THE LEGEND OF KIWAKAAZI

Aran first saw his father fighting when he was only six years old. Bagunasango had a sand arena created at the back of his house. A few benches surrounded the almost circular arena. Aran sat on one of the benches and was completely awed. Bagunasango handled two wooden swords. Six men surrounded him. They all attacked at once and after two or three minutes, all six men were lying around his father’s feet groaning and moaning in pain. It all happened too quickly for Aran to follow and comprehend. His father stood with his two wooden swords. His skin unharmed and his face as serious as ever. Aran watched his father train since that day until he was ten.

Four years had passed and still Aran could not follow his father’s movements. Once again six men were lying down moaning in pain. Aran sat on the bench wondering how he could do it when Bagunasango called out to him. Baguna shouted, “Aran, grab a sword and join me!” Aran was both scared and excited. The thought that his father was finally going to train him excited him but the thought of not being impressive terrified the daylights out of him.

Aran sluggishly picked up a wooden sword with his left hand. His father yelled from behind him, “Have I not warned you?!” and attacked. Aran was so frightened that he dropped the wooded sword. He turned only to see his angry father coming at him. Baguna’s wooden sword in his left was raised and being lowered to crush poor ten year old Aran’s head.

It was probably just instincts or perhaps Aran had good reflexes. He quickly picked up the sword he dropped with his left again and held it over his head. His father’s sword smashed Aran’s sword into two. Aran quickly let go of his broken wooden sword, rolled on the ground and appeared behind his father. Bagunasango turned. He looked calm and smiled. He said, “Well done my son. You have the skill but you lack power. Now, I will teach you how to develop power.”

Now, at age nineteen, he had plenty of power and his fight with Kiwakaazi was testament of just how powerful Aran had become.

Aran swung his wooden sword aiming for Kiwakaazi’s head. Kiwakaazi quickly ducked and put some distance between himself and Aran. Aran sizing his brother noticed Kiwakaazi was panting. Aran asked, “Don’t tell me you are already tired, Mangozi (my brother)?” Kiwakaazi smiled and said, “This is just the beginning.” Aran said, “Good!” and jumped to attack. It was as if for a moment there he was flying. His sword was high and came down with great speed and force. Kiwakaazi held his sword over his head.

“Power neither comes from the muscles nor the bones. Power comes from within. When you breathe in you draw in power. Hold that power within and unleash it upon your opponent while you exhale. He will not know what hit him,” was the first lesson on power Bagunasango gave to Aran on that day. 

“Not again!” thought Kiwakaazi. He quickly held his sword with both arms over his head while he was forced to his knees by Aran’s powerful attack. Aran lifted his sword and lowered it two more times. The third time was a fake, he stopped halfway down and rather attacked Kiwakaazi’s chest with his left foot.

Now, let’s go back some nine years to the village of Sheikilabar in the Northern Empire. Young Kiwakaazi was kneeling and crying. Two large and muscular men blocked his path in an alley on a sunny afternoon and two similar men cut him off from behind. There was quite some distance between him and the two men in front and behind him. While crying, Kiwakaazi muttered the words, “I only stole from you because I was hungry. Please don’t hurt me.”

One of the two men; the one on the left in front moved briskly towards Kiwakaazi — a thief. His brother or friend on his right cautioned, “Be careful, this boy is a very dangerous thief.” The one walking towards Kiwakaazi laughed out loudly and said, “What can this skinny boy do to me? He is cornered and has nowhere to go.” When he got close to Kiwakaazi, he tried to grab Kiwakaazi’s arm. Quickly, Kiwakaazi bit the man’s arm. He screamed in pain and let go of Kiwakaazi. Kiwakaazi got up and ran straight ahead. The two behind him pursued and the one in front of him waited to grab him. He thought, “I am not letting you get past me, thief.”

Back to Aran and Kiwakaazi II: Kiwakaazi II lowered his arm and used the hilt of his wooden sword to strike Aran’s attacking foot. Aran’s foot was deflected back to the ground. Kiwakaazi II, without rising to his feet, swung his sword aiming for Aran’s stomach. Aran leapt backwards. Kiwakaazi II quickly rose to his feet, screamed and stepped forward to attack.

He passed his wooden sword from right to left and attacked Aran’s right. Aran easily blocked it with his wooden sword. Then Kiwakaazi passed his wooden sword from left back to right. Once again Aran blocked it. Kiwakaazi opened his left palm and let go of his sword. Aran watched him closely and followed the movement of Kiwakaazi’s arms and sword. But instead of catching with his left, Kiwakaazi caught his sword with his right. He swung it from left to right and followed it quickly with a left punch. Aran ducked and caught Kiwakaazi’s punch with his right palm. The two friends, or better the two brothers, were locked staring into each other’s eyes with determination and a cheeky smile. Aran said, “I am impressed with your movements.” Kiwakaazi said, “And you are living up to your name.”

