“I guess so,” Jabu replied.
“How do we get in?” Luyanda asked.
There was a soft click, and the gates swung open. “Ah,” Jabu said, “he must have programmed our pads into the security system. He thinks of everything, doesn’t he?”
They stepped through the gates and found themselves on a long, broad lane bordered with trees. A majestic mansion stood at the end of the path. Jabu let out a long, low whistle.
“He can afford this on a university salary?” Nomsa asked.
“We shouldn’t have let the cab driver go. That’s one hell of a walk,” Jabu said, nodding towards the walkway.
“Come on,” Luyanda said, setting off.
Their feet crunched on loose white pebbles as they made their way down the path, taking in the lovely manicured lawns to their right and left. They came to a set of steps leading up to the double doors of the house. A fountain played at its base, shooting silver jets of water into the air. The doors at the top of the stairs swung open and Dr. Uru stepped out.
“Welcome, welcome.”
“Sorry we’re late,” Nomsa mumbled.
“Better late than never,” Uru replied. “What’s wrong, Luyanda?”
Luyanda’s mouth hung open as he stared at Uru’s strange costume. Uru wore a gold kaftan that shimmered in the evening light. He had a matching turban on his head, and a pair of gilded sandals on his feet. He carried a flywhisk in his right hand.
“No, nothing at all. I just, er-- really like your costume.”
“Thank you. Yours are waiting inside. Right this way, lady and gentlemen.”
He held the door open for them as they walked up the stairs and entered the house.
“Did you see his whisk?” Luyanda whispered in Jabu’s ear as they ascended the stairs. “It’s the same one that he took from us at the museum.”
“No it’s not,” Jabu answered. “That was a beaten up piece of rubbish. This one is proper.”
Luyanda took a closer look at it as they filed past Uru. It had an ivory handle, carved in the shape of a man sitting down on a stool. The bushy brown buffalo tail was attached to its upper end by golden strips. Between the tail and the handle was a silver-inlaid wooden shaft, decorated with geometric patterns.
“Right this way,” Uru said, as he noticed Luyanda tarrying at the door.
He led them into a large lobby. Statues, masks and weapons covered the floors and walls. Luyanda felt as if he’d stepped back into their museum. At the end of the lobby, a set of double doors led into another room. They found Yisa and Amina standing beside a bay-window, chatting animatedly. Despite the soft, relaxing music playing, they looked tense and nervous. Amina had a bark cloth wrapped around her chest and waist, leaving her shoulders, belly and legs exposed. Yisa wore a buck-skin loin-cloth. Copper bangles jangled on his ankles and wrists. They nodded at the newcomers. Luyanda, Jabu and Nomsa nodded back.
“I am afraid the party cannot truly begin until the three of you are in costume,” Uru said with a smile. “Amina will show you where you can get changed.”
“Right this way,” Amina said. She led them through the doors, and onto a winding stairway that led to a wide, airy passage on the second floor of the house, lined with several doors.
“You boys can go in there,” she said, pointing at a door that stood partially open. “You’ll find name tags on your costumes.”
Luyanda stepped into the room and blinked as the lights flicked on. The floorboards creaked beneath his weight. A damp musty smell hung in the air, as if the room hadn’t been used in quite a while. Still, it was well kept, neat and tidy, which wasn’t difficult because all it had was a bed, a desk and a chair. Two costumes lay on the bed.
“Hey, let’s see what I’ve got,” Jabu said. He crossed over to the bed and read the labels on each set. “Oh, sweet!” he exclaimed. “This one’s mine.” It was a white kaftan covered in gold lacing, in one hand, and a matching cloth cap.
Luyanda examined the label on the other costume on the bed.
“It says ‘Luyanda/ Mokele’. Isn’t that one of the heroes from the exhibition?”
“Yeah. Mine says ‘Jabu/ Ozidi.’”
Luyanda stared at the leopard skin loincloth lying on the bed. A white ostrich-feathered headdress and a brace of amulets and bangles lay beside it. “I think they got the names wrong,” he said.
“No they didn’t mate. Leopard print is definitely you,” Jabu added, giggling.
“I think this is only half the costume“ Luyanda said, holding the loin cloth up, “Most of it’s missing.”
“Told you to start working out.”
