Showing posts with label adventure. Show all posts
Showing posts with label adventure. Show all posts

Monday, September 5, 2011

Chapter 6 ~Flying Lessons

           The rain soon stopped, so we accepted Yohance and Jetta's offer to go visit their mother. Joel hesitated a moment at the top of the staircase. "Why did your tribe decide to build the Creator’s place up so high?"
          "Obadele, the Third Creator, created a gift to us of our friends, the eagles. We carved this place for him, so that he could see the birds when he was not flying with them." Yohance used his hands as he talked, making graceful, flowing gestures.
          "Uh, what do you mean that he flew with the eagles?"
          "He flew in the sky with them," Jetta said.
          "He actually flew in the air." Joel looked as skeptical as I felt.
          "Yes, yes." Yohance was quite excited, "Yes, Councilor, the history specifically and clearly explains how he flew in the air with the eagles. After all, he was a Creator and nothing was impossible for him."
          Joel and I exchanged looks, which did not escape Jetta’s notice. "You could fly if you wished to. Perhaps you would like to try?"
          "Not here." I answered for us. My brother started to protest, but I went down the stone stairs ignoring his complaints.
          Yohance took us on another meandering tour through the city streets until we entered a tunnel with steps leading downward. It led to a warren of rooms, hollowed out of the stone and lit here and there by flickering torches. We crossed a narrow bridge over a placid stream, and met up with Silkworm Grower Sela. She gave us a tour of the dark, dank rooms that had moths darting about. One landed on my hair and rested there several minutes until it flew away again.
          Sela and the other workers demonstrated how they fed the worms, and then took us to other rooms to show us the little wooden frames where silkworms wove their silken threads. She led us back upstairs, to reveal where they boiled the cocoons, so they could unravel the threads in preparation for weaving. It was so much fun because Sela explained the basics, and then let Joel and me ask many questions.
          It was with reluctance that we left so that Sela could go back to her work. Jetta took the lead as we headed for the northern gate. Joel was anxious to be out in the open, so he could try flying. She guided us through the network of streets, which still looked like a maze to me. As we hurried past endless doorways and windows, someone called out Jetta’s name. We paused as two boys came running up to us. I saw right away that they were identical twins, about seven or eight years old, and wearing short, sleeveless, blue tunics.
          "Jetta, hello,” said one. He touched Jetta’s proffered knuckles with his own. His twin stared at us shyly. "Yohance, you’re here, too. Where are you going? Will you take us?"
          Jetta and Yohance smiled at him. "These are our young and energetic cousins, Ulan and Pili. They have the distinction of being the first twins in many generations, an immense honor to their parents," Yohance explained. Ulan smiled at us, but Pili kept on staring. 
          "Boys, these are Councilors Celestine and Joel, who are the Creators that you must have heard about. I am showing them around and Yohance is writing the history of it," Jetta said with a touch of pride. The boys, to my relief, did not kneel down in homage to us. Joel extended his hand in greeting and touched the boy’s knuckles to his. I followed suit.
          "Would you like to go with us?" I asked them, seeing twin smiles light up. "Do you need to get permission?"
          Pili nodded and dashed away. As he raced back to his home, Jetta called after him, "Tell Grandmother you are going just with Yohance and me." To us, she said, "If he tells Grandmother he is going to accompany the Creators, she will come out and thank you and we will never get thru the gate." Pili came dashing back to us and halted beside his brother. He nodded at us, so we resumed our march.
          Ulan walked alongside Joel. "So, you are a Creator?" he asked. "You look like a boy. I thought you would be a tall man. Your skin is not dark, either. Is there something wrong with you, because you are so pale?" Jetta hastened to shush him.
          "It’s okay," Joel assured her. He turned his attention to Ulan. "My dad is here with us, and he’s darker, like you, but he is not a tall man. I wish you could meet my Mom. If you think I’m light, you ought to see her. Her skin is the color of the sand by the river, and her hair is smooth and not wooly. You’ve never met anyone like her before, I bet."
          I enjoyed watching the twins. After observing the boys for a while, I could tell them apart by their personalities. Ulan was outgoing and inquisitive. He kept shooting questions at Joel, asking him if he’d been to this place or that, whom he’d met, and what he’d seen. Joel kept up a string of answers. I tuned out when Ulan started describing how the eagles kill and bring their fresh meat back to their nests, and then feed it to their youngsters. Pili tagged along, right behind them, listening to every word, but not uttering a sound. Yohance wrote down occasional remarks from Joel, grinning at his nephews all the while. Jetta and I dropped back so we could talk out of earshot.
