NANA’S LAUGHTER RIPPLES through our dream of a girl strolling hand in hand with her father. One moment, Nana Gyata su is striding between us on the riverbank. Next, he’s purring, his lion’s head on my lap as Nana asks him why he’s appeared.
‘I need to talk to you both,’ he says, ‘before the rains arrive, drowning us in danger.’
‘Danger?’ I reply.
He growls, raising his head. ‘Danger of the worst kind. Our village divided will destroy the veil that’s kept us hidden for generations. Unless we prepare for the challenges ahead, lives are going to be lost. Will you be the plover that picks meat from the crocodile’s teeth?’
‘What do you mean?’ I ask.
It seems impossible, but even as a lion, he appears to smile at me. A huge shiver of a smile that warms my heart and shakes my soul.
‘Will you meet danger with intelligence?’ he demands. ‘Will you confront lies with truth?’
Nana nods on my behalf, then explains. ‘You behave like a plover with your mother, Sheba. You take what you need but when her mouth snaps shut, you’re off like a bird. We need you on our side to face what the future’s about to bring.’
Fear flickers over my face.
‘You’re braver than you realise,’ says my ancestor. ‘I’ve watched you over the years and talked about you with your grandmother. What’s more,’ he adds, ‘whenever you’ve seen me prowling the corridors of our home, whether as a man or a lion, you’ve never once flinched. You’ve always welcomed me and that’s exceptional.’
I stroke the lion’s jowls, but as I’m about to bury my face in his mane, he changes yet again. He is younger now, and Nana is no longer an elder, but a young woman, same as me. We lie either side of him, cradled in his arms. My head on his shoulder, I think – is this what having a father feels like? Is this what I’ve been missing?
Within a heartbeat he says, ‘Our parents stay with us, Sheba, even when we think they’re gone. They’re never far away, even when they seem to be.’
‘Will I ever see my father?’ I ask him. ‘Will he ever come to me in my dreams like you have now?’
‘You’ll have to wait and see.’ He chuckles, a rumble of a laugh, half-way between a purr and a roar; a laugh that reminds me of Aunt Ruby and Nana when they slap their thighs cackling and, bodies shaking, lungs filling with air, I join in because where they are in that moment is the most glorious place in the world. Grandma Baby hugs herself giggling hysterically, Aunt Clara too. And united, rocking back and forth, clapping each other’s palms, we tumble to the ground. So that’s where our laughter comes from – Nana Gyata su!
I grin and though his voice remains the same, his face becomes that of a lion again. And it is as a lion that he chooses to enlighten me further.
‘You’ve seen it, haven’t you, Sheba? Your dream-snake, a being nobody can see but you.’
‘Yes,’ I admit as my grandmother looks on.
‘It’s appeared to you for a reason,’ he continues. ‘It’s what we’ve hidden in our family; the darkness we’ve tried to shield you from. If you’re able to befriend it and talk to it, not only will your gifts of sight and touch flourish, but you’ll also have the courage to do what I asked just now: face danger with intelligence; confront lies with truth. But first, you must talk to it.’
Talk to a snake? Disbelief slinks into my bones. ‘I am not as courageous as you…’ I murmur.
‘And yet you’ve taken on your mother!’ The lion’s paw turns into a hand, which Nana Gyata su places over mine. ‘Listen, child,’ he says. ‘Next time you see it, do this.’
He leaps to his feet holding aloft what, at first, I think is a heavy blue rope. As it writhes between his hands and then coils around his neck, I realise that what I’m looking at is a cobalt-coloured snake, a reptile with eyes sharp and radiant as sapphires.
Nana Gyata su towers above us, his creature a necklace that unravels, gliding down the length of his arm. He lifts it again, brandishing it like a warrior would a living, magical sword. Then, in a voice loud as thunder before a storm, he says: ‘In the same way that a snake sheds its skin, once in a generation a member of our lineage can take on another form and become much more than what we are in flesh. If you choose to, Sheba, you can safeguard our tradition of being a sanctuary for runaways and outcasts, a place where traders in human flesh are unwelcome. Great-grandchild of mine, you can become a champion of our family and village.’
‘A champion?’ I repeat.
‘You have it in you,’ he assures me, sensing my uncertainty. ‘But let me warn you child, once you embrace the snake you’ve seen, there’ll be no turning back. Once you acknowledge its power and learn how to work with it, you’ll see mysteries and beings beyond the scope of human eyes.’
A streak of lightning illuminates Nana Gyata su’s body and straightaway the scent of earth after rain floods my nostrils. He smells of home, our village, our river. ‘Do you have the courage to fulfil your destiny, child?’
I can’t answer him because as soon as he says those words, he vanishes.