“I’m not wearing this. No way.”
“Oh come on. Don’t be such a wet blanket. It’s all in good fun.”
“That’s easy for you to say. You’re fully dressed.”
“Just be grateful it’s only a few of us here.”
“Yeah. I must just be careful that no one takes any pictures.”
In a few minutes, they’d changed into their costumes, and they stepped out of their room. It was all Jabu could do to keep from sniggering.
“Will you shut up?” Luyanda demanded. “You look almost as ridiculous yourself.”
“At least I’ve got this cover thing,” Jabu said, poking a finger at the long robes that fell from his shoulders. “You’ve got zilch. Is it chilly down there?” He burst out laughing.
Luyanda felt his neck, face and ears getting hot. “We might as well get this over and done with,” he said. The door of a room opposite them opened and Nomsa stepped out into the passage, struggling to fit an ornate headdress onto her head.
“Hey!” Jabu exclaimed, “You look kind of familiar.” He turned to Luyanda.
“Doesn’t she look like one of those paintings in the Heroes Exhibition?”
“Yeah, now that you mention it —.”
Amina walked out of the room after Nomsa.
“Let’s get downstairs,” she said. “I’m sure they’re waiting for us.”
Luyanda fought back the lump rising in his throat as he descended the stairs, steeling himself against the reaction that he expected to get from the others downstairs. If Jabu’s constant sniggering was anything to go by, it would be a very long evening indeed.
“Aah,” Uru exclaimed when they had descended the stairs. “Now we can eat. This way to the dining room. I trust that you’re all hungry?”
“Ravenous!” Jabu replied, “Lead the way-ouch!” He grabbed his side, where Nomsa had just poked him. “That’s not very polite,” she whispered harshly in his ear.
“This is no place for social niceties, Modjadji,” Uru said.
“Sorry?” Nomsa answered, “What did you call me?”
“I called you Modjadji,” Uru answered. “The great Rain Queen of the Lovedu people from centuries past. That’s the costume that you’re wearing. Or didn’t you see the label?”

Nomsa glanced at the shawl running all the way down to her ankles.
“Yes, I saw that,” she answered, “but I didn’t really give it any attention. Especially because it’s so different from the artists’ impression we have down at the museum.”
“You’re quite right, and the details are often times what make all the difference. It’s precisely their loss that relegates facts to the domain of legend.” He walked up to Jabu and presented him with two sword hilts.
“What are these?” Jabu asked.
“These belong in your scabbard, Ozidi,” Uru answered, “I went through great pains to obtain them. Take good care of them.” Nomsa gasped and reached out for one. She turned it over in her hands. “It can’t be,” she said, “These were reputed to have been lost centuries ago.”
Jabu took the hilt from Nomsa and tossed it from one hand to the other.
“Careful,” Uru barked, “That is genuine.”
“That’s impossible,” Luyanda scoffed.
“We will verify that shortly, Mokele.”
“Listen, if it’s all the same to you, I’d rather you called me by my real name.”
“Unfortunately it’s not all the same to me,” Uru replied. “Besides, why do you want to be such a spoil sport.”
“That’s exactly what I said too,” Jabu chimed in, “It’s a costume party, Lu—sorry, Mokele. Get with it.”
“Absolutely right,” Uru said. “Please, follow me.”
He pushed open a pair of doors and led them into a long, high ceilinged room. Windows lined one long wall. A beautiful cloth, embroidered with colourful geometric patterns hung along the length of the other wall. Where the table ought to have been, in the centre of the room, was an ornate rug, embroidered in gold thread. On top of it were a number of wooden bowls, full of steaming food. Luyanda couldn’t recognise the different aromas that wafted up to his nose. Arranged along the sides of the rug were seven cushions. A domestibot stood by in the corner of the room, red light blinking in the side of its head.
“Please,” Uru indicated with a sweep of his hands, “make yourselves comfortable.” They sat down on the cushion, legs crossed before them as they saw Uru doing. “Man,” Jabu muttered as he tucked his long legs in under him, “this is uncomfortable.”
“Tonight, we will dine as our ancestors did,” Uru replied, catching Jabu’s comment.
“They must have had incredible core strength to sit like this when eating,” Jabu shot back. “My back’s already sore.”