          "Can Pili talk?" I asked.
          Jetta nodded. "Oh, yes, he talks. He has an extended vocabulary, but has so much attention on him that he is shy unless he gets to know you. Ulan has an insatiable curiosity, and asks questions day and night. As you’ve observed, he is not the most tactful in his examinations."
          I smiled. "I like someone who is not afraid to say what is on their mind. Why do people pay so much attention to them? Because they are twins?"
          "Yes, many generations go by without anyone giving birth to twins. We see it as a sign of great favor bestowed upon us. Now, you and your brother are here, two Creators in one generation, which has never happened before. Your arrival is the start of great changes that we have prayed for."
          I felt rather overwhelmed, like the feeling of realizing that you are having a big test that you have not prepared for. Then I remembered Dad was with us. I also hoped that the Harun would be patient in helping us catch up on all the lost centuries of information.
          The northern gate was less elaborate than the main gate. We passed through it without ceremony to empty fields with brown soil and no plants. The dirt was muddy from the rain, and mud stuck to our feet as we walked toward a grove of trees.
          "Where are all the crops?" Joel wondered aloud.
          "This field is lying fallow for three harvests. We put nutrients in the soil, then plant again after it has rested and the soil has built up," Yohance said. 
          Joel decided that he would try flying, so we left him to it and made our way over to the trees. The shade was cool and refreshing. The trees had twisty trunks and smooth green leaves, each one the size of my hand. The twins laughed and chased each other around, as Yohance, Jetta, and I watched my brother’s hilarious efforts.
          Joel took running starts and threw himself in the air, but fell repeatedly. He did not appear to be hurt and his endeavors were tireless. He soon became quite muddy, but the dirt did not bother him. I giggled and even Jetta and Yohance laughed, though they covered their mouths each time.
          After watching for a while, Yohance could not help it. "Master Joel, you are most courageous and persistent. If I could be permitted to make a humble suggestion,” Yohance continued at Joel's nod, "maybe if you visualize yourself flying, you will fly. At least, that is what The First Creator, Obasi wrote, when he created us in the beginning. He visualized us as he tapped away at the rock and we emerged from the stone."
          My brother stopped all movement and closed his eyes. I watched him, noting what an unusual sight it was to see him so still. Then a gap appeared between his feet and the ground. My breath caught as I saw Joel rise in the air. He opened his eyes and let out a whoop, which caused him to drop a few feet until he caught himself. Putting out his arms he flew like a plane, learning at a rapid pace, and soon was looping and whirling against the bright blue sky.
          Jetta, Yohance, and I laughed and clapped, and then Joel flew down to me. "C'mon, Sistine. You gotta try this.” He tried to grab my hand and pull me up with him.
          "Let go! I want to learn by myself." I walked out to the middle of the field and tried to concentrate. I ignored the sticky earth at my feet and the clamor that my brother was making. I imagined that my feet were leaving the ground and that I was floating, just floating on the breeze like a feather.
          When I dared to open my eyes, I was hovering about ten feet up in the air. I gasped and then fell, hitting the mucky ground. Jetta ran up to me. “Councilor Celestine, are you all right?"
          I nodded and got up, not hurt at all. We brushed the mud off my dress as best we could and I tried again. After many tries, I floated, but I was shaky and uncomfortable. While my brother flew around me doing somersaults and tricks in the air, I poked along. It was just so strange, adrift with nothing to hold me. I was queasy if I looked at the ground and uneasy when Joel flew by with no effort whatsoever.
          The mud dried and fell off us as we flew, leaving no trace of it behind. I began to feel more confident, but I was still cautious. Thank goodness that my brother got the hang of flying, because over toward the trees, we heard someone screaming. I saw Yohance drop his writing paddle and dash into the copse, toward the direction of the twins. From my lofty height I could see them yelling, and pointing up into a tree.
          Joel sailed past me and reached the tree in a minute. I saw a flash of tan or gold as the boys scattered and my brother fell to the ground, with something in his arms. The little boys kept screaming as they ran toward Yohance, who picked them both up.
          I fumbled through the sky, reaching the tree at the same time as Jetta, who raced there from the field. Joel was just standing up, alongside a leopard, which he must have caught in mid air.
          "Joel, are you crazy? Get away from that animal," I yelled, taken aback by his actions.
