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. “Your technique is superb,” a familiar voice bellowed. “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…” “Akinah,” Anjai replied. “Akinah! That’s it! I can invite her.” “No, father,” Anjai said, shaking his head. “My desires are less…complex.” “What, then?” the Mansakeh asked. “I want a puppy,” Anjai answered. Mansakeh Keita’s brow furrowed and the corners of his mouth curled downward. “No, son; no puppies…ever!” “Why not?” Anjai asked. “A friendly puppy…” “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 himself 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, it is possible that a dog will not be the culprit?” Anjai asked. “It is possible,” Mansakeh Keita answered. “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. “What will you call him, son?” the Mansakeh asked. “His name is…’Fatinga’,” Anjai replied. “Fearless,” Mansakeh Keita said, with a nod. “That is a good name.” Mansakeh Keita placed a hand upon his son’s sinewy shoulder. “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.” “When will you arrange the marriage, father?” Anjai inquired. “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.” “Which is?” Anjai asked, raising an eyebrow. “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. “How high is this wall, father?” “Seventy cubits,” the Mansakeh replied. “One hundred and five feet.” “Has anyone tried such a treacherous climb?” Anjai asked. “Many,” the Mansakeh answered. “They all fell to their deaths. Does that frighten you, son?” “No, father,” Anjai replied. “Not one bit.” “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. From the short story FEARLESS, by Balogun Ojetade; from KI KHANGA: The Anthology amazon/Ki-Khanga-Anthology-Milton-Davis-ebook/dp/B00B2RNSQI/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1399305462&sr=8-1&keywords=ki+khanga
Posted on: Mon, 05 May 2014 16:07:57 +0000
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