“Black Boys Bloom Thorns First: Volume 4, Chapter 53″
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"It's our time, time today The right time is here to stay Stay in my life, my life always Yellow is the color of sun rays
I hide myself, from no-one I know the time will surely come when You'll be in my life, my life always Yellow is the color of sun rays"
Soul II Soul – "Keep on Movin"
Erik arrived in front of a private residence surrounded by tall shrubbery and intricately woven neon green bamboo plants that acted as natural fencing around a two-story home made of ivory mud, red timber, and pebble beige bricks. The architecture had sustainability in mind and despite the simple building materials, the home was striking, with curved roofs and a flourishing walking garden in the front yard.
Elder Zinzi waited for him at the front half-moon door entrance holding a squirming baby.
"This is my very first grandchild. Her name is Inam. She is my oldest son Gcobisa's daughter," Zinzi said with pride.
Erik peered down into the baby's face. Inam was chunky and cute and reminded him of Sydette when she was little. Zinzi handed the baby over to a nanny.
"My daughter-in-law is visiting for the weekend. She went shopping with my youngest daughter and will return tonight. Come inside. You look well, Prince N'Jadaka. There is a glow in your face," Zinzi said.
Erik stayed by her side as she gave a brief tour of the interior. They stuffed the home with palm plants and live vines that decorated the walls.
"I love nature, so I have to have it inside, too," she said.
"It's nice. Very inviting."
"Here, sit. There now. I have some tea and snacks for us here. Honey or sugar?"
Zinzi pointed to bowls near the tea cups. He lifted the honey and spooned some into his cup, and she poured red tea for him over it. They drank some, and he nibbled on two wafer cookies.
"Tomorrow will be a heavy day for you," Zinzi said.
Erik nodded and put down his cup.
"You chose an area to your liking?" she asked.
"I did. Near the water. After the service, we'll take them to Black Creek and then have the sunset dinner."
"That is a lot to handle emotionally. I am so happy that you have your family here with you. I have learned so much about you through them!"
"We've enjoyed your stories, too… about my father," Erik said.
Zinzi patted his hand.
"Your father was truly a character. I have never met another man like him in my life. He could be a handful, but I loved him. We all did."
She squeezed his wrist.
"I am very proud to see that you and King T'Challa have become friends. N'Jobu would have wanted that more than anything," Zinzi said.
Folding her hands on her lap, Zinzi studied his eyes.
"You will face a lot of opposition in the future. Despite the dropping of lawsuits and the settling of heirs to the throne, there are still Wakandans out here that do not want this change. Some still do not see you or your children as real Wakandans."
"I know."
"There are other factions besides the Phuri fighting against you. The anti-monarchy movement has been an issue for several years, and despite all the wonders you see here, there are parts of Wakanda that are backward and regressive. Birnin Bashenga is very patriarchal and misogynistic."
Erik regarded her with wide eyes.
"We like to think of ourselves as egalitarian, but there are men in this country who do not even like Elder Efetobo or me on the council, and they hate the Dora Milaje."
"Wow."
"The ugly side of the culture. Funny, the Phuri want the matriarchal society back, and a core group of Bashenga dwellers want men in control of everything," Zinzi said, picking up her teacup.
She sipped and broke off a piece of cookie to eat.
"The class divide is grower wider too. This is why I wanted to talk to you privately in my home, away from the others. The Mining and Merchant Tribes are the wealthiest people in Wakanda, and they like to let people know about it. As an outsider coming in, I think it is important that you know the truth about your people. Many still do not want to help anyone on the outside and prefer isolation and keeping our resources for ourselves. We can be petty, vengeful, and ruthless, even in what you may think is a utopia compared to where you come from."
"There are no utopias on earth. My father told me we strive for better and always fall short with poor leadership," Erik said.
"I knew your mother had transformed N'Jobu when he came back without the haughty arrogance he grew up with. I knew him as a young teenager, so I was very aware of who he truly was as a man. Califia humbled him. But he was only one man, and you may have to humble a nation to force them into this new age you propose we enter."
"You are at the top of the aristocracy, Zinzi. Aren't you afraid of what I'll do?"