          My brother just stood there with a dopey expression on his face, his hand patting the leopard’s head. The big cat saw me and growled, but Joel beckoned me closer. "It’s okay, she won’t hurt you. See? She likes me." The leopard sat down beside him and leaned against his leg.
          "Wasn't she going to leap on the boys when you caught her? What makes you think she won’t attack you?"
          "Celestine, she must feel my power. If we are Creators, then we rule over all the animals, too. Come closer and pet her," he coaxed as I edged nearer. "Put your hand on her head and let her feel you." I put my hand on the leopard’s head and was surprised at how hot she felt. Closing my eyes, I connected with her and felt her wildness, while at the same time, her calmness. Her animal brain was fascinating to me and I stood for several minutes, working my way through it.
          I opened my eyes and patted her. She was not as soft as I expected her to be. Her face looked wild but distinguished, with exotic markings. The animal had large feet, fur covering her dreadful claws.
          Joel kissed the top of her head and she started to purr. "I decided to name her Harriet," he stated matter-of-factly, as if he had just received a fluffy new kitten.
          "Harriet?" I said. Now that I knew he was all right, I was furious with Joel. "How did you know she wasn't going to kill you? You are taking too many risks! What’s next? Wrestling crocodiles in the river?" I saw his eyes light up at that suggestion. Oh great, I thought, that’s all my little brother needed, more ideas. I hate tattle-tales, but I planned to tell my dad when we got back to the city. There was more I wanted say, but Joel was admiring Harriet, so I knew it was a waste of time to give him more warnings. Yohance was writing at a fast pace, making notes. Jetta and the boys stood nearby, staring at Joel and the leopard in awe. 
          "We aren't going to make Harriet tame are we, Joel? She won’t walk up to some hunter after this?" I asked.
          He considered it for a moment. "No, I don’t think that will happen, because she knows you and I are special. She might approach Dad, because he’s a Creator, too. If she saw our friends without us around, she might attack them if she were hungry." He lowered his voice. "All wild animals think kids are easy targets. Ulan and Pili are okay as long as they are with us."
          A sharp whistle echoed through the still air. Harriet lifted her head, and darted to Hunter, who stood beside a nearby tree. "What are you doing with my animal?"
          "Just admiring her. She belongs to you?" Joel questioned him.
          "All leopards belong to the Masamba. They were gifts to the jungle people, created for them by the Second Creator, Adanna, the supernatural and mysterious." Yohance answered for Hunter.
          Hunter gave a mocking bow to the Harun man, saying, "What brings you inquisitive children out beyond the city?" At first, I thought he meant Ulan and Pili, but then I realized that he was referring to Joel and me. I bristled at someone calling me a child.
          "We were out here, saving these little boys from being attacked by your beast."
          "A leopard is a leopard, and they must act by their instincts," he said, as he rubbed Harriet’s side.
          "Are you going hunting?" asked Jetta. She was looking at the band around his head, which held little feathered darts with their points sticking up.
          "Yes, now is when we hunt." Hunter pointed to the sun, which was starting to go down, in a bed of orange and purple clouds.
          "Well, let's go, too. I want to see a leopard hunt," Joel said. Hunter shook his head and turned away. Joel rose into the air and hovered twenty feet over the man. "If Harriet wants to get an antelope, there's a small herd over that way," he informed everyone, pointing to the right.
            If Hunter was surprised to see my brother in the air, he kept his face impassive as he looked up. "Thank you, but we do not need any help." He started to walk away,
          We followed him anyway. He looked back at us, and then stared at Jetta, who smiled and promised, "The Creators are curious. We will all be silent."
          All of us looked at Ulan, who retorted, "I can be quiet."
          "You had better be, or you must leave," Hunter said as a warning. He turned and followed Harriet, who headed for the antelope herd. Joel floated overhead, but I stayed on the ground. Hunter trod silently, but the rest of us walked too noisily, which caused him to turn around and glare at us from time to time. Soon, we came to a rise where Hunter motioned to us to hide behind some rocks. The antelope stood in the long, yellow grass. Hunter and Harriet slid down the slope and crept away until they disappeared into the grassy sea. I wished that I had chosen to fly overhead like Joel, so I could see what was happening.
          Nothing changed for a long while, and then some of the antelope lifted their heads and moved restlessly, sensing danger. The grass shook as the leopard darted to the edge of the herd, and they scattered in panic. A small buck started running, but the grass was too tall to see Harriet behind him. It darted over to the right as Hunter popped up out of the grass and threw some darts at the antelope. One stuck in the middle of the buck’s neck, but the animal kept running and swerved to get away from Hunter.
