by Ayana Gray
Ekon tried to keep his eyes open as she moved to the room’s corner, but it was a losing battle. He tried to move, and a groan escaped his lips. The old woman had been right, the worst of his pain was definitely gone, but he was still sore. He didn’t know how much time passed before he opened his eyes and found Themba standing over him again. This time she held a small gourd of water.
“Drink.”
His body reached before his mind could, and he took several greedy gulps. The woman watched without saying anything until he finished.
“How do you feel now?” she asked quietly.
“Better,” said Ekon.
“Good.”
Ekon hesitated, then handed the gourd back to her. “Thank you,” he said after a moment. “For helping me.”
Themba nodded.
“How did you do it?” he asked. “How did you take that pain away?”
Themba offered a small, sad smile. “You might call it . . . a gift.” She flexed her fingers, and a small shimmer danced between them.
Ekon sat up. “You’re . . . a daraja?”
“Very good, young man.”
“But I thought . . .” Ekon looked from her to his hands. “Brother Ugo . . . I thought all the darajas were gone?”
“Many are,” said Themba sadly. “But not all of us.”
Ekon closed his eyes and shook his head, trying to make the pieces come together to form something logical in his mind. A second later, he opened them and met the old woman’s gaze.
“How many more are there?” he asked. “Darajas, that is?”
“I do not know,” said Themba. “I have not communed with another daraja in years.”
“Why?”
“Because I’ve been hiding.” She moved away from him, crouching to refill the oil lamp. “It has not been safe for my kind to be in this city for a long time. I fear it is still not.”
Ekon swung his legs off the flour sacks, wincing. “I can’t stay here,” he said. “I have to go.”
Themba raised one gray eyebrow. “Lie down, child.”
“You don’t understand . . .” Ekon forced himself to stand, ignoring the new stars that filled his vision. “I have to help my friend. She’s a daraja too, and she’s been taken, she—”
“I know what trouble Koffi is in.”
Ekon stilled, the stars in his eyes temporarily forgotten. “You . . . you know Koffi? You’ve met her?”
“Only twice, though she would only remember the second time.” Themba’s eyes held a distinct sadness. “The time before that, she was only a baby.”
Ekon stared at her a moment, confused. “I don’t understand. Koffi didn’t even know what she was until recently. How could you know?”
“Because I’ve known Koffi for a very long time,” said Themba. “Even if she did not know me. Even if she was not allowed to know me.”
“But—”
Themba stood, raising a hand to silence him, but her eyes were not unkind.
“Rest, child.” She crossed the room and gently pushed Ekon back onto the flour sacks. “The important thing for you to do is heal.”
There was something familiar about the woman up close, though Ekon couldn’t put his finger on it as he fell back against the sacks. “I have to find Koffi . . .”
“Sleep,” she insisted. “Tomorrow, when you are better, we will come up with a plan.”
Ekon’s eyes were closed and the words were fading. Themba spoke so quietly, he wasn’t sure he’d heard what she muttered to herself.
“And then we will find my granddaughter.”
AUTHOR’S NOTE
In May of 2015, while I sat in a bedroom surrounded by moving boxes, I started to write a story that would—many years later—become the iteration of Beasts of Prey that most know today. The story has evolved significantly over time, transforming from a vague, ambitious idea in my head to a fully realized fantasy novel brimful with all the trappings I both adored and longed to see in young adult literature. As I wrote and revised this story over the years, it became more than a creative outlet for me; it also became a device of catharsis, a chance for me to explore, reclaim, and celebrate a heritage that was violently erased as a consequence of transatlantic slavery.
I refer to Beasts of Prey as a Pan-African fantasy because—although Eshōza is not at all a real place—much of its influence and inspiration has been shaped by the very real continent of Africa. The decision not to focus on one region of Africa was a deliberate one; as a Black American woman, the reality is that I will never know exactly (or even approximately) where my ancestors lived and thrived prior to their capture, so this story honors cultures, mythos, and folklore from across different regions of the continent. It also explores the phenomenon of being the product of a forced diaspora. If you are familiar with African and African American studies, you may have caught some of the subtle and overt references included in the pages of this story, but I feel here it’s my due diligence to lay things out in no uncertain terms for those who may have questions.
