Zuri’s eyes flew open, and her head jerked from left to right. As the haze clouding her sight dissipated, the outline of her Baba’s face came into clear view. She attempted to rise, but the weight pressing against her shoulders kept Zuri grounded to the soft surface beneath her body.
“What happened to my daughter?” Godfrey asked, looming over Zuri.
“Noooooo,” she cried writhing, kicking her legs.
“Look at me. Zuri,” Mama Winnie said in a soothing tone, applying more pressure to her shoulders. “Follow the calming sound of my voice and turn your head to the right.”
Zuri’s chest expanded and caved at a rapid rate. Once she stopped thrashing, her eyes were lasered on the beige stucco ceiling and crystal sphere raindrop chandelier that she had admired as an adolescent. She was in the guest bedroom on the bottom level of the family home; one of the rooms that were always off-limits. Things must have gone awry if she were placed in that bed.
A breeze whisked through the coveted space, sweeping whispers of hair across Zuri’s cheek.
She lifted trembling fingertips to her head and felt the moisture surrounding her hairline. Finally, turning her head to the right, she asked Mama Winnie, “What happened to my head tie?”
“It fell off when you blacked out in the garden,” she responded, stroking Zuri’s face with a damp cloth. “Do you remember?”
Zuri shook her head in protest, but she instantly recalled the last thing Mama Winnie told her, making her insides rumble. She winced in disgust.
“What is wrong with her?” Godfrey asked again. “Why is her face moving like that?”
His voice didn’t seem as loud to Zuri as when he spoke the first time. She was tuning him out for the sake of her sanity.
“Sometimes grief strikes people in different ways,” Mama Winnie explained, sitting on the bed at Zuri’s side. “I also think the heat may have made Zuri weak. I should stay with her tonight to make sure she is okay,” she suggested, angling her face in Godfrey’s direction.
In addition to being an educator, Mama Winnie was a traditional healer which is how she knew first-hand that Godfrey had abused Suby. After every incident, she’d end up in Mama Winnie’s care to be put back together, just so he could do it again and again.
“Do what you think is best,” Godfrey said, observing his daughter.
“I can take her back to my place since you have a house full–––”
“No. She stays here,” he shouted, and the bass in his voice bounced off the far corners of the room.
“That is fine,” Mama Winnie countered, getting to her feet. “I need to grab some items from home, and I will be back.”
Panic rose so fast it flowed into the veins pulsating in Zuri’s neck. She didn’t want to be alone with Baba. Not after what she’d just learned.
“Hurry then, so you can get back,” Godfrey ordered.
Standing in front of the window, his large frame eclipsed the natural light filtering into the room––– almost as a sign of how his will and might had overshadowed her mother’s life. He turned to Zuri and said, “Djimon will stay with you until she returns. I will go get him.”
Soon as Godfrey crossed the threshold into the hallway, Mama Winnie kissed Zuri on the temple and whispered, “This works out even better. Do not say anything while I am gone. The staff will look after you.”
Lying in the room alone for the few minutes between Mamma Winnie’s departure and Djimon’s arrival, Zuri’s emotions boiled from sadness and anger. She felt orphaned. Her Mama by death and her Baba might as well be dead after what he’d done. She would never forgive him.
Stewing in her thoughts of ways to make Baba pay for his crime, rapid footsteps getting closer by the second, jolted her heart rhythm. She quickly rolled onto her side, closed her eyes, and pretended to be asleep.
“Zuri,” Djimon called out, tapping on the door as he entered. His spicy scent greeted her nostrils, and it wasn’t a pleasant thing.
Her body tensed at the soft click of the door being closed. Zuri was familiar with the sound of that door easing closed, as she had snuck in the guest bedroom many times as a child before being caught. The spanking she received left a welt on her backside, a constant reminder of the damage Baba’s bare hands could cause. She never entered that room again, until now.
“Zuri.” Djimon’s fragrance became even stronger as he sat alongside the bed, placing a hand on her hip.
She almost came undone by Djimon’s touch. The fact that it was tender repulsed her even more. It took every ounce of willpower not to flinch. He had no right to put his hands on her body.
“I will be a good husband to you. Stop fighting what is destined to be from our ancestors.” He sighed. “You already belong to me.”
Djimon’s hands traveled from the hip, then down her thigh to the hem of her dress. Zuri clamped down on her tongue to keep her breathing steady, but if he inched one finger underneath her clothing, she would strike him. She had never been touched sexually by a man, and her first experience would not be like this.
“You are so beautiful,” Djimon whispered, caressing her thigh. A guttural moan rattled in his throat.
Zuri couldn’t take much more of this unwanted attention. She shifted but never opened her eyes. He drew his hands away.
Thank you, Allah.
“Hey. Are you awake?” he asked. Zuri felt the warmth from his body as Djimon inched even closer. His rear end propped against her stomach.
Djimon must have leaned over because now, his minty breath swept across her lips and chin.
A couple knocks, followed by the door creaking open, Mama Winnie asked, “How is she?”