          The animal did not go much further, before it fell. Hunter and Harriet walked up to the spot where it dropped. Joel floated down to the ground beside them. We took that as a signal to come out of hiding, and we walked through the grass.
          The animal was dead. It died with its eyes open, which was creepy and sad at the same time. Joel sighed. "If the buck had to die, at least it died fast. What was in that dart? Was it poison?"
          Hunter cocked an eyebrow. "Do you think my people would eat a poisoned animal?" When we stood there, waiting for an answer, he said, "It is a secret that my people discovered ages ago," and that was all he would say.
          Hunter wasted no time in searching around until he found two long limbs. He cleared the branches from them, and then unhitched a coiled rope from his belt, and began to tie the animal on top of the poles. We watched, fascinated. Then he picked up one end and hoisted the poles onto his shoulders. He walked at a rapid pace, pulling the animal along behind him.
          We marched along, the boys whooping and running before us until we reached the edge of the jungle. It was getting dark now and soon we would not be able to see. Hunter put the poles down. "I hope this satisfies your curiosity," said the Masamba man. It was his way of dismissing us.
          "But don’t you need help to get the antelope home through the jungle?" I wanted to know. He turned and motioned to Harriet, who bounded into the underbrush and disappeared from sight.
          Jetta moved closer to Hunter, giving him her loveliest smile and he grinned a little in return. "Thank you for the interesting experience of showing us how you hunt."
          "You are welcome," he said, looking at Jetta, then beyond her to the rest of us. "I hope you will leave now. Some of my tribesmen are coming and they would not understand why I am here with you." This time, Hunter sounded a little less curt.
          "Goodbye then, and thanks," I said, as Yohance and Joel echoed me.
          "I had fun. You are so brave and you tricked that antelope," said Ulan. "We want to see you again. My brother and I could help you next time."
          Hunter smiled at the boy and grasped his shoulder. "I will look for you. Now, will you and your brother be brave warriors and escort everyone back home?"
          "Yes," Ulan said, grasping Jetta's hand. He took mine, but his eyes widened in shock when he touched me. "Your hand is so warm and you are buzzing, like a bee."
          Pili reached over and took Joel's hand. "Yes, I feel it, too," he said in a soft, wondering voice.
          The Masamba man looked grave, and I wondered if he was thinking about when Dad touched him. My assumption was correct, because he automatically put his hand on the spot where his wound had been.
          We turned away and Jetta was last to go. Joel and I could see well in the dark, so we led the others to the road. As we found our way home in the twilight, the three moons rose, one after another.

Tuesday, August 30, 2011

Travels to Fahdamin-Ra

I am re-releasing my first book, Travels to Fahdamin-Ra. This is a soft cover and ebook version, available on Kindle, Nook, and Smashwords, with a new cover! For the next week, I will download a chapter each day so that people can read the book and get to know Celestine and Joel Bridges, the main characters of the story.

Chapter 1
The Secret

Everyone loves a secret. Sometimes you keep secrets and sometimes they keep you. My secret and I held on to each other for years, but our tale is so fantastic that I have to tell it. Maybe you will believe me, or maybe not - you will have to decide for yourself.
I will start at the beginning, on June 30 - back in the summer when I was fourteen and my brother, Joel, was twelve. My name is Celestine Bridges, by the way, and our particular adventure began when my father retired from the navy and celebrated his birthday all on the same day. My mother planned a day of festivities for him, ending with a party at our house.
My Bridges grandparents drove up from New York for the special event. That evening, when most of the visitors were gone, Grandmother presented Dad with an extraordinary gift. “Raymond, this belongs to you, now that you are out of the service and will be staying in one place,” she said, handing him a round, carved block of wood. “This has been passed down through our family since they lived in Africa. I have saved it all these years in a safe-deposit box, so make sure you keep it secure.”
Joel and I leaned over Dad’s shoulder as we examined it. The wood heirloom was the shape and size of a small tin you get cookies in at Christmas. The dark brown wood was almost the color of my father’s hands and covered with intricate carvings. Etched on the top was a sun surrounded by an eagle, a fish, and a leopard. Mountains, trees, flowers, and vines adorned the sides. “All these years, Mother, and you never said a thing. Do you know what country it is from?”
“I’m sorry, dear. I don’t know much about it at all, except that when my mother gave it to me, told me to keep it safe, and to pass it down to my child with the mark. Since you are my only child, I suppose you must carry the mark, though she never explained what it was. At any rate, I hope you will put this in a safe place.”