“Yes,” Uru replied, “One of the many things we have lost with the trappings of modernity.”
“Suswa,” he clapped his hands twice, and the domestibot in the corner whirled towards him. “Drinks, please. Mind you remember the orders.”
The domestibot bowed and whirred out of the room. It returned a moment later balancing a large tray in its hands. It handed each one of them a wooden calabash. Then it whirred back to the corner and was quiet, red light flashing in the side of its head.
“What’s this?” Jabu asked, sniffing suspiciously at the contents of his calabash. “It smells kind of weird.”
Luyanda lifted up his own calabash and stared at the dark brown liquid swirling about inside. It had a faint, sweet smell - slightly fermented - and reminded him more of --.
“Is this palm wine?” he asked.
“Yours is,” Uru answered. “But everyone’s drink is different.”
Luyanda leaned over and checked Nomsa’s calabash. The liquid inside was thin and white, with small lumps floating about inside. “I think mine is sour milk,” she whispered at Luyanda when she saw him staring at it.
“Sorry, doctor,” Luyanda asked, turning to Uru, “but how come we all have different drinks?”
“Because you are all different.” He raised his calabash in his hands, and scanned the room.
“First, a libation to the ancestors.” He tipped his calabash and poured a drop of liquid on the floor.
“Please, let us all do the same. It is fitting.”
The rest did as instructed. Luyanda cast a glance at Jabu, seated opposite him. He wore a solemn air as he poured out a few drops of his beverage on the floor. Luyanda rolled his eyes. Jabu was taking this way too seriously. As he turned away, he caught Yisa glaring at him. Luyanda shrugged, and tipped a few drops of his drink on the floor. Yisa turned away with a crisp nod.
“Now, let us all drink up.”
“I’m not touching this until I know what’s in it,” Luyanda said, folding his hands defiantly.
“Believe you me, I stand to gain nothing from poisoning you. It is the dawning of a new year. A new era. Surely we need some pomp, ceremony and ritual to usher it in. Why would you want to spoil all the fun?”
Luyanda shrugged. He joined the others in raising the calabash to his lips, and gulped down a mouthful. The warm smooth liquid slid down his throat, leaving a sweet after-taste in his mouth. If he hadn’t been so suspicious of Uru, he would have taken another sip. Instead, he lowered the calabash from his mouth and glanced at the others.
Jabu had his eyes pressed tightly shut and his nose pinched between his fingers as he imbibed his drink. Nomsa blinked back tears, as if she had swallowed a shot of powerful whisky. Yisa gulped down the contents of the his calabash, sending droplets dribbling down his chin. Amina took a large swig, closed her eyes, and leaned back as she swallowed, relishing every drop.
“Now, the ceremony can begin.”
“What ceremony?” Jabu asked, staring at the plates hungrily. “Isn’t the food getting cold?”
“The ceremony to usher in the new era,” Uru answered. “After which, we shall celebrate our rebirth with our first meal. It will still be hot. Have no fear.”
He pulled a tube out from beneath the folds of his gown and unrolled it, and read it out aloud. Luyanda didn’t understand a word of what he said. He turned to Nomsa and raised an eyebrow.
“Ancient Nubian,” she whispered. Uru was now swaying back and forth slowly on his cushion, his eyes closed, his brow furrowed. He held the fly whisk across his chest, and extended his arms, lifting them up.
A gust of wind punched through the room, rattling all the windows. Fear knitted Luyanda’s insides. He looked at the others. Nomsa and Jabu were on the verge of panic. Jabu, Yisa and Amina looked calm. Yisa even had his eyes closed. Uru carried on chanting. He was in a trance. He pitched forward on the cushion, and another blast of wind tore through the room. He lifted up both hands, gave a loud order and waved his whisk. The floor quaked. Nomsa shrieked and collapsed to the ground. Yisa and Amina also sprawled across the floor, senseless.
Luyanda leapt to his feet.
“What have you done to them?”
Uru’s eyes widened.
“You did not drink?”
“Yes I did,” Luyanda replied as he darted over to Nomsa and gave her shoulder a rough shake.
“Nomsa, can you hear me?”
“You did not drink?” Uru repeated, rising to his feet.
Nomsa’s eyes fluttered open.