A prominent but largely unseen character featured in Beasts of Prey is the famed naturalist-scholar Satao Nkrumah. While he is not based on any real person, he is named after two distinct figures. The first is Kwame Nkrumah (1909–1972), who was a prominent Ghanaian scholar and political figure largely acknowledged as one of the fathers of Pan-Africanism, the ideology that encourages unity among people of Afro descent. The name Satao comes, incidentally, from an elephant. Those who know me well know that I am deeply partial to elephants. Satao the Elephant (1968–2014) was a Kenyan “tusker” best known for having rare tusks so long they nearly brushed the ground. In May of 2014, he was tortured and killed by ivory poachers in a devastating blow to East African wildlife preservation. Thusly, Satao Nkrumah is named after a revolutionary man and a beautiful elephant.
There are several small nods to anti-colonialists and Pan-African political leaders throughout the world. For me, it was important that Ekon—a young Black man who loves books—be surrounded not just by scholars, but by scholars who looked like him. Black scholarship, literature, and history have been historically marginalized, Othered, and otherwise diminished over time; simply put, I wanted Ekon to exist in a world where Black excellence was preserved and celebrated, as we see in places like the Temple of Lkossa’s library. You’ll note if you read that several of the masters of the temple where he lives are named after acclaimed Black political leaders and revolutionaries like Nnamdi “Zik” Azikiwe (the first president of Nigeria), Julius Nyerere (the first president of Tanganyika, which is now modern-day Tanzania), Jomo Kenyatta (the first president of Kenya), Patrice Lumumba (the first prime minister of the independent Democratic Republic of the Congo), and Marcus Garvey (the founder of the Universal Negro Improvement Association and African Communities League).
The Zamani language used throughout Beasts of Prey is based on the Swahili language, which is spoken primarily in Eastern Africa by approximately 11 million people to date. It should be clear that I do not speak Swahili fluently, but I chose it as my base language because I’ve always found it to be a beautiful language, and it is where my own name—Ayana—comes from. Arabic-speaking readers may notice that some Swahili words are similar or the same in Arabic; this is because after years of trade and cultural exchange, Swahili has evolved and adopted some Arabic words. While I did at one point consider using a “conlang” (a constructed language) for Beasts of Prey, I ultimately decided that to do so was a form of Othering. Growing up, I saw many languages from the European continent used in fantasy, but never saw any languages based from the African continent, and I wanted to change that.
The mythological beings and creatures in this story are—for the most part—drawn from real lore across the African continent, and they are one of the things I most enjoyed while writing this story. While jokomotos aren’t from any myth (I couldn’t find a creature from
folklore that fit the description I needed), the rest are. What Ekon once said about grootslangs is true—they come from South African mythology, and it’s believed that gods split the grootslang into two distinct animals (elephants and snakes) to make it less fearsome.
Biloko (the plural of eloko) come from the Mongo people of the Democratic Republic of Congo in Central Africa. According to Mongo lore, they are vicious, dwarfish creatures who live in the thickest parts of rain forests and jungles. They are known to take the forms of innocent children, wear bells that can be used to cast spells on the unsuspecting, and have an insatiable taste for human flesh and bone. In many myths, it is often the “foolish” woman who is tricked by biloko, and so in Beasts of Prey I chose to subvert that trope and have Ekon be the one who is tricked by one.
Yumboes come from the Wolof people of Senegal in West Africa. There are inconsistencies about their origins and appearances, and evidence suggests myths may have evolved after the European invasion in West Africa, but generally speaking, they are known to be kind fairy-like entities who dance in moonlight and love lavish feasts. I wanted to include them in Beasts of Prey because I thought they sounded lovely, and I also wanted at least one of the beings that Koffi and Ekon encounter in the Greater Jungle to be friendly.
The umdhlebi tree (sometimes spelled umdhlebe) is another creation of Zulu lore in South Africa and has been called the dead-man’s tree in real life. Its Latin name is Euphorbia cupularis, and though it is not known to be toxic or poisonous in modernity, the oral stories of its power are terrifying.