“Don’t worry, Mother, I understand that it is irreplaceable. I will take it to the bank on Monday.” My father took the object out to the porch, where Dr. Oba Tutuola was talking to my mother, Valerie, and her sister, Lucy. “Oba, have you seen anything like this?” Dad asked, as he passed it to his friend. Dr. Tutuola held the item carefully, the light overhead reflecting in his glasses. He was Nigerian and taught history and African studies at a nearby college.
“This is an unusual box and the carvings are quite detailed. I have never seen wood quite like this before,” he commented, studying it.
“It’s a box?” Joel asked. “How does it open?”
“Well, I am guessing that it is a box, because of its size and the carvings on it. Sometimes, people hide important things in small boxes, and there is a trick, like a puzzle, to opening them. Perhaps if you study it, you will figure out how to get it open.” Dr. Tutuola held it gently as he traced a fingertip over the surface.
“May I see it?” asked Mom, and we passed the heirloom to her. Even though she is not of African descent, she worked in Nigeria and the Republic of Benin after college, and was always interested in everything African. She and my aunt exclaimed over its beauty as my grandmother hovered nearby. The only one who was not curious was my grandfather, who settled in the living room and read the newspaper instead.
When my turn came, I cradled the box with a sense of wonder. What country did it come from, and how many relatives of mine held this box in their hands? Why did they make it and want to pass it down? If it were a box, what could be in it? Diamonds? Gold? A treasure map? “Now, dear,” my grandmother instructed as she took it away from me, “this is not a toy, but a delicate artifact that has great sentimental value.” I did not say anything, but knew that once my grandmother was gone, Dad would let me study it as long as I wanted.
Our grandparents left the next day, cruising up the street in their big Cadillac. The atmosphere in the house relaxed a little, without their stern presence. Joel and I scrutinized the carved wood object, and talked Dad out of putting it in a safe-deposit box until we had a chance to figure out if it opened.
We picked it up and puzzled over it many times, but it was summer in Maine, and the secret of the box became less of a priority as each day went by. It was turning out to be the best summer ever with our parents. Dad was waiting until fall before he started his new job at an accounting firm, and Mom was taking a break from her work designing and sewing costumes. She kept sewing for the rest of us though, making Dad some new shirts, a new dress for me, and some costumes for Joel, who was still young enough to dress up as a Samurai, a genie, or an alien.
Dad worked on the motorboat and when it was ready, we went out on the river in the evenings, to cool off after hot July days. He also started scraping loose paint from the house, keeping my brother and me busy picking up chips off the ground. We were looking forward to helping him paint after the scraping was done, because he was going to let us stand on the scaffolding.
One night at supper, Dad announced that he would be taking the heirloom to the bank the next day, for safekeeping. After we cleaned up the kitchen, Joel went into the living room, to study the box one last time. “You know what doesn’t make sense to me?” he commented. “The eagle should be in the sky, the fish should be in the water, and the leopard should be by the trees.”
I put down my book and went to study the carvings again. To the left of the sun were some mountains, a blank area of sky above them. On the right, tall trees stood, curved along the edge of the box. Below the sun were small ridges, which looked like waves. It did not make sense that the leopard was standing on the water, the eagle was flying in the trees, and the fish was by the mountains. “Do you think those animals can move?” I asked.
Joel put the box down on the coffee table and started to shift each of the carved animals on the lid. Nothing happened. I tried pressing the sun, pushing against it with my fingertips. When I lifted my hand away, my brother put a finger on each animal. He had to stretch to touch all three, so I put my pointer finger on the fish. “Push down on all three at the same time,” he ordered. We pushed hard, and there was an almost inaudible click as the sun moved up a tiny bit. “Wow-hoo! Did you see that, Sis-tine?” He pulled on the sun, but it did not budge.
“Here, try this.” I turned the sun like a knob. It did not move, but the animals did since they were connected to each other on a circular disk. I dialed them to the right locations and when they fell into place, the whole top of the box gave a click. I rotated it around, but nothing happened. For the next ten minutes or so, Joel and I fiddled with it, until both of us stopped trying and just stared at it.
“I thought it would work like a dial and open when we got to the right place. I wonder what we’re supposed to do next,” Joel said. We sat unmoving, for several minutes and thought hard. I was beginning to think of going back to my book when my brother jumped up and grabbed the box again. “Maybe it works like a combination on a safe,” he exclaimed, moving it back into the position where the top of the box was realigned. He dialed it several ways, finally lining up some faint markings on the top and sides. He found the correct sequence and the sun popped up even more. Joel grasped the sun like a knob and the top of the box came off.