He shot up. His footsteps became a little distant. Zuri parted her lips slightly and released a long pent-up breath without making a sound.
“Hopefully, better. She has been sleeping the whole time,” Djimon replied, and Zuri swore she heard sincerity in his tone. “I hope the rest helps. I will be with the family if you need anything.”
“Thank you,” Mama Winnie responded, closing the door behind him.
The click of the knob locking sprung Zuri from her make-believe slumber, gasping. “I am glad you came back when you did,” she whispered, sitting upright. “He was about to kiss me.”
“Did he touch you anywhere?” Mama Winnie inquired, her dark brown eyes narrowing to slits. She claimed the spot next to Zuri that Djimon vacated.
Inhaling through her nostrils and exhaling through pursed lips, Zuri said, “I am just glad you returned when you did and not a minute later.” She reached over and embraced Mama Winnie with all her might.
Time stood still. In her arms was the safest Zuri had felt since she’d been back home.
Rubbing Zuri’s back and putting a little space between them, Mama Winnie asked, “What did you bring with you? Where is your luggage?”
“The clothes on my back and a small carry-on duffel bag are all I have. Just enough room to carry a change of panties, toiletries, passport, boarding pass, money, and keys.”
“You traveled light.”
“I do not plan on staying longer than intended,” Zuri shot back. “And now that I know what happened to Mama, I wish I could leave right now.”
“Soon enough,” Mama Winnie replied, pulling a phone from her purse and tapping the screen in rapid-fire with her thumbs.
After five minutes, Mama Winnie responded to a light tap on the door. Zuri observed the woman move across the floor. Unlocking the door, Mama Winnie grabbed a midnight blue duffel bag from the longtime housemaid, Mama Olivia then closed the door behind her.
“How did she know to bring my bag?” Zuri inquired, pushing her palms into the plush mattress.
“Because she is helping us,” Mama Winnie said, handing Zuri her duffel bag. “You have allies all around you. We made a promise to Suby to continue her life mission of protecting you.”
Zuri’s heart was filled with gratitude and appreciation for the village of women who banded together.
Mama Winnie dumped the contents of the bag onto the bed, then pulled out a switchblade and cut the lining along the seams.
“What are you doing?” Zuri stared in disbelief.
Mama Winnie didn’t respond right away. Once she finished slicing the seams on both sides with a skilled hand, she stood, hiked up her dress, and pulled a beautiful gold pistol from a holster strapped around her thigh.
Zuri jumped to her feet. A sudden pain shot through her right temple, and her mouth gaped as Mama Winnie placed the firearm in Zuri’s hands.
“Close your mouth, chile. You will catch a fly,” she teased, pinching Zuri’s chin. Mama Winnie held one hand under Zuri’s and slid the other one over the weapon. “Listen to me. This is made of fourteen-karat gold. It is one-hundred percent undetectable by airport security. I am padding and sewing the gun into the seam of your bag, distributing equal weight on both sides. You may get randomly pulled out of line by customs, and if they search your bag, I want them to come up empty.” She paused for a moment. “Are you following me?”
“Yesss,” Zuri said so slow that it seemed as if merely speaking caused her excruciating pain.
“Because this is not made of steel, the gun is only good for one shot,” Mama Winnie gazed into her eyes and lifted a brow. “One shot. So, make it count if you ever have to use it.”
* * *
A tap on Zuri’s shoulder interrupted an already unrestful slumber.
“It is time,” Mama Winnie whispered, dressed in all black, appearing like a thief in the night. She handed Zuri a pair of pants and a long black caftan with a hood. “Put these on and hurry.”
Zuri hopped into the clothes, keeping a watchful eye on Mama Winnie standing guard at the door. Zuri searched the floor for her heels. They were the only shoes she had brought.
“I am ready,” Zuri whispered, scanning the room. “But I cannot find my shoes.”
Mama Winnie whisked over, grabbing Zuri by the wrist, and guiding her toward the moonlight peering through the glass. “They are in your bag. Tuck the caftan in your pants,” she instructed, slowly lifting the window.
“Where is the bag?” she asked, stuffing the flowy material in the waistband.
Mama Winnie placed a hard glare on Zuri, and she knew to be quiet. “Kassanna, Bupe, Lillian, Agness, and Eunice are waiting for you on the ground. You climb out first, then I will follow.”
Once both women made it to the ground, Mama Winnie untucked Zuri’s caftan. She retrieved Zuri’s duffel bag from Agness and placed it on Zuri’s shoulder. She had created a make-shift strap with Velcro, wrapped it underneath Zuri’s breastbone, and fastened the straps on the opposite side.
“This way, if we have to make a run for it, your passport and boarding pass will be with you,” Mama Winnie explained as the women gathered around. “We have to walk a mile and a half to clear the property grounds and another half a mile to reach transport. Anything closer than that, Godfrey and his security will notice.”
Mama Winnie put her focus on Zuri. “High heels leave distinct markings in the dirt, so we are all traveling in flip-flops. You can switch your footwear when we reach our destination.”