“Umm, where am I?”
“What happened?” Jabu asked, stirring and pushing himself up onto his knees.
“How long have I been out?” Nomsa asked. She sat up. “My head hurts.”
“You passed out,” Luyanda answered.
“How?”
“I don’t know.” Luyanda turned to Uru.
“What did you do to us?”
“You want to know what I did to you?” He raised his whisk. “See for yourself.” He flicked the fly-whisk, and Jabu, Yisa, Amina and Nomsa all stiffened, arms pressed against their sides. He lowered the whisk, and the four of them relaxed.
“What? What on earth was that? What did you do to them?” Luyanda demanded.
Uru levelled his fly whisk at Luyanda, and flicked his wrist. Luyanda stared at him blankly.
“What’s going on?” Luyanda asked. “What games are you playing?”
Uru frowned.
“No. No games. I made your friends more powerful than they could ever imagine. But,” he added, eyes narrowing, “Not you, it seems.”

Luyanda’s eyes shot from Uru to his four companions.
“Mwindo!” Uru barked.
“Yes?” It was Yisa that spoke.
“How do you feel?”
“Weird,” he answered. “It’s like the ground is — it’s a part of me. I don’t know how to explain it.”
Uru just stared at Yisa, then he nodded.
Yisa blinked twice and then he sunk slowly into the ground. Nomsa screamed, and Jabu grabbed Luyanda’s arm. Yisa submerged until only his head was visible, like a decapitated corpse with blinking eyes. Then with a faint pop, he re-emerged and was standing on the floor again.
He stared at his hands and feet, rocking on his heels in excitement.
“It’s true,” he murmured. “I did it.”
“And what about me?” Amina asked. “You promised.”
“Promised what?” Luyanda asked. Uru ignored him.
“What did you promise Amina?”
“Her name is no longer Amina,” Uru replied. “She is Massassi, re-awakened from the forgotten realms of Great Zimbabwe to restore life to everything green and growing.”
Amina stuck her hands out in front of her and turned them over as if she were seeing them for the first time. Then she glanced around the room and spotted a vase full of flowers beside the window. She stretched her hands towards them, palms outward and squeezed her eyes shut. The petals fluttered. Then their stalks trembled and swayed. Cracks crawled across the vase’s surface, when suddenly, with a loud snap, roots shot out of the pot and broke it in pieces. The roots sped across the floor and punched into the ground, splitting the tiles on the floor. The plant reared up, standing on its roots, tottering from side to side. Amina stumbled backwards, breathing hard, a gleam of satisfaction in her eyes.
Uru turned to Nomsa. “Modjadji,” he barked. “Clean up this mess.” He flicked his whisk and a window swung open.
“I do not know who you are speaking to,” Nomsa answered, folding her arms in defiance. Uru’s face hardened for a split second, then broke into a grin.
“My dear,” he said , “If the Rain Queen can summon hurricanes, then surely a little breeze to clean up this mess is child’s play?”
“I am not the Rain Queen.”
“Of course you are. It’s in your genes now.”
“Is that what you gave us to drink?” Nomsa asked.
Uru nodded. “Yes. It was an accelerated gene-altering compound. It has taken me decades to perfect. There was an element to it that science couldn’t unravel. After all, Western logic cannot explain everything, can it?”
“You are out of your mind,” Nomsa said. “And making us drink that stuff without warning us beforehand was quite frankly, illegal.”
“Laws are petty conventions to be discarded once they’ve outlived their purpose. I have transformed you into an incarnation of the Rain Queen Modjadji, and you’re telling me about laws? I’m disappointed. Many would have died to be able to do what you can do.”
“I told you, I cannot do anything.”
“Prove me wrong.”
Nomsa shut her eyes and frowned. Then after a moment, she opened them again. Nothing had happened.
“See,” she said, smiling in satisfaction, “I told you so.”
There was a blinding flash of light and a loud bang. Luyanda hurtled across the room, and smashed into the opposite wall. He crawled back onto his feet and gawked at the large blackened hole where the window had been. Nomsa held both her hands over her mouth, her eyes widening in shock.
She turned to Luyanda, a helpless look on her face. Then she burst into tears.
“Look here you,” Jabu rose to his feet, “Who gave you the right to do this to her?”
