Fearless

Keita Bojang, great Mansakeh of the Kingdom of Mali, sat before Jubeh, the Royal Diviner. The old, blind man had been summoned to the palace to consult the oracle on the recent birth of his son, Anjai...and on the passing of Anjai’s mother, Maala.

Anjai stared into Jubeh’s sightless eyes as the old man placed the boy’s tiny, right foot into a bowl of warm sand. Anjai cooed and giggled as the sand tickled his plump, little toes.

Jubeh grabbed a fistful of the sand and tossed it onto the floor. He rocked back and forth as the Alifaa Faloloo – the ancestors – spoke to him. Great King Keita cradled Anjai in his arms and awaited instructions from the spirits.

Jubeh’s rocking stopped. His head fell against his shoulder and his chest heaved as he took a deep breath.

“Anjai is to exceed, in skill and wits, all the children of this great nation, past and present.”

“However,” Jubeh sighed. “He will bring you much heartache, as he will leave this world long before you.”

“He will be killed by an animal,” Jubeh replied. “Either an ape, a crocodile, or a dog. The ancestors will not say, specifically, which.”

“What can we do to prevent this?” Mansakeh Keita asked, wiping tears from his cheeks.

“Nothing, Great One,” Jubeh replied. “The ancestors have decreed it so.”

“I am Keita Bojang,” the Mansakeh spat. “Mansakeh of Mali, the greatest nation in all Ki-Khanga. There is nothing that I cannot do!”

“What the ancestors have revealed is a warning; nothing more,” the Mansakeh said. “I will ensure my son’s safety and he will rule Mali upon my passing.”

The great king sauntered out of his chamber and stumbled into the courtyard, where he rocked Anjai into a deep and peaceful sleep.

Anjai whirled, kicking up clouds of red dirt as he rent the air with his broadsword. He drew a figure-eight pattern in the air with the razor-sharp steel and then thrust the sword into the stiff, leather scabbard that hung from his belt.

“Thank you, father,” Anjai said, turning toward the Mansakeh. “Perhaps, one day soon, I will be blessed to use what I have learned over all these years on the battlefield, in service to the great Mansakeh Keita.”

The Mansakeh hung his head. “Son, you will leave this compound one day. Please, be patient.”

“But, I am terribly lonely, father,” Anjai sighed. “I live half a day’s ride from Timbuktu...from you; and there is not another living human soul anywhere near here.”

“You have your housekeeper and your personal guard,” Mansakeh Keita said. “And I visit as often as I can.”

“Uli and Asuru are not big on conversation, father,” Anjai said. “And this is your first visit in two moon cycles.”

“Shall I throw a celebration in your honor, then?” the Mansakeh asked. “I can bring the best drummers and dancers and the most beautiful women in all Timbuktu, including that young woman who had you so smitten at your last celebration – the daughter of the Alikaalah of Diari – what is her name...”

“No, father,” Anjai said, shaking his head. “My desires are less...complex.”

Mansakeh Keita’s brow furrowed and the corners of his mouth curled downward. “No, son; no puppies...ever!”

“Will become a dog,” the Mansakeh spat. “And a dog may be the death of you!”

Anjai’s heart raced. Sweat ran down his forehead and dripped from the tip of his nose, leaving tiny pools in the sand between his feet. “The death of me? How so?”

The Mansakeh paced back and forth, rubbing his temple with the tips of his fingers. He squeezed his eyes shut, as if to prevent from seeing the painful truth.

“When you were born, the Royal Diviner told me that you would meet your fate through an encounter with an ape, a crocodile, or a dog.”

“Then, I am willing to take that chance,” Anjai said. “If I raise it with love and kindness, would it dare harm me?”

“You have a point,” the Mansakeh said, rubbing his smooth, ebon chin. “Alright, then, I will send forth my wisest advisors to find the friendliest, most intelligent newborn puppy in all Mali!”

Anjai’s heart soared the moment he laid eyes upon the playful, stark-white Azawakh pup that the Wise Ones had chosen for him. “He is beautiful, father! I know we will become the closest of friends.