Zuri nodded, understanding the meticulous planning of the situation. She flipped the hood over her head.
“Ladies, you know what we have to do if we encounter any trouble along the way,” Mama Winnie said in a low tone.
Eunice, a middle-aged, athletically built sprinter, pulled a machete from the invisible sheath under her caftan. “Armed and ready.”
Kassanna, a silver-haired woman with the energy of a twenty-year-old was another healer of the tribe. She opened a kangaroo-styled pouch on the front of her caftan. “I have twelve syringes filled with a fast-acting agent that will cause delirium, then knock a person out for up to three hours.”
Each woman flashed her weaponry. These women of the tribe were risking their lives to protect Suby’s daughter. They, because of her mother, believed in women’s rights and were willing to sacrifice for the next generation.
Tsetse flies, buzzing cicadas, chirping crickets, and an occasional cool breeze accompanied them on their tense-filled journey. They walked in a single-file line, holding onto the caftan of the person in front of them. Fading lights from the houses helped gauge the distance traveled.
Within twenty-two minutes, they crossed the property grounds without any snags. Pausing for a quick water break, Lillian said in a trembling voice, “Lights are coming toward us.”
“Everybody down,” Mama Winnie ordered, yanking Zuri by the arm.
Zuri laid in the brush, the shrubs and small trees scratched her face. She was thankful more than ever for the long caftan that protected her body.
The jeep moved at a slow pace, stopping only feet away from them. Zuri’s heart was pounding so hard that she thought the men nearby could hear it, too.
“I am sure I saw movement out here,” a man said, his voice dark and husky; the only outstanding trait because his features were hidden in the darkness. His feet crunched as he stepped on the undergrowth.
“In the middle of nowhere,” another man replied with a questioning tone. “Probably one of the cattle got away from the herd.”
“Let’s go check it out,” the first man said, the sound of his voice getting closer by the second.”
Mama Winnie squeezed Zuri’s arm as the curious man stood in front of them. If he took one more step, he would kick Bupe in the head.
“Come on, Rashid. There is nothing out there,” he called out. “Let the next shift do a search and find mission. I am tired and I do not feel like wrestling cattle in the middle of the night.”
A strange silence filtered the air above them.
“Rashid. What are you waiting for?”
Zuri closed her eyes and prayed.
“Something peculiar is going on. I just do not know what it is,” Rashid mumbled, turning on his heels and maneuvering back to the jeep. The crunch of the brush under his feet was a welcomed sound.
The vehicle sped off, kicking up sand in its wake. The women muffled coughs, by drawing hands to their mouths as they got to their feet.
Zuri took in a sudden inhalation of air, panting.
“It is okay,” Mama Winnie reassured, grabbing Zuri’s hand and helping her stand. “We anticipate the guards patrolling the grounds. That is why we left at three-thirty, so I could time their runs,” she explained, squeezing Zuri’s arm. “We have to keep moving. By the time they circle around again, we will be long gone.”
“I thought I would have to gut that man like a kudu,” Bupe said, sliding a scalpel underneath a black wristband, then pulling her sleeve over as a camouflage. “One slice to the peroneal artery at the back of his ankle, and he was a dead man.”
Bupe was in medical school to become a cardiovascular surgeon, a once male-dominated profession in Tanzania.
“I am glad it did not come to that,” Mama Winnie commented as they trekked the final stretch of the terrain with the stealth of a lion stalking its prey.
For twelve minutes, only the sound of their feet and nature filtered their ears until Mama Winnie halted. The women came to a complete stop.
“Shhhhhh,” Mama Winnie whispered.
Zuri scanned the darkness and wondered why they had ceased movement. She couldn’t see anything––– not even a hand in front of her face.
A low-hum percolated nearby, and the smell of exhaust wafted through the cool breeze.
“Do you hear that?” Lillian asked, tugging Eunice’s caftan.
“Sounds like a car,” Zuri said, not giving anyone a chance to answer.
“Quiet,” Mama Winnie ordered, moving forward. “This way, ladies.”
“Winnie. Are you sure?” Kassanna inquired. “I thought the jeep was supposed to be on the other side of the valley.”
“No. That is a decoy to throw off the guards,” Mama Winnie countered.
“Then who is that?” Lillian asked, scooting closer to Zuri.
Mama Winnie parted her lips to answer when a series of whistles rang out. “Right on time,” she mumbled under her breath, then faced the women. “Listen closely. That is our ride. Be prepared to fight just in case our driver was hijacked by the guards. We will not know that until we get close enough to board the back of the Humvee,” Mama Winnie said as the women grasped their weapons. “The mission is to get Zuri to the airport by any means necessary. If we have to fight off the men, make sure one of you take over the Humvee and drive Zuri directly there. We will deal with the fall out later.”
“Yes, Mama Winnie,” the women replied in a low tone.
“One more thing,” Mama Winnie said, grabbing Zuri’s hand. “Put this away. Do not open the note until you get on your flight back to America,” she instructed, shoving a small piece of paper into the palm of Zuri’s hand, then bending her fingers closed.