“Ozidi, you still have that hot temper of yours? Might I suggest a bit of steel to cool you down?”
The sword hilts in Jabu’s hands leapt into the air. With a loud whoosh, two gleaming blades flashed out of them and stood quivering in mid-air.
“The sabres of Ozidi, the greatest swordsman to have ever walked this continent. They are yours to command, and will obey none but their true master.”
Jabu’s mouth hung agape. He stared at the swords suspended in the air before him. He nodded his head. The blades tilted forward. He bobbed his head to the right. The blades pitched to the right. He tucked his chin into his chest. The blades rolled backward. Then he stared hard at the blades, with unblinking eyes, deep in thought. The blades yawed, slicing the air with loud swooshes. Jabu caught his breath.
“I did that. I can control them with my - with my - ” He turned to Uru.
“Am I doing that?”
“Yes. And this is only the beginning.”
A stupid, mesmerized grin spread across Jabu’s face. He started at the blades whirring before him in child-like wonder.
“And what can he do?” Yisa wheeled around to face Luyanda.
“He did not drink,” Uru answered, his eyes boring into Luyanda’s.
“I told you that I did,“ Luyanda replied. “It sounds to me like your annoyed I haven’t become some circus freak you can control.”
“Circus freak!” Uru roared. “I offer you powers beyond all telling, gifts that people far greater than you bore with more humility, men and women whose deeds are memorialised in songs and fables, and you dare call them circus freaks? I could end your lives right here.” Uru brandished his whisk.
“You are young, hot-blooded and foolish. Still I have hope that with time, the clarity of the new dawn that we have ushered in will dispel the darkness that hovers over your mind. Perhaps this will convince you to join us, Luyanda.”
He aimed the whisk at to the tapestry draped across the wall behind them.
“Behold-.”
He flicked his wrist. The wall cloth dropped to the floor and revealed a map of Africa. A single word stretched across the image.
“Alkebulan. An empire the likes of which history has never known, spanning an entire continent, from Cape to Cairo. An empire that will return to its roots, with its heroes no longer the stuff of myths and legends. They will be the generals that will administer this great empire. The kings and queens who will rule it with fairness, love and equity. No more outsiders. No more rapine. This will be a new beginning. A return to our roots.”
He paused and looked around the room.
“And you, my children, will be those kings and queens.”
The room was silent. Luyanda scanned the faces around him. With the exception of Nomsa, the others were spellbound. He could not believe that they were buying into Uru’s words.
“My parents don’t look like me,” Luyanda blurted out. “What’s going to happen to them when you remove all the outsiders?”
“They’re not your real parents, son.”
Luyanda’s chest tightened. “I’ve had enough of this nonsense” he blurted. He spun around and headed to the door. It slammed shut before he could reach it. Luyanda tugged on the handle, but it wouldn’t budge. He applied his shoulder to it. Nothing happened. It was frozen firmly in place. Suddenly, a powerful wind picked up inside the room, rattling the doors and the windows.
“No! You will not use your gifts against me.” Uru pointed his whisk at Nomsa. The wind dropped and Nomsa fell to her knees with a gasp.
Luyanda’s mind raced. He glimpsed a narrow strip of shadow beneath the locked door. The next thing he knew, darkness engulfed him, and the air squeezed out his lungs. The floor fell from his feet, and almost immediately, was back beneath them again. He opened his eyes and found himself standing on the other side of the door. He reached for the handles and yanked it open.
Uru and the others just stared at him, awestruck.
“How did he--,” Yisa stammered.
Uru mouth hung open.
“Let’s get out of here,” Luyanda said, striding into the room. “You can’t keep us here any longer than we want to.”
He helped Nomsa to her feet, and turned back towards the door.
“Wait,” Uru barked, “You walk out those doors, and you’re an enemy of Alkebulan. That is not something you want.”
“Whatever, man. I’ll take my chances,” Luyanda replied. “Jabu, are you coming?”
Jabu didn’t stir. Luyanda paused at the door, with Nomsa beside him.
“Jabu, this is crazy. Let’s go.”
Jabu took a step backwards, eyes narrowing. A sneer shot across Uru’s face.
“He has made his decision, as have you,” Uru said. “Now go!”

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