Flight

by Sidgal

  Flight

  By

  Sidgal

  Published by Sidgal at Smashwords

  Copyright 2020 Sidgal

  Smashwords Edition, License Notes

  Thank you for downloading this ebook. You are welcome to share it with your friends. This book may be reproduced, copied and distributed for non-commercial purposes, provided the book remains in its complete original form. If you enjoyed this book, please return to your favorite ebook retailer to discover other works by this author. Thank you for your support.

  DEDICATED TO

  IGBOS ALL OVER THE WORLD; THE TRIBE WITH THE MOST ALBINOS, DWARVES AND DEFORMED PEOPLE IN WEST AFRICA BECAUSE THEY ACCEPTED WHAT OTHERS FEARED AND LOATHED, BACK WHEN OTHERS FEARED AND LOATHED IT.

  &

  TO NRI, THE EMPIRE/KINGDOM WHICH BROUGHT IN AND ACCEPTED ALL THESE OUTCASTED PERSONS.

  PREFACE

  This story is a work of fiction, but based on some pieces of factual history. In old Africa and much of the old world, children born with oddities, and/or deformities were considered evil and killed at birth, or treated as outcasts. A few rulers and nations were averse to this, but too few. Albinism, Sickle Cell, deformities; all were treated as curses placed on children to task their parent unjustly. These were true problems of our past and this story is based off these. It shows how fantasies can be made reality by the simple acts of you and me (Humans) and how we can also make devils of ourselves.

  In this story, Kalari is a kingdom located in what is now Northern Niger. The kingdom itself is complete fiction as is the tribe who inhabit it; “The Kalarian People”, but Nri is not at all a work of fiction, nor is the story of their unique system of hegemony, or of their accepting these people others considered outcasts. This story takes place sometime in the late 1400s

  Google: THE KINGDOM OF NRI to find out more.

  King Amastan of the Kalari kingdom had reigned seventy years and finally died at the more than ripe age of ninety-three. During Amastan’s reign, the land had been wonderful and prosperous. They had submitted to the Songhai Empire after six years of brutal war to keep the empire out. The clauses of Kalari’s submission dictated that while the kingdom becomes a vassal to the Songhai Empire, the people would retain their traditional religion and belief. Had they been conquered, the Islamic way would have been imposed on them.

  King Amastan had only three children in his lifetime, Prince Gwafa, his first child and heir; Princess Lunja, his second and Prince Aksil, his last. Gwafa was a proud and strong man. He grew up well and made his father proud in all ways, though disagreeing with him on one thing. Now, Kalari, like many other kingdoms and tribes viewed certain things in a certain light. Among these things was the fact that children born with looks, or features counter to the norm, were considered evil and put to death at birth. Children born with any deformities of any kind came under this category. Even albinos were categorized as evil. Amastan abolished this act the instant he took power and he felt lucky he did so as his precious daughter, Lunja was born an albino.

  While Amastan lived, these deformed children flourished and grew, but now he was dead, his wife was old and Gwafa was king. This new king was certainly going to change some things and first on his list was the reestablishment of the old law; The Wajefa Law........

  “ALL CHILDREN BORN WITH DEFECT, OR DEFOMRITY ARE EVIL AND MUST BE PUT TO DEATH IMMEDIATELY.”

  CHAPTER 01

  Tijene,

  Kalari

  Kalari was a fairly large kingdom on the edge of the Sahara desert. The Capital, Tijene was walled in by solid walls built with large mud bricks. The gates were made of wood and iron and the walls were patrolled by members of the Musondal; elite troops of the kingdom. The city was made up of block-shaped mud houses of different intricate sizes and structures. The palace was made of mud, wood and stone bricks. The kingdom sat in the path of a lucrative trade route which went to Mali, Egypt, Libya and Morocco thus they had the materials to build, dress and live exotically. Different types of palm trees were frequent in Tijene as it was one of the few nice plants which grew out here in the desert.

  The city streets were wide, or narrow, depending on the activities which took place in that region. All streets in the capital were covered by cobblestones. No expense was spared in the building of Tijene and the people were proud of it, but the winds of change were blowing and it was not at all for the better.

  It was a hot afternoon as were all afternoons in the desert when the gates of the palace were opened to let in twelve brilliant, white horses. The riders were led by a tall, athletic, lanky black man with a wrap around his head, held by a golden circlet to keep it in place. The man’s bright grey tunic shone under the sunlight and his red, sleeveless jacket was just as shiny. The straps of his leather sandals wound up his lower legs and at his side hung his magnificent sword. His arms were adorned with bands of gold and his ears were pierced with rings of the precious material also. Around his eyes, black paint was applied to help against glare from the sun, but it served to beautify the man. Up the lower part of his right arm ran a nasty scar and the little finger on the hand of that same arm was missing. This was King Gwafa, ruler of Kalari and one of the finest the kingdom had seen.

  The King stopped his horse and so did those who followed. He alighted and they did the same. They walked towards the front doors of the massive three storey palace. It was a marvelous work of stone, mud and wood. The windows were small and rectangular, but a few large ones were carved in the walls for special rooms. The walls were bare and red as most of it was mud. There were no pillars, but there were towers, eight of them in all.