"You are N'Jobu's son. Why should I fear the son of a man with the integrity and determination I admired? N'Jobu was a good man. I know he raised a dutiful son. Prince N'Jadaka, I will stand on this road with you. Becoming king is the beginning of your journey in Wakanda."
"Thank you for mentoring me," he said.
"Will you stay for dinner? I would like for you to have a meal with my family. It is good to be away from the palace sometimes. T'Challa has eaten here when he needed to get away. Kings need breaks from protocol."
"I will stay."
"Excellent! I invited Griot Shange to join us. I thought it would be nice for you to hear him talk about N'Jobu and also what you can expect for the ceremony tomorrow. The Udakus gave you a brief explanation, but it may help ease your mind to know exactly what will happen. Is that alright?"
"That is very helpful, thank you."
An ally.
No, an accomplice. That is how Zinzi presented herself to him. He still needed a private dinner with M'Baku and Ayomide. There was so much to do.
Dinner was a spirited affair with Zinzi's husband Gcuma, and two of their children, daughter-in-law, and Griot Shange. The griot was loquacious with a gentle sense of humor and Erik felt more comfortable knowing the inside scoop of what would happen the next day, as Zinzi promised. The food was simple. Black-eyed peas with a spicy chicken stew and a spongy tan flatbread with black sesame seeds that they used to hand scoop seasoned yellow potatoes and onions mixed with tomatoes. He ate his fill and more until he licked his fingers and loosened the string belt on his pants.
They all took a walk around the backyard that had an extensive flower and vegetable garden, and Zinzi lovingly pointed out her favorite plants and herbs.
"Your Godsister Marisol will visit me up at the temple after the mourning period," Shange said. "I hope she will stay longer in Wakanda. I am curious to know more about Candomble and her way of worship."
Erik walked next to Shange and the older man's long purple robes dragged along the lush, wild grass.
"I hope she will stay longer, too. Most of my family has to go back to their homes and work soon."
Erik and Shange moved further away from Zinzi and her family, and he caught on that they did it on purpose.
"Prince N'Jadaka. Our nation is in transition, just as you are. Before you take the throne, come to the temple on a sabbatical. Elder Zinzi asked me to speak to you about this because your path to the throne has been so unusual and she wants you prepared and protected by the God of your father, too."
"What would I do there?" Erik asked with genuine curiosity.
"You would partake of a silent meditation where we would get your spiritual health in tune with your ancestral deity. Your diet would consist of raw foods and daily prayer from the priests and priestesses attuned to what you need."
"How long would I need to stay?"
"A month at most. It is an important decision and you would be wise to take careful consideration. The Temple of Bast is a holy place and the Elder God of us all must spend time with you, my child."
Shange slipped his hand into the pocket of his robe and pulled out a leather pouch the size of his hand. Erik took it and opened it. A small, thin obsidian pipe carved with the effigy of Bast's panther head on the bowl end was packed with dark brown tobacco and herbs.
"When you are ready to make your decision, smoke this slowly and meditate on your goals. You will know what to do. It is important that you tell no one that you have this. This plant is a derivative of the heart-shaped herb and only used by the holy ones in the temple."
"This is illegal?" Erik asked.
"Our order forbids non-priests from consuming it because we have not trained them to commune with the Gods. We use it to induce a deeper trance-like state. However, Marisol told me you have been ridden… that is how she put it. You have had intimate contact with a higher being, so I have brought this on a technicality."
Shange grinned.
Erik put the pipe back inside the pouch and slipped it into the deep pocket of his own robe.
"Farewell, Prince N'Jadaka. It will be an honor to tell your father's story tomorrow," Shange said.
The griot priest bowed and left Erik's side.
"We enjoyed your company," Zinzi said, taking Shange's place.
"Thank you for the dinner. I should go, get rested," he said.
He reached out and hugged Zinzi, startling her with the overt display of affection. Erik departed in high spirits and rode the Scorpion Fighter with his gaze on the city below as the twinkling of street lights lit up the countryside and welcomed him back into the heart of Birnin Zana.