The Six gods of Eshōza are not real, and the religion they come from is entirely constructed. While the African continent is brimful with fascinating and beautiful religions—including variations of Islam, Christianity, and more locally based religions—I did not feel it was appropriate to use a real religion that people adhere to and practice in a fantasy novel.
The Yabas and Gedes are not real peoples, but they do represent a small fraction of the diverse ethnic populations that often reside side by side throughout African countries and regions. Despite the fact that—to an outsider—many of these peoples look phenotypically the same, they often speak different languages, observe different religions and traditions, and sometimes don’t even get along.
In Beasts of Prey, there is a chapter called “The Mamba and the Mongoose” that became one of my favorites to write based on its truth. In fact, the eastern black mamba is one of the deadliest snakes in the world; its venom can kill a grown man in approximately fifteen minutes, and most who are bitten by it die simply because they do not have enough time to receive medical aid. It’s also true that the mongoose is the black mamba’s mortal enemy. Fascinatingly, mongooses’ cells have evolved so that they are essentially immune to the mamba’s poisoning, and coupled with their own incredible speed, they are all but impervious to it. Watching a fight between them is one of nature’s true wonders.
Lastly, the lore of the Shetani—which means “demon” in Swahili—was partially inspired by a real occurrence that took place in Kenya between March and December of 1898. As it happened, for several months, two brother lions systematically stalked and brutally killed construction workers who were trying to build the Kenya-Uganda Railway that was meant to bring the two countries together. Lions in the Tsavo area weren’t an unusual occurrence, but the behavior of these particular lions was what made them strange (male lions usually don’t hunt, and they certainly don’t hunt together). At one point, the killings became so bad that the railroad was in danger of not being finished. Eventually, the brother lions—nicknamed “The Ghost” and “The Darkness”—were hunted down and killed, but the mystery of why they started hunting humans remains unsolved more than a century later.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Beasts of Prey, or BOP, as I affectionately call it, is my proudest creative expression to date, a gathering of wishes and hopes come to fruition. There are so many people I want to thank from my heart for helping me realize this dream in all the big and small ways.
I owe my first thanks to my literary agent and fiercest advocate in the publishing world: the extraordinary Pete Knapp. Pete, what you do every day for the world of children’s literature is nothing short of pure magic. Thank you for believing in this story with your whole heart, and for believing in me. Thank you for answering every single one of my questions, for turning RuPaul’s Drag Race into an important lesson in character development, and reminding me to never be afraid to ask for the moon. A sincere thank-you as well to Emily Sweet, Andrea Mai, and the fabulous team at Park & Fine!
My second thanks is to my sensational editor, Stacey Barney. Stacey, from the start you shepherded BOP through the publishing world with unrivaled care, and I know I am a better writer because of your keen editorial eye (speaking of eyes, you were right; there were far too many!). Thank you for being a kindred spirit on this journey, and for our enthused discussions of food processors and T-Pain. Most of all, thank you for not “letting me out the house with my slip showing.” (I remembered!)
Beasts of Prey simply wouldn’t be the book it is without the incredible teams at Penguin Young Readers and G. P. Putnam’s Sons Books for Young Readers, who showed it so much love and enthusiasm from the beginning. A heartfelt thanks in no particular order to Jennifer Loja, Jennifer Klonsky, Felicia Frazier, Emily Romero, Kim Ryan, Shanta Newlin, Carmela Iaria, Alex Garber, Venessa Carson, Summer Ogata, Lathea Mondesir, Olivia Russo, Ashley Spruill, Cindy Howle, Caitlin Tutterow, Shannon Span, Bezi Yohannes, James Akinaka, and of course Felicity Vallence (Aussie! Aussie! Aussie!). I truly hope this story makes you all proud.
A tremendous thank-you to Ruth Bennett, Natalie Doherty, and Asmaa Isse of Penguin Random House UK for bringing BOP “across the pond” and introducing it to new readers in the United Kingdom and greater Commonwealth. It is a joy to know my book will find a home in places I myself have not yet been.