“Son, while the Wise Ones searched high and low for your pup, they heard that the Alikaalah of Diari seeks a young man to wed his daughter. The Alikaalah is a dear friend and has led Diari well on my behalf. It would please me if you married Akinah.”

“It is not that simple,” the Mansakeh replied. “The Alikaalah of Diari loves tests of strength, bravery and wits; thus, he has put forth a challenge.”

“The first to scale the wall of the Alikaalah’s palace and climb through his daughter’s window – which is on the uppermost floor – wins her hand in marriage,” the Mansakeh replied.

“Many,” the Mansakeh answered. “They all fell to their deaths. Does that frighten you, son?”

“That’s my boy,” the Mansakeh said, beaming. “The Bojang bloodline is notorious for exceptional bravery!”

“It is not bravery that makes me so assured father,” Anjai said. “It is knowing that I will die by ape, dog or crocodile...not by a fall.”

“Ha!” The Mansakeh bellowed. “Sometimes, a fox’s head serves a warrior better than a lion’s heart.”

The carriage ride to Diari was the happiest moment of Anjai’s life. He was finally free of the confines of his compound. He thrust his head out of the window of his carriage, relishing the kiss of the desert breeze upon his face. His camels raced across the network of sand roads, spurred on by the expert handling of Anjai’s bodyguard, Asuru.

After a day-and-a-half ride, Anjai arrived in the bustling town of Diari – the City of Gold – the location of the largest gold mine in all the lands of Ki-Khanga. The palace of the Alikaalah was constructed entirely of gold. Its interior and exterior walls, floors, doors and ramparts – all gold.

Anjai’s carriage was met by Idris Ul-Arbah, Chief of the Palace Guard, as it approached the palace. “How may we help you, kind sir?”

“I am Anjai, son of Mansakeh Keita Bojang,” Anjai replied. “And I have come to win the hand of the Alikaalah’s daughter.”

Idris dropped to one knee. “Welcome, Your Highness. Will you need accommodations for the night?”

“No,” Anjai replied, stepping down from his carriage. “I will scale the wall after a brief stretch.”

“As you wish,” Idris said, rising to his feet. The Chief of the Palace Guard turned and sauntered back through the palace gates.

Anjai bent forward and touched the ground with his palms, stretching the muscles in his back and legs. He held the position for a few minutes and then stood bolt upright. “I am ready, now.”

Anjai sprinted toward the eastern wall of the palace – his father’s informants had told him that Akinah’s chamber was on that side – which was dotted, from-top-to-bottom, with golden spikes, each as thick around as a man’s wrist and protruding two feet out of the wall. He exploded upward, thrusting his arms above his head. He grabbed one of the spikes with both hands and pulled himself up until his feet rested firmly on a spike beneath him. He exploded upward again and again, grabbing the spikes over his head and pulling himself ever closer to Akinah’s window.

Finally, he reached it. He swung his legs toward the open window and tumbled inside. Anjai landed with a dull thud as his buttocks struck the golden floor.

He fought off the pain and pulled himself to his feet. Sitting on a bed of plush, pastel-colored pillows was Akinah, who was even more beautiful than Anjai remembered.

“I know who you are,” Akinah giggled. “Cease with the formalities; we are to be married in less than a fortnight. Soon, I will be scolding you for passing gas in our sleeping chamber. How informal can you be?”

“More importantly, I am highly intelligent, skilled in business and spent eight years in Fez, training under the greatest wizards to ever traverse the sands of Ki-Khanga,” Akinah said.

“No,” Akinah replied. You merely speak truth. However, if you are going to shower me with compliments, please be fully accurate in your descriptions.”

Anjai laughed. For the first time since he left his compound, he looked forward to returning home, for he would return with a magnificent friend and partner to share it with.

Akinah awakened with a start. A frightening din came from the kitchen below. She recognized the noise as the snarls of an angry canine. Something had Fatinga quite vexed.