  The wall around the compound was 10ft high and just as wide. The compound was large and though a few smaller buildings stood on it, they were at the sides and the back, not on the front.

  “Enukal!” said the four guards at the front door. This was the title of king among the Kalari tribe, who were distant descendants of the greater Berber tribe of Northern African.

  Gwafa waved a hand at the guards and walked into the palace. The hall behind the front doors was magnificent. It was three stories high and very wide. Beautiful rugs lined the sides of it and in the walls, archways led into other corridors. There were bronze statues of past kings at the sides of the archways, crafted in Egypt and brought down here. Red materials with yellow spots were draped from the ceiling and they were beautiful. This room was among the grandest in the palace.

  Gwafa passed into the massive archway across from the front door and that brought him to a wide hallway. In the wall across from this archway was a set of large wooden doors with carvings and drawings etched into them. There were four small stools on each side of the door with Musondal seated on them. These were the doors to the Kalarian throne room.

  “Enukal!” said the Musondal, rising to their feet as Gwafa approached. The Musondal were known by their long, green tunics with red sashes around their waists and black open tunics over the rest. The golden wraps around their heads and white cords which held them in place, were the true symbol of their order. Their swords were fixed in the sides of their sashes and their leather sandals were curved at the toes.

  As he’d done with the guards at the door, the king waved a hand at them and turned to head down the left side of the hallway. At both ends of this hallway were stairs which went upstairs.

  Once at the stairs, Gwafa went up to the second floor and straight to the door of his mother’s bedroom. Before the door were low stools with two simple guards and three maids. These guards, like those at the palace doors were dressed different from the Musondal. Simple guards wore white tunics under grey open ones and their sashes were black in color. The maids were dressed in white shirts and skirts with yellow and blue embroideries. Their faces were adorned with lines, designs and dots done
with blue-black paint. The pattern of lines and dotting differed with each maid.

  “Enukal!” greeted the guards, rising to their feet.

  “Enukal!” said the maid, dropping to their knees.

  The presence of the maids was sign the queen was around.

  “I want to see my mother,” said the king and one of the maids rose to her feet. She opened the door and led him in.

  Inside the room, there was a seating area made up of wide, thick pillows spread out on the floor. There was a metal bed frame against one wall with a mattress on it. Two large boxes were in one corner of the room and beautiful drawing of patterns and designs were done on the red walls with black paint. The other decorations on the wall were masks and colored clothes. Spears were arranged on racks on one part of the wall and in a big cane chair sat eighty-four year old Kahina, queen of Kalari and mother of King Gwafa.

  “Mame,” said Gwafa, dropping to one knee and bowing to the old woman in the cane chair.

  “I can already imagine why you are here, Gwafa,” said the woman. She was strong for her age. She still walked around and did everything on her own. Her green tunic was lined with golden threads and her arms were displays for several thin, golden bracelets.

  “As queen, you should do what is best for Kalari, mame,” said the king. Gwafa was married, but as long as his mother lived, she would hold the position of queen.

  “Including the reinstatement of a rule which was abolished by your father and the kingdom suffered nothing for it?”

  Gwafa smiled now and looked at the maid who’d brought him in.

  “Turn around, maid,” he said and the lady obeyed, doing a slow 360. She was a beauty to behold; tall with a full chest and curves which her fitted skirt accentuated. Her skin was like the queen’s creamy chocolate tone. Like the queen, this maid was of Semitic and Negroid descent. Her hair was very long, but black. Her lips were small, but her nose, slightly broad. She was beautiful.

  “Do you see this, mame?” asked the king, looking at his mother with a smile. “This is how a woman should be.” He took off his head dress and threw it on his mother’s bed. His hair was short and curly, his nose, broad, his lips thick, his skin ebony black. He spread his hands. “This is what a man should be.”

  “So a woman must be light-skinned and a man, dark?” asked his mother with a raised eyebrow.

  Gwafa laughed.

  “Mame, you know what I mean,” he said.

  “If you and I understood one another, we would not be having this discussion,” she replied.

  “I mean the perfection, mame. Like this maid, I have no blemish, no limb missing from birth, no oversized parts; just perfection.”

  “Perfection is as each views it,” said the woman.

  “What good is a one-legged man in the army, the farms, the palace?” asked the king.

  “Who said we had to put a one-legged man in the army, farms, or palace?” his mother asked back. “There are places they can serve. The dye pits, the cloth houses, pottery houses, market places, management. Need I go on?”

  The king’s smile vanished now.

  “And the spiritual filth they bring to the kingdom?” he asked.

  “Spiritual filth measured by what exactly?”

  “Since my Papa let these abominations live among us, the trade caravans going by Kalari has reduced.”

  “Yes and this has nothing to do with the fact that Egypt shut her ports as a result of her standoff with The Ottomans,” the queen spoke.

  “You will defend them no matter what,” he said.

  “And you want them dead no matter what I say,” she replied.

  The king walked to the bed and picked up his head-wrap. He held it in both hands and separated the golden circlet from it. The circlet was thick and of solid gold. Etched into it were Kalarian writing.

