The story revolves around a nineteen year old intelligent young scientist, Kiwakaazi, in ancient Africa. He was accused and found guilty of an incident that claimed many lives in the then Nibooman (Land of Inventions or Western Empire) of Africa. As punishment, he was banished to find a special plant that bears a special flower in Nomposuro (dark and evil forest). There was only one slight problem. The kranjus (immortal guardians) stand in his way. How is thin, weak and naive Kiwakaazi going to survive in Nomposuro? The epic and yet very spiritual journey of Kiwakaazi and other related stories has been captured in this story. Hope you enjoy it!
The Wosu’s sword pierced Zakaru’s impregnable armor and traveled towards his heart. Zakaru grabbed hold of the Wosu’s (shadow’s) sword with his right hand firmly; so firm was his grip that Zabugi Gbeleda vuju (key to hell) cut his right palm and drew blood from Zakaru. He should have died instantly. That was what the Wosu expected but Zakaru survived. He began feeling dizzy but he was very much alive.
Kiwakaazi sat down with Deila. He was exhausted. The impregnable armor around his body started to disappear starting from his feet. Slowly every piece of the black vest that protected Kiwakaazi’s body was gone. He returned to his human self, wearing only a pair of tight and short blue shorts. Once the impregnable armor disappeared, every cut and pain he sustained during the battle rushed in but he put on a brave face and endured it like a true champion and you know why; because he does not want Deila to worry. He would rather he does the worrying and not the other way round. He rested his back on a tree and placed Deila’s head on his lap. He held out his right palm and by just pointing the tip of the kafunde to his palm, it rushed in and disappeared. Deila asked, “Does it not scare you?” Kiwakaazi answered, “No!”
Deila spoke again in an attempt to explain something. “Kay… about what happened in the valley of peace…?” Kiwakaazi quickly interrupted. He said, “You do not have to explain your actions. This journey requires maximum attention. Besides if I had fallen in love so deeply with someone like you did, I am sure I may have reservations about doing something like that too.” Deila was shocked. ‘How did he know?’ she wondered. She closed her eyes and said, “Fine, let us rest for a while and continue our journey.”
The Wosu wore a grin and gaped into Zakaru’s eyes as if to say remember this face you dying son of a loser. While looking into Zakaru’s eyes, the Wosu noticed the appearance of red marks extending from under Zakaru’s eyes. He watched the mark increase in length. He moved his eyes to watch something above. It was Zakaru’s slayer. Sidiata (The Immortal) had it raised. His facial expression changed. It was a mixture of worry and fear. He did not expect Zakaru to have any strength left. He should be dead already. Anyway, he quickly ignored the knot that was tightening in his belly. There was no way the slayer could cut his body. That was simply impossible. Zakaru lowered his slayer aiming for the Wosu’s right hand. Zakaru’s slayer met the shadow’s wrist and for the first time, cut it — a small but deep enough cut to spill a little of the Wosu’s blood.
Who knows, maybe it was the pain; maybe it was surprise or maybe it was just a reflex action. Whatever it was, the Wosu let go of his sword for the first time ever and Zakaru pulled it out of his chest quickly. The Wosu knew it. He should have paid more attention to the knot that tightening inside his gut. He should have braced himself for the worst. Losing his sword; the key to hell coincided with an attack from behind him. No one knew who called it forth or where it came from. But a golden sword penetrated the Shadow’s back from behind and through his chest, and, disappeared. Zakaru himself was losing his impregnable armor. By the time the Wosu’s chest had been run through, he had lost his wool-like vest completely. Both immortals collapsed.
Zakaru woke up suddenly. He might have been having a bad dream. He looked around and saw many of his men surrounding him. He noticed a glow of light in their eyes that was not initially there. They might have been terribly worried about him. They explained to him that when he collapsed after his battle with the Wosu, his breathing was faint. For a moment there they feared the worst. They immediately called the herbal doctor who struggled to find a pulse. The herbal doctor however advised that he should be allowed to rest. He has therefore been lying there half dead for the past four days. “Four days you say?” questioned Zakaru. Most of his men nodded. Only one man kneeling at the foot of his bed answered saying, “Yes your majesty!” Zakaru faced this man and asked, “What happened to the Wosu?”
“What happened to all the beautiful plants? Why are they dying?” asked Deila. “I think killing Kun the controller of the plants must have affected them.” “Maybe you should not have killed him,” complained Deila, with a wicked smile on her face. “You are right. I guess I could have made him my friend and then do away with you once and for all,” said Kiwakaazi teasingly. She laughed out loud and argued, “Unfortunately, you are stuck with me.” “I am regretting killing him already,” was Kiwakaazi’s response. Deila could not stop laughing. She was even more impressed with his subtle sense of humor. She never thought he had any sense of humor. He was slowing filling up the space in her heart. She could feel it. She did not want it but she was powerless to it. Kiwakaazi rushed past her and standing in front of her exclaimed, “Wow! This place never cease to surprise!”