Back to Kiwakaazi nine years ago: Kiwakaazi was lying down. He somehow got past the man but ran into something and felt flat on his back. Actually, it was not a something but an arm; the arm of an old man probably in his sixties. Kiwakaazi could not believe his luck. He had almost escaped. All he had to do was to make that turn on his left but someone stuck out a firm arm. He run straight into it and fell flat on his back. His head hit the ground hard and it hurt. Three of the four men caught up with him. They all arrived at the same time and looked both shocked and terrified. One of them stammered. “It’s you...!”

Kiwakaazi and Aran both attacked with a knee; with their left knees. They both got hit by a knee in the abdomen and moved a few steps backwards. They screamed, and each lifted their sword and swung it. The wooden swords collided mid-air and broke into two. They both discarded the part that remained in their arms. It was now time to use the fist.

Yen Zamaya (White bringer of death) was the name of the most feared man in the Northern Empire at the time. The reign of Muaazi Hatam bin Sadiq bin Ali (Peaceful Ruler Hatam son of Sadiq the son of Ali) was a particularly troubling period in the history of the North. Some members of the royal family felt Hatam’s elder brother Farouq should lead. It was not long when the Kings and chiefs also chose sides. The Northern Empire faced a possible civil war. To avoid that, Muaazi Hatam commanded his strongest soldier Salam to eliminate all those who opposed him. Salam went on a killing spree. He killed Farouq and all the members of the royal family who opposed the Muaazi. He killed the Kings, chiefs and all important men and women whom chose Farouq’s side.

People saw a man dressed in white; a long white shirt and a long white trouser wearing white slippers and a white turban entering homes. He would leave with all the members of that particular household dead. When they were asked, they said they saw “Yen Zamaya” (White bringer of death).

Back to Aran and Kiwakaazi: Aran tackled Kiwakaazi’s mid-rib with his shoulders and locked his arms around Kiwakaazi’s waist. Kiwakaazi attacked Aran’s back with his elbow but Aran did not let go. He pushed Kiwakaazi to the ground. Aran pinned Kiwakaazi to the ground by placing his right arm across Kiwakaazi’s chest. He punched Kiwakaazi across the face over and over again. Kiwakaazi II was weak. Aran clenched his left fist and whispered “I am sorry brother” and swung it for what would be the last time. This time, he aimed for Kiwakaazi II’s nose.

They say the last kill of Salam changed him. He killed a woman whom had just given birth to a girl. The baby was not even three days old. He ran his sword through the stomach of the baby’s mother. She summoned all her strength and whispered “Abiba.” He was standing over her dead body wondering “who is Abiba?” when he heard a baby crying. Ruthless Salam entered the baby’s room and when he saw the girl, something changed within him. He took the baby, burned down the house and disappeared. He took the girl to Sheikilabar where he raised her like she was his own.

Now, all four men who were in pursuit of Kiwakaazi were staring at this man many supposed was this Yen Zamaya. He still loved white. He was wearing a white long sleeved shirt, a long white trouser and a white turban. He said, “I hear this boy stole from you. What exactly did he steal?”

Back to Aran and his father, Bagunasango: To develop power, a strict training plan was prepared for Aran. He woke up at exactly three in the morning to perform his breathing exercise. He would come out of his room and sit quietly in front of his door taking in deep breaths for about an hour. Then he would run a mile. He would begin punching a bag filled with sand that hung on a metal pole around his father’s training arena. Then the last thing he would do before training with wooden swords would be to once again sit down and quietly breathe in and out. Bagunasango challenged his son to a real fight two months after he turned thirteen. This time, it would be with real swords. Aran was nervous but once again determined to prove a point. To increase the stakes, Bagunasango invited some of his friends, majority of whom were elders and men in Southern Empire army.

Back to Kiwakaazi and Yen Zamaya: One of the four men stammered while saying, “Only a few grains of corn.” “How much is that worth in gold?” asked Yen Zamaya. A second man said, “Don’t worry about that.” Yen Zamaya insisted on paying for what the boy had stolen. A third man said, “You give us anything or nothing. We will still be grateful.” Yen Zamaya put his hand in his pocket and moved it around there for about fifteen seconds. He pulled out his hand and the men jumped back. He smiled and asked them to calm down before offering them five pieces of gold. He asked, “Will this cover it?” They all nodded. One of the four stretched out his arm, took the money and thanked Yen Zamaya again for his generosity before they turned and run like dogs with their tails between their legs. Yen Zamaya said, “Get up boy, and follow me.” Kiwakaazi did not know why but he got up and followed him indeed.