Strolling through halls and riding escalators to an upper floor, he walked into the Sun Room, where his parents awaited their transfer to the memorial service inside a revered Temple of Sekmet in downtown Zana. It was the largest communal building for ritual services, and the entire nation would watch his family bid farewell to a lost son.
The sarcophagus sat bathed in soft blue lighting and it made the backdrop of city lights look like twinkling stars. He touched the container, then patted his pocket that contained the pouch. Erik thought of smoking the pipe, but it didn't feel like the right moment. He spent quiet time with his parents and rubbed his fingers across their images carved into the sarcophagus. His kimoyo vibrated with a message from Shuri. She worked in the lab all afternoon and was about to leave, but not before sending him an image from the SP-1 as it traveled in another dimension of space. There was a message that read, "The universe is filled with wonder and beauty, cousin!"
Erik tapped the attachment and flicked the image above the sarcophagus.
A planet with opal coloring surrounded by a vast ring made of dust particles and gases with luminous magenta, yellow, and orange swirling colors invited comparisons to Saturn if that planet's rings were tipped to its side diagonally. Wonder and beauty indeed, surrounded by so many other stars.
He bent down and kissed the sarcophagus, wishing his parents could see that he had made it to his father's homeland.
Erik tied his locs back with a white head wrap into a bun at the nape of his neck. The softest ecru long-sleeved gold embroidered Wakandan top covered his loose white agbada pants. He placed gold and silver rings on his fingers, then adorned his ears with diamond studs. Meeting the rest of the immediate family in the grand hall, they were smudged down with incense and gathered together to follow the priests behind the sarcophagus out of the palace.
Small media drones buzzed in the distance so that the nation could witness the funeral from beginning to end. All the women and girls in his family wore white scarves covering their hair and parts of their faces. Ramonda and Umama wore their pearl white ischolos. T'Challa and Riki also had their hair covered like Erik's.
He clasped Riki and Joba's hands as Sydette walked in front of him behind Umama, Baba Z, and Dante. Griot Shange met them at the top of the steps that led down to the exit off of the palace grounds. The family would walk the streets to the Temple of Sekmet. Erik was fully aware of the media scrutiny of his entire family. Before the family breakfast, he and his kin watched a tribute to N'Jobu on a morning news show out of Birnin S'Yan that showed clips of N'Jobu in his youth and a short segment of his father singing to T'Challa's mother. He recognized the song "Lullaby Little One" pouring out of his father's lips with so much soul and love. There was also a quick clip about his mother and her political activism and her untimely death in Brazil. It was strange to see his mother spoken about from outside perspectives. Califia was always Mom and the woman who cooked for him, braided his hair, and fought with him to make him a better warrior. Seeing her face projected out to the Wakandan citizens, and hearing her story told in a unique way made her seem so much larger than he himself could even imagine. His heart swelled with pride as Riki and Joba stared at their grandparents on TV. The children saw how much they both favored them. His son kept touching his face and smiling because he had the same hair and freckles as his departed grandmother. Joba touched the image of N'Jobu as his father spoke at a charity event and they all watched her grin as she saw she had his rich skin color and intelligent eyes. Sydette kept looking up at him, and Erik touched her braided hair and said, "Those are your grandparents, too." A sense of relief came over her face and she stared at Califia and N'Jobu, embracing them as her very own.
He watched Sydette study the tasteful tribute and made a mental note to talk to Yani about the girl's status under his rule. Erik wanted to make some changes, but it would have to wait until after they were in a better place.
When they reached the open street, the entire Dora Milaje squad flanked them. The Udaku extended family members followed behind them as thousands of citizens lined up the streets to pay their respects and observe the family procession. Drummers and dancers took up the rear, and when Erik glanced behind T'Challa, goosebumps rolled up his arms. The music and movement reminded him so much of a New Orleans Second Line or the Jouvert celebrations in St. Thomas. Despite the sad occasion, there was joy in the air, and he shook his hips and bobbed his head. His children joined in the expression of letting the good times still roll, even in death. Some citizens held umbrellas and waved handkerchiefs at him as they passed, and the crowd's numbers swelled as they drew closer to the temple.