Thank you so much to my dynamic film agent, Berni Barta, for championing this book in the film industry with such genuine passion and fervor.
I’m so grateful to Theresa Evangelista, the brilliant mind who transformed BOP from a messy document on my laptop into something so beautiful. Theresa, thank you for your care, vision, and talent! Thank you to Marikka Tamura for bringing the pages of this book to life with such thoughtful and perfectly-rendered design. I owe a heartfelt thanks to Virginia Allyn for the incredible hand-drawn maps seen at the beginning of this book.
Not least of all, I am indebted to Chandra Wohleber, who probably (definitely) saved me from utter embarrassment multiple times during copyedits. Thank you, Chandra.
There is a special group of people who have been friends to me throughout BOP’s publication journey. They’ve been critique partners, confidantes, and an irreplaceable support system that I couldn’t have made it through without. Thank you to Lauren Blackwood, Lane Clarke, Natalie Crown, Alechia Dow, J. Elle, N. T. Poindexter, Emily Thiede, and Amélie Wen Zhao. A special thanks to Maiya Ibrahim, who has read BOP more than anyone else and been a true friend.
To Roshani Chokshi, my trusted Virgil on this voyage: I’m so glad the universe brought us together in the throes of a pandemic. “Thank you” will never quite encompass how grateful I am for all you are, but I am thankful for the advice, the endless support, and the reminder to “always hide my fangs so they never see the bite.”
Thank you to the authors of my favorite stories: Some of you wrote works that changed my life, and some of you graciously reached back to encourage a fledging author full of nerves and silly questions: Sabaa Tahir, Renée Ahdieh, Leigh Bardugo, Shelby Mahurin, Brigid Kemmerer, Adalyn Grace, Kate Johnston, Samantha Shannon, and Shannon “S. A.” Chakraborty.
I would not have reached this milestone without the support of so many friends in the online writing community: Daniel Aleman, Veronica Bane, Rena Barron, TJ Benton, Kat Cho, Becca Coffindaffer, Tracy Deonn, Brenda Drake, Ryan Douglass, Sarah Nicolas, Kellye
Garrett, Stephanie Jones, Allie Levick, Lori Lee, Taj McCoy, Cass Newbould, Molly Night, Claribel Ortega, Tóla Okogwu, Tómi Oyemakinde, Jamar Perry, Ryan Ramkelawan, Irene Reed, Jesse Sutanto, Jeida Storey, Brandon Wallace, Catherine Adel West, and Margot Wood. Thank you to the bloggers, book reviewers, librarians, booksellers, and educators who supported and championed this book from the start. I’m also so grateful to the Black influencers and creatives who really rallied behind me on social media as BOP debuted—your voices are truly powerful.
To Corey and Ashley: Thank you for every adventure—good, bad, and otherwise. Thank you for your love and support, and for always being the reason I want to do good in the world. I hope every single one of your dreams come true, and that I’m always there to see it.
To Mom and Dad: Thank you for the Yellow House, for Big Top Circus, for always doing my hair no matter how old I get, and for mac ’n’ cheese and sweet potato pie that always tastes like home. Thank you for letting me borrow as many books as I could carry from the library, and for pretending not to notice when I kept writing under the covers after you told me to go to bed. Thank you for teaching me to “push through” and to be kind. I love you both.
To Grandma Elezora, Grandma Geri, and Grandpa Ronald: Thank you for your love and for giving me small pieces of yourselves to make me who I am. To Grandpa George, Grandma D, and my beloved Grandpa Aston: I’m so sorry you weren’t here to see this moment, but I hope it makes you proud. I miss you terribly all the time.
To my many aunts, uncles, and cousins: Thank you for raising me, for uplifting me, and for watering a little flower so that she could grow. Thanks also to my Aussie family for reminding me that I am loved all over the world. To Paul, Gail, Matt, Natalie, Brett, Michael, Tarek, Huda, Medina, and Latifa: mahalo nui!
To Aunt Meredith and Aunt Rhonda: Thank you for so many laughs and beautiful moments, and for reminding me that God did not give me a spirit of fear.