They arrived at Yen Zamaya’s home; a beautiful small house built with wood and roofed with something metallic. I am guessing aluminium. A young woman in her thirties sat at the entrance waiting. When she saw Yen Zamaya, she got up and ran towards him. She asked, “Where have you been? I was worried sick about you when I came to visit and met no one!” Yen Zamaya smiled and said, “I am fine. I just had to go and find him again.” She asked, “And is that him?” sizing up Kiwakaazi. He said, “Yes! Abiba, meet Kiwakaazi — the chosen leader.”

Arangosango and his father’s fight had lasted for about thirty minutes. Those who watched the fight agreed that Arangosango held great potential. They nodded while they watched him take on the great Bagunasango. Then they saw Baguna push his son to the limit with relentless attacks swinging his sword with power and speed. Aran blocked each one with his own sword but was being pushed back. He jumped and stood on a bench. Then, Bagunasango swung his sword aiming for Aran’s neck. Aran quickly ducked and swung his sword aiming for his father’s stomach. Both actions occurred concurrently. Bagunasango pulled his stomach in and adjusted his body so that he would not get cut. But Aran quickly got up and swung his sword again this time aiming for his father’s face. Baguna pulled back but his reaction was not quick or precise enough. Aran cut his father around the brow. Baguna stopped. He touched his brow with two or three of his left fingers. He looked at the fingers and saw his blood. It was the first time in a long time he was seeing his own blood.

“Why have you brought me to your house?” inquired Kiwakaazi. Yen Zamaya answered, “Because you impressed me with the way you handled those four men. Great warriors have skill, power and experience but greater warriors have the keenest instincts. I will train you to become a greater warrior.”

Kiwakaazi’s training did not even involve weapons. During his first year with Yen Zamaya every day was training. One morning, he was standing in front of a cupboard filled with books when suddenly the cupboard and the books came crushing down on him. He reacted slowly and almost died. The morning of another day, he was fetching water from a well when a stone was thrown at him. It struck his head and drew blood. One evening, he was sitting at a table and eating when suddenly the table collapsed. His food ended up on the floor and he had to eat the food because he had been starved the whole morning and afternoon. It was getting very difficult. But by the end of the year, he had gotten used to those random attacks. It was like he could sense them before they came and defended himself well against each one of them the second and third times of asking.

The second year was different. Old man Zamaya had a huge plot of land. He used some for farming but there was still plenty left. He prepared a small part to train Kiwakaazi. Kiwakaazi had to run from one end to the next; about a 70m race.

The first time he ran he jumped at a spot while running. There was a pit there covered with loose soil and he sensed it. Then, he tripped an invisible wire triggering the release of arrows. He lay on the ground and crawled on his stomach to avoid being hit. He turned his body and was laying on his left hand. If he had not quickly turned, three spears sticking out of the soil would have killed him. This was Kiwakaazi’s routine and training plan until Yen Zamaya passed away about two months after they begun that kind of training.

Back to the fight between Aran and Kiwakaazi: Aran’s final fist struck Kiwakaazi II’s forehead instead. Kiwakaazi II was weak but he was able to lift his head. His head must have been really hard because not only did it break Aran’s fingers but affected his entire left arm. Aran screamed in pain right before Kiwakaazi II was able to turn him over to his left.

Both warriors rose to their feet. Aran could not even raise his left hand. He made a fist with his right only. Kiwakaazi II’s face was swollen and he was bleeding from above his eyes, nose and mouth. His right eye was almost completely blind. While moving like a drunkard, he made fists and attacked.

Kiwakaazi swung his left hand and Aran lifted his right arm to defend himself. But Kiwakaazi pulled back the left and punched Aran in the face with his right. Then, he punched Aran in the abdomen. He held Aran’s head and used his knee to strike Aran’s face. Aran fell flat on his back and stayed on his back.

The Asoglis who supported Kiwakaazi jubilated and those who supported Aran frowned. After the fight, Kiwakaazi offered Aran a hand. Aran took it and rose to his feet. The two brothers hugged. The jubilation stopped and brothers offered hands to brothers; sisters and children hugged — we are one family, after all. Aran whispered, “Let us do this again some other time,” into Kiwakaazi’s ear. Kiwakaazi II replied, “Let me know when you are ready.” Later, he was there when Kiwakaazi II one day changed into a Rahasi while wielding the Sikan nifanum (five-edged sword). He knew since that day that he would need more power to defeat his brother.

So one day when the chance came, he took it. He heard a voice. The voice convinced him. He would obtain enough power to be able to defeat his rival. He accepted the call and became Aran Shinko — the grand shinko — leader of a group of beasts called the shinkos (furry beasts).