In front of the sarcophagus, Griot Shange sang to the people, stopping the procession to sing about a particular exploit of the Udaku heritage. A few times Erik heard his mother's name, but the song often became drowned out by the ululations flowing all around them. The voices wailing, singing, shouting, and shrieking for the family compelled Erik to move to the front of the procession as they reached the steps of the temple. Griot Shange gazed at Erik, wondering what he was doing. However, it didn't matter what the elder thought because the drums had Erik caught up and spirit moved in his chest and he swayed before the sarcophagus, dancing for his parents. Even without berimbaus present, he heard them in his head, their plucky rhythm blending in with the Wakandan drums as he flipped around and showed the Wakandans what his mother was to him. Over the cacophony of powerful drumming, Erik heard Marisol and Soliel singing about Oya Iansã to him, reminding him of the energy his mother brought to the world, and he dug in deep and showed out for her, moving his arms and legs in tandem to show the crowd her fighting style. He did a handstand and moved his legs so slow and precise that he was sure his mother had entered his body.
Erik dropped to one knee and wept before the sarcophagus, wanting so much for his parents to see the man he had become. He lowered his eyes and let his tears drop onto the ground. Umama came to his side and rubbed his back.
"Stand, N'Jadaka. It is time to go inside," Umama said.
He shook his head but did as she asked, his face contorted in grief. Yani came forward and grasped his hand in hers.
"We have to go in," Yani said, her big gentle eyes welling with tears.
Erik dropped his chin on the top of her head and she hugged him, her softness placating his pain enough so that he could climb the steps behind his parents being carried in by the Dora Milaje. Yani stayed by his side and sat next to him inside the extraordinary Temple of Sekmet. Walking inside, he expected a regular enclosed building, but the place they were holding the ceremony was like the garden of Eden mixed with futuristic-looking pillars and amphitheater-styled seating with high-domed sunroofs and magnificent black trees so tall that they were part of the architecture holding up the roof canopy. It was one of the earliest temples built in Wakanda and still had the traditional looks that the Jabari revered in their mountain homes.
Yani wiped his eyes with her fingers and kissed his cheek, calming him down with her kindness. All of his children sat with Umama, Dante, and Baba Z. Disa sat behind him with Marisol, and she comforted him by squeezing his shoulder. T'Challa sat to his left and Erik gazed at his cousin who could barely hold it together himself. The temple quickly filled with mourners, and the service was spoken entirely in Wakandan. Erik tuned out most of it, focusing on the feel of Yani's hand cradling his and her head resting on his shoulder. He was grateful it didn't take long, less than an hour of prayer, music, and words of comfort from a priest and priestess. Thankfully, he didn't have to speak in public. They had done all of their personal reflections in private in the palace. The music soothed Erik, and there were several singers who touched his heart with their voices. As the ceremony came to a close, Yani scooted away from him and moved next to his grandparents and the children. Disa moved from the back seat and placed herself next to Yani as the family shuffled around. Erik expected Baba Z to address the audience next.
"What's going on?" Erik asked T'Challa.
Baba Z touched Sydette's headscarf and whispered something in her ear. He stood up and held Sydette's hand, walking her to the center of the stage where the floating podium was lowered and adjusted for her. Baba Z stood to the side, and Sydette took a deep breath.
"I guess Baba Z will not give the closing words by himself," T'Challa said with a grin.
Erik glanced at Yani, and she helped Riki climb onto her lap. Disa had Joba snuggled in her arms. Baba Z tapped a clear screen for Sydette and she read a Wakandan prayer with him. Her enunciation was flawless. Baba Z clapped his hands for her when they finished and tapped the clear screen for her again. Sydette looked out at the audience.
"Thank you to everyone for showing my family so much support in our time of sadness…"
Sydette's voice was clear as a bell as she spoke in English.
"Today is a day to celebrate mi Baba's parents. He has missed them for a long time and I want him to know that I am sorry that he is so sad. My Mama helped me pick out a poem to read to him…"
Erik glanced over at Yani. She had her eyes on Sydette. He turned his head back on his eldest child, and she folded her hands and spoke to him. Large monitors around the room translated the words she read into Wakandan, and the silent audience read along to Sydette's pure voice.