Akinah now loved the dog – and he, her – but when Anjai first told her of the ancestors’ decree on how her husband would die, she begged Anjai to kill the Azawakh. She was now happy that he refused, for the dog had proven time and again to be a loyal and protective companion to the couple.

“It is Fatinga,” Akinah whispered. “He is growling at something in the kitchen.”

Anjai sprang from the bed and grabbed a pair of cotton trousers. “I hear him!”

“If I ask you to stay here, will you oblige?” Anjai asked, as he snatched his broadsword its ivory stand.

Anjai darted down the stairs. Akinah followed closely behind him. They sprinted toward the kitchen. Fatinga stood defiantly, baring his teeth and snarling at a half dozen squat, husky figures, which lurked in the shadows.

The figures lumbered out of the shadows. They were chimpanzees, but their eyes revealed an intelligence and a brutality possessed only by man. All except one were black as pitch, with wrinkled, pink faces, twisted into harsh scowls. At the head of the apes stood one who was slightly taller than its brethren and of a sandy complexion. The sand-hued chimp raised its right arm high. Dangling from its fingers was the severed head of Anjai’s bodyguard, Asuru.

“Belong you, him does?” the sand-colored creature snickered in the native, human Ki-Khanga tongue.

“We leave, you mate come with,” the leader ape said. “She Gold King baby; we trade she with Gold King for lot gold; lot food.”

“Wokay,” the sand-hued ape said with a shrug. “We kill and take mate, then.”

The chimpanzees charged forward. Fatinga leapt toward one, sinking his fangs into the ape’s neck as he ripped at the creature’s belly with his rear paws. The ape let loose a hissing gurgle as blood erupted from its neck and its entrails spilled onto the floor.

Anjai rolled forward, delivering a powerful thrust as his momentum brought him to a kneeling position. His sword sank into the chest of a charging chimpanzee. The creature shuddered and then slid off the blade, collapsing, with a loud thud, onto its back.

Akinah waved her hands in wide circles in front of her, as if she was scrubbing the floor with her palms. A huge hole opened beneath the feet of a pair of chimpanzees that sprinted toward her. The apes plummeted into the deep hole. A moment later, the cavity closed over them, muffling their cries of terror.

The sand-colored ape and the surviving pitch-black ape spun on their heels and dived out of an open kitchen window. Their cries pierced the night calm as they scurried off into the shadows of the desert oasis.

“Is everyone alright?” Anjai asked, his eyes darting from Akinah to Fatinga.

“At least we know that it won’t be any ape that is the death of you,” Akinah said.

“They can always return,” Anjai said.

“Get some rest, you two,” Anjai said. “Tomorrow morning, we burn these foul creatures and bury Asuru.”

The day was exceptionally beautiful. Anjai was invigorated by the gentle breeze, which caressed and cooled him as he breast-stroked in the warm waters of the Sati-Baa River.

Akinah gathered moist sand from the shore in a calabash. She poured the sand onto the ground and sculpted it into little figurines. Fatinga paced back-and-forth along the shoreline as he kept a watchful eye on Anjai. The dog unleashed a high-pitched howl.

Akinah looked up from her sculptures and spotted the head of a large crocodile break the surface of the water just a few yards from her unsuspecting husband. Fatinga howled again.

“Anjai,” Akinah shouted, pointing at the massive crocodile. “Behind you!”

Anjai peered over his shoulder. He screamed in terror and began to swim furiously. The crocodile was hot on his fluttering heels.

Akinah glanced at her sand sculptures. They had fused together, forming themselves into the perfect likeness of a crocodile. The sorceress stomped the tip of the sand crocodile’s tail. A moment later, the real crocodile hissed and thrashed in agony. The water around the crocodile became a deep crimson. With a swipe of the back of her hand, Akinah knocked off a piece of the sand sculpture’s jaw. The real crocodile thrashed violently in the water as its lower jaw disjointed and then fell from the crocodile’s head. The wedge-shaped mass of flesh, bone and teeth floated up-shore as the crocodile sank beneath the surface of the water.