The man whom was kneeling lifted his head to look into the eyes of the Gondanwura (the ruler who sits on the lion’s skin). He had a familiar face. It was Zeiba, Zakaru’s older brother. He answered saying, “After both of you collapsed, we moved to carry you back to camp for treatment. The warriors of Dagbaala also did the same. Two of their warriors stepped forward; wrapping the Wosu’s arms around their shoulder, they intended to carry him away. But suddenly, the Dagbaala leader opened his eyes, and started running around and screaming. His screams were loud and heartbreaking. He cried and begged an unseen being for a second chance. Only he knows what he saw. Then before our very eyes, his body melted into a slimy liquid.”
Zakaru closed his eyes and appeared to be saying a word of prayer for his opponent. He opened his eyes and said, “So that is how he left the world in the end.” He threw the sheets that covered his body to his side and climbed out of his bed. His bed was nothing fancy. It was simply a mattress placed on a short rectangular table. He wore only a piece of cloth around his waist and almost collapsed once again. He was immediately caught by his elder brother who begged him to rest. He said, “You are the last immortal standing after an impossible battle. Please rest and command me. I am your humble servant who will do anything you command.”
Kiwakaazi and Deila had another beautiful scene before their eyes. A large area of the forest had been cleared and shaped into a perfect circle. Some very beautiful and carefully placed square bricks had been laid on the floor of the circle. On each brick was the drawing of an insect; cockroaches, butterflies, termites, bees, wasps, etc. It was like the work of a passionate entomologist. At the center was a large brick on which a spider had also been painted. Bordering this circle at equal intervals were a number of torches. These torches were made of a piece of stick that does not burn out. This magnificent work of art had been done in different colors. It was just splendid and Kiwakaazi and Deila could not stop admiring it. They hurriedly entered this suspicious circle. Deila cried, “Kay, come here! Look at this. Isn’t it beautiful?” Kiwakaazi just stared. It was the beautiful painting of perhaps the most beautiful butterfly Kiwakaazi had ever seen. Words were not required. Only the eyes could appreciate the beauty of the artwork because sometimes there are no words to describe beauty at its best.
They were admiring the artwork when they felt the earth shake slightly under their feet — like a slight earth tremor. They wondered what could possibly be happening. The shaking stopped for a while and started again this time shaking more vigorously. Kiwakaazi and Deila threw their arms around each other and held on. The large square at the center moved downwards and disappeared. The earth continued to shake until seven large spiders crawled out of the hole. Riding on top of the seventh spider to crawl out was another short man who wore a frown. When he dismounted, all the spiders crawled back into the hole and a square sealed the entrance. This second dwarf was very identical to Kun. However, he wore a large pair of black shorts and his body was covered with tattoos — circles in which insects have been drawn. He shook his head and said, “I can’t believe that useless Kun allowed you two to defeat him. Now my sleep has been interrupted and that makes me really angry. The only way my anger will be satiated is if you two surrender your lives over to me. Now who will go first?”
Kiwakaazi and Deila did not understand. But after fighting Kun, Kiwakaazi realized that maybe just maybe he could reason with the Kranjus (immortal guardians). There was no need for them to fight. He came to Nomposuro in peace. All he wants is the guanvibushi to save the people of the west and he will be on his way. He does not want to harm anyone. He told the dwarf this but the dwarf was too angry to hear his stupid words. Kiwakaazi tried again this time suggesting, “Why don’t you at least tell us your name and something about this beautiful circle of insects you have here.” This certainly might have hit a nerve. Only a few people have travelled as far as the second dwarf’s home inside Nomposuro but none of them ever expressed interest in his art. He blushed. “Fine, I will tell you about the Kokrowa (the circle of eternity) before I kill you both,” answered the second dwarf in a calmer voice.
Zakaru said, “A long time ago I had a dream. I wanted to be stronger than my father. He rejected me when I was born and showed me no affection. Now, I have seen the light. The world comprises of two people; those who are strong like my father and those who are weak like me. The strong comprises of those who are wealthy; they are warriors or men with knowledge and power. They take pride in who they are and what they have and look down on those who are not like them — the so called weak. But it all ends now. Send this message to every corner of the earth. Tell the chiefs and the strong men of every village that Zakaru Sidiata is coming for them all. And he will show no mercy.”
[Continued]
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