"After they've fed off of your memories Erased dreams from your eyes Broken the seams of sanity And glued what's left together with lies, After the choices and voices have left you alone And silence grows solid Adhering like flesh to your bones
They've always known your spirit's home Lay in your gentle sway To light and substance But jaded mirrors and false prophets have a way Of removing you from yourself You who lives with seven names You who walks with seven faces None can eliminate your pain
Tell your story Let it nourish you, Sustain you And claim you Tell your story Let it feed you, Heal you And release you Tell your story Let it twist and remix your shattered heart Tell your story Until your past stops tearing your present apart."
She only stumbled over a few words as she tried to pace herself, most of it she spoke from memory, and when she finished, his Sweet Pea gazed at him with pride in her eyes. Erik stood up and held out his arms for her, and she ran to him. He lifted her up as thunderous applause showered over them.
"You picked that for me?" he asked, kissing her cheeks and tucking her headscarf more securely around her neck.
"I did," she said.
"That was amazing, Sweet Pea. Thank you, baby girl."
Okoye gave a shout that echoed throughout the amphitheater. She tapped her spear on the floor and six Dora Milaje guards guided the sarcophagus out of the temple. Everyone present stood up, and Erik put Sydette back on her feet. Griot Shange sang the departure song and followed behind the Doras. T'Challa lowered his head and wiped his eyes. They stepped out into the walkway together and paused.
"It still does not seem real," T'Challa said, turning toward Erik.
Erik nodded, then hugged T'Challa. His cousin dropped his head against his neck, and their embrace was long and warm. Stepping back, Erik looked into his eyes.
"You good?" Erik asked.
T'Challa nodded. Erik took Sydette's hand and led the family outside to where a half cruiser awaited them. They loaded the sarcophagus and the entire Udaku clan and diaspora extended family boarded the aircraft amid the cheers and handclaps of the mourners gathered to see them off. Thousands upon thousands wanted to see N'Jobu and Califia fly to Black Creek.
Inside the half cruiser, the family sat in seats facing windows to watch the thick crowds choking the streets below waving up to them as they passed over structures. It looked like all of Wakanda came outside to see them off to the final resting place.
In no time at all, they landed in a spectacular and peaceful part of Black Creek and Erik puffed up his chest feeling good about putting his parents there. A mixture of green, aquamarine, and azure water beckoned the family to swim, but they followed a private path to an area marked off with a wooden bridge that took them to an enclosure with small waterfalls replenishing the warm waters.
"Pretty!" Joba said, swinging Erik's hand with hers.
Riki held onto Erik's other hand and they all faced the sarcophagus as the Doras planted it down on the ground where it would stay for an eternity. It would not be buried and eventually, emerald vines would grow across it, blending it into the background, but that was what he wanted.
"This is perfect, perfect," Umama wept as she held Baba Z's arm.
Dante regarded the creek with loving eyes, finding the place Erik chose beyond acceptable. The sun headed toward a position that would soon have it sink below the mountains. There would be a lavish sunset dinner at Yani's villa. She offered her home to entertain the family, and Erik looked forward to being out in the open air and having the opportunity to finally see where she lived in person.
He hugged family members and watched them trod across the wooden bridge again to have the half cruiser fly them all to Yani's. Erik stayed behind, wanting to be alone with his parents. Noxolo was nearby with the Scorpion Fighter and he'd ride with her to the dinner. The half cruiser floated up, and its wide body shaded him as it passed overhead. He thought of the poem Sydette dedicated to him and there wasn't a prouder father on earth than him. She was meant to be his daughter, and each day that passed in Wakanda solidified that fact for him. Erik couldn't get over how confident she looked walking to that podium with Baba Z and speaking to the world without a nervous bone in her body, speaking for the entire Udaku clan with her great-grandfather next to her. He touched his chest as if he could feel the love for her sitting open on his body.
Moving his fingers around, he felt the leather pouch that Griot Shange gave him. He had tied it on himself like a medicine bundle and tucked it inside his shirt. Pulling it out, he removed the pipe and lighter inside.
"No better time than now," he said out loud.