Anjai swam to shore. He scampered out of the water and then sprinted into his wife’s open arms. “You saved me!” He planted brisk kisses upon his wife’s forehead and cheeks. He then knelt next to Fatinga and rubbed his neck. “You did well, little brother. Thank you!” Fatinga wagged his tail.

“As long as you have Fatinga and me around, no harm will befall you,” Akinah said. “You will live to see your grandchildren grow old. We should tell your father about...”

“Someone approaches,” Anjai said, pointing toward a fast approaching mass in the distance.

A woman on camelback galloped toward them. Her leathery skin was as dark as the smooth, mahogany saddle upon which she sat.

“Your Highness,” the woman called, bringing the camel to a stop a yard from them.

“Your mother has fallen very ill,” Nura replied. “She asks for you; your father has commanded that I escort your carriage to Diari at once. I have already alerted your driver. He and your housekeeper are packing your travel bag as we speak.”

“No, my love,” Akinah said. “There is an old woman along the way who possesses a deep knowledge of healing herbs. I will hire her services, see that my mother is well-cared for and return home in less than half a fortnight.

“Fine,” Anjai said. “When you return, I would like to begin laying the foundation for those grandchildren whom I will usher into old age.”

Akinah blushed as she jogged toward their compound. “Why wait? Escort me back to the compound and let’s lay that foundation before I depart.”

Anjai awoke to the smell of fresh horned melon and yogurt with a hint of vanilla. Uli had prepared his favorite breakfast. He darted out of bed, threw on a pair of loose-fitting, linen trousers and a waist-length tunic and then darted down the stairs, not stopping until he reached the dining room.

The elderly woman bent slightly at the waist in salutation and then left Anjai to enjoy his meal.

Anjai devoured the food, gulped down two cups of water and then jogged out the door. Fatinga burst out the door behind him.

“How far shall we run, Fatinga?” Anjai asked, patting the dog’s head. “Two miles?”

After a short while, Fatinga stopped running. He stared up at the palm trees that lined the trail. A low growl rose from his gut.

From out of the trees descended a score of pitch-hued chimpanzees. The apes landed in a series of dull thuds, kicking up clouds of sand and red dirt as each hit the ground. When the dust cleared, an army of apes stood before Anjai.

“‘Member we Mkeko?” The leader of the apes asked. “We Mkeko ‘member you. You kill we Mkeko; now, Mkeko return favor!”

Anjai exploded into a full sprint, with Fatinga running close behind him. The Mkeko gave chase, some trotting across the sand and dirt, others swinging and leaping through the trees. Anjai ran on and on; out of his compound; across the oasis upon which his home was built...and into a pool of quicksand. Anjai tried to swim out of it, but the grainy liquid was too thick. Within moments, only his torso was visible above the surface. Fatinga barked at Anjai, as if to scold him for putting himself into such a dangerous predicament. Soft footsteps approached. Fatinga whirled toward the sound. The sand-colored chimpanzee was coming. Fatinga snarled viciously. The ape stopped a few yards from the dog and pointed at Anjai, who had now sunk to his chest.

“You run right where we Mkeko want, silly man. Now, we Mkeko wait for Gold-King baby come home; we Mkeko take daughter; trade for lot gold; lot food. Bye-bye, silly man.”

The sand-hued chimpanzee turned and walked back toward the army of Mkeko, which awaited him in the distance.

“Fatinga,” Anjai called. “Run back to the compound. When Uli sees you arrive without me, she will come looking.”

Fatinga did not budge. He stood his ground, growling to keep the surrounding Mkeko at bay.

Anjai sank farther. Sand rushed into the top of his tunic. “Fatinga, hurry!”

The dog refused to leave its master alone and unprotected. It fearlessly stood its ground.

As Anjai sank completely beneath the surface of the quicksand, he realized that the ancestors, indeed, spoke truth. He had met his fate through a dog. A protective, loyal and fearless one.

Fearless

By Balogun Ojetade