  “You sided with papa when he removed that great law, but now you stand against me and make my rulership difficult.” he looked at his mother now. “Do you not love me, mame?”

  It was the old woman’s turn to smile, but rather than just smile, she burst into laughter. Her son was confused by this reaction.

  “Mame?” he called.

  “You imagine you can guilt trip me into succumbing?” the woman asked him. “You know me better than that, Gwafa. My name means soothsayer and my parents were not fools to name me so, but you are a fool to think I don’t know everything before you even think it.”

  Gwafa frowned now.

  “If you do not support me, I will have the council accept and the law will still be reinstated!” he snapped.

  “I will take as many days as my refusal gets me,” the woman replied with a smug smile. “As long as I am queen, you cannot overrule me without the council unless of course you wish to dissolve the council, dissolve their autonomy and begin an empire like the one we now serve.”

  “I do not serve the Songhai!” Gwafa barked. “We are allies.”

  “Kalari is a vassal state of the Songahi, Gwafa, not an ally. You need to understand this and it will help you know that you need your people now more than ever. If you attack the autonomy of the council of chiefs, the towns could revolt and the Songhai will back them so they defeat the kingdom and seize complete power.”

  Gwafa could not argue with that. His mother was right. Any mistakes by him and Kalari would come under Songhai control proper. She was a very smart woman and he always took her advice, but not the one advising him to leave this law as it was.

  “I will have my way in the end,” he said. “You have already admitted that much.” He turned to leave.

  “I do not know where I went wrong with you and caused you to hate your own blood so,” his mother said behind him.

  He stopped at her words, but did not look back.

  “It’s not about her,” he said after a long pause then he continued towards the exit.

  The king exited the room and the queen was left with her maid. The woman’s long gray hair made her look like an old, regal, but still capable horse.

  “The king does not seem too happy, Tanin,” said the maid. “Tanin” being the word for queen among the Kalari.

  “Since mounting the throne, Gwafa has never been happy,” the queen stated.

  The maid came close to her queen and knelt by the chair. “May I speak my mind, Tanin?” she asked permission.

  “Speak.”

  “The king will eventually get the support of the council as many of them support his view.”

  “I will overrule him because the majority of those chiefs rose to power on my support,” the queen spoke confidently.

  “And the elder council?” asked the maid.

  The queen looked her in the eyes now. The old woman did not look as confident as before.

  “Now that is a realm beyond my control and hopefully one everybody has forgotten,” she stated.

  ****

  Among the several buildings at the back of the palace, one particular, large hut held what during King Amastan’s reign had been the pride and jewel of the palace. The hut was large though it was just one huge room inside. The room was not even filled up with so many comforts and beautifications, just a bed, some boxes, a sitting area of pillows and rugs all over the floor. There were no paintings, drawing, or designs on the walls. King Gwafa saw to that.

  She lay face-up on her bed, dressed in a plain white skirt and short tunic which ended halfway down her thighs. Her skirt ended at her knees and the tunic was sleeveless. Her hair was long like her mother’s, but it was blonde. It ended just at the base of her back. She wore no jewelry; had been forbidden by her older brother. She wore makeup though, blue-black dots, lines and patterns were painted on her face and arms. Her skin was so white it was almost pale. It was flawless though. She was an albino and a very beautiful one. She had never been under direct sunlight, her father had made sure of that and though her older brother would have it otherwise now, her mother countered his orders to have her move about under the sun.

  “
Varana!” cried a young female voice from the doorway. There was no door over it, just a curtain. Gwafa said it would be too expensive to fix a door.

  The albino sat up and looked at the one who’d called her “Aunty” in the Kalarian tongue. It was a pretty little girl of eight years with her long black hair which was done into three fat braids and adorned with bangles of gold and silver. A line of blue dots ran down the centre of her, forehead, along her nose and down her chin. She was like her grandmother, the queen, Semitic-Negroid, but her skin was darker than the queen’s.

  “Safiyya, why are you here?” asked the albino as the little girl ran up to her.

  “Varana,” said the girl, dropping to one knee before the albino.

  “You will get yourself in trouble with your parents, Safiyya,” said the woman.

  The girl rose up and sat next to the lady with a smile.

  “Grandmother says to ignore my parents and do what my heart says and my heart says to spend time with my aunt.”

  The albino smiled at her. Her name was Princes Lunja, daughter of the late king and only sister to the new one who hated her much for her body’s lack of proper pigmentation; a problem she had to suffer and which was beyond her control from the start. She was twenty-five years of age and had only gotten this far because of the way her father had borne her with love and care; like his egg. As her name “Lunja” meant “Fantasy princess” so had her father treated her like one. She was his fantasy daughter and he was glad she was born to him.

  “Safiyya, you know I like spending time with you, but your father and I are not exactly on speaking terms.”

  “Do not try to coat things with me, aunty,” said the girl. “My father hates you and wants you dead. Say it as it is. I am not a child anymore.”

  “I was not informed when eight became the new age of maturity,” the lady teased and the girl laughed.