The beauty of Black Creek lulled him into a calm that stripped away any sad thoughts of the day. He lit up the pipe, puffed on it, and coughed when the smoke hit his lungs.
"Damn, this is like weed!"
Erik chuckled and smoked, feeling the immediate effects of the herb hitting his bloodstream. He became mellow and loose, plopping his backside on the ground and leaning up against the sarcophagus. The colors of the water below him glittered with the light of the sun passing over it. He smoked all the contents of the pipe and stuck it back in the leather pouch. Listening to the sound of birds and the light breeze rustling the vines and leaves of trees, Erik indulged in the peace of mind he had always sought.
Pulling off his shirt, he took off his head wrap and wiggled out of his pants and sandals, stripping to his white boxer briefs. He walked down a path that led to the water and dove right in. The heat of the water was perfect as the underground thermal vents made him feel like he was in the warmth of a womb. He floated on his back for a moment before going to the shallower end to wash his body with the water. N'Jobu always said the waters of Black Creek cleansed the spirit and ushered in a new birth. The feeling of a new life had him thinking that a sabbatical was truly needed. He was living a new life. Cupping his hands with water, he poured it over his locs and wiped away the past all over his chest, back, and arms. The herb from the pipe had him floaty, and he needed to leave for Yani's place or else the dinner would start late.
"Prince N'Jadaka, are you there?" Noxolo's voice and image popped up on his kimoyo.
"I'll call you when I'm ready to leave," he said.
He tapped his kimoyo and waded around in the water, enjoying the scenery and cascading warmth. Erik took his time climbing out of the creek's deep end by pulling himself up by some hanging vines. Feeling woozy, he collected his bearings, but the herbs he smoked slowed him down, and for a moment, he thought he would fall back down into the water. Spinning on the vine, he closed his eyes to keep from becoming dizzy, but a hand reached down to help pull him up to the soft, fragrant grass.
"Didn't I tell you he would grow bigger than you?" A woman said.
The playful voice came from a short distance away. It forced a heaviness on Erik's head, weighing it down so much that he could barely lift his gaze.
"Hello, my son." A man said.
Erik gasped and squeezed his eyes shut as his father pulled him up to the top of the overlook.
"Oh, JaJa… look at my baby, Jobu."
N'Jobu lifted Erik's chin and his mother joined his side, her glorious fiery hair worn in her favorite sunburst style.
Erik moaned and his body went limp, but his father held him up as his mother ran her fingers over his locs and then stroked his face.
"Is this real?" Erik said.
"Yes, it's very real, JaJa," N'Jobu said.
They were warm flesh and blood, clothed in white robes like him. Their bodies radiated so much loving energy that they shifted the colors of the creek and foliage around them to a much brighter hue. They weren't on the ancestral plane, but Griot Shange's herb allowed him passage to a spiritual realm.
"My baby boy is so big. Look at him, Jobu. So strong and healthy."
"I see him, my love."
Erik burst into tears and his parents kissed and hugged him.
"Mom, Baba—"
"It's alright, don't worry. We will always be here. We have always been with you… always," Califia said.
His father's shiny eyes and bright white teeth were so much different from when Erik met him stuck inside their old apartment in Oakland. He had been a bitter son nearly four years ago when he snatched the throne. His anger forced an unhappy reunion, but this time, Erik would not dismiss his father's words to him. N'Jobu had Califa with him and knowing they were truly together in the afterlife, Erik let go of the last vestiges of fear and doubt about his life.
Erik clutched onto their arms, fearful of them vanishing quickly, but his father held him tight, and he knew everything was finally going to be alright in his world and the next. His mother's kisses all over his face assured him of that. He couldn't get over how young and vibrant they still looked. Words could barely get out of his mouth as the shock of having them once more overwhelmed him.
The sun warmed his back, and the creek gurgled a soft water song below them. Their first few minutes together were simply hugs and kisses and loving eyes connecting once more. Bast saw fit to give him time with his parents, and he was going to soak up their love until they went away.
Chapter 54 HERE.
A.N.
The poem Sydette reads to Erik is called "Tell Your Story" by South African Poet Lebogang Mashile.
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