We hollered for our parents to come as we peered inside. There was a recess in the middle where a purple fabric bag lay, about the size of my fist. Mom and Dad arrived on the scene, gasping as they saw Joel holding the lid. “You figured it out. Good for you two!” Mom praised us.
Dad beamed at us as he pulled the bag out. It had gold drawstrings and gold script on the side of it. “This bag looks brand new,” my father observed. He loosened the drawstrings, opened the bag, and poured a gold necklace into his hand. “Wow! Who would have guessed that this would be in there?” As he held it up, the thick chain gleamed. There was a pendent attached to the necklace, a gold cage of sorts around an oval, brown stone. “This is strange. What type of stone is this?”
“What kind of writing is on the bag?” I asked, as Mom and I studied it.
“I have no idea,” Dad replied, “but I think I will take it to Oba in the morning and see what he says. In the meantime, you have to show me how you opened this.”
Joel and I demonstrated how it opened, which lead to an animated discussion until Mom noticed the time and sent us off to bed. The next morning, Dad hustled our discovery to Dr. Tutuola and then came home with another piece of the puzzle solved.
“Dr. Tutuola is sure that the writing is Arabic and is asking a colleague to translate it for us. While I was there, one of the geology professors looked at the rock and thought it was a type of sandstone, though its dark brown color is unusual.” Dad shook his head. “This box is a mystery. Oba said he would drop by later and tell us what he found out, so I invited him to stay for dinner.”
“Oh good, I know just what to make,” said Mom, and she went to the kitchen. Dad phoned his mother, shocking her with the news. My father explained to her, step by step, how to open the box. He refrained from telling her that Joel and I were the ones who discovered the secret.
That evening, my brother and I hung around outside, so we would know the instant when Dr. Tutuola arrived. We ushered him into the house the moment he got out of his car, then Joel asked, “So, what does the writing say?”
Dr. Tutuola smiled as he searched in his pocket for a piece of paper, which he unfolded and read. “Translated, this is what it says: ‘Take me away to my heart’s desire/ Deepest secret, my divine gift/ For me, for all my chosen descendants/ Land that we rule, subjects we love/ To the world where I am The One/ Take me away to Fahdamin-Ra.’”
“I wonder why it is in Arabic and not one of the African languages?” my father inquired. “Where is Fahdamin-Ra? I have never heard of it.”
“No one has ever heard of it though, translated, it means ‘followers of the sun’,” Oba said. “We guessed that the writer used Arabic because many tribes in Africa had only verbal languages until recently.”
“So there is no way of knowing where the writer came from originally?” Mom asked.
“No, but I find the phrase, ‘Where I am The One,’ fascinating – because in my Yoruba language, ‘The One’ is Olodumare, the Creator.”
“What are you going to do with the necklace now, Dad?” Joel looked at him expectantly. “Are you going to wear it?”
We all laughed at the idea of my quiet, reserved father wearing something so large and flashy. “No, son, I won’t be wearing it,” he said, “But I must admit that I am curious to know why my ancestors didn’t use the gold to buy their freedom.” He and my grandmother had worked for a year on our genealogy, tracing back to a farm in Maryland where our ancestors, a woman and her daughter, had arrived as slaves from West Africa.
“Perhaps they did not know what the box contained,” Dr. Tutuola suggested. “Maybe, when it was passed down to them, no one told them the secret.”
“We can talk about it some more while we eat,” Mom broke in. “Oba, you will be happy to know that I cooked your favorite, chicken and peanut stew.” We trooped off to the dining room, and discussed the box and its mysterious contents all through the meal, which we ate with our hands, Nigerian style.
After supper, we showed Dr. Tutuola how we had opened the box and then my father dropped the chain and the stone in the little bag and placed them inside. He added the translation and then closed the lid. “This box is much more valuable than I realized, so I will take it to the bank tomorrow.”
The next morning, I woke up and saw that it was raining. Disappointed, I washed and dressed, then went downstairs to the kitchen. There was the smell of bacon, and a bowl of fresh strawberries was on the counter. Mom got up from the table where she and Dad were sitting, and cooked some bacon for me while I toasted an English muffin. Joel appeared, so Mom added more bacon to the pan while he fixed the rest of his breakfast.
When we finished eating, my parents sat on the porch and sipped coffee, while my brother and I cleared the table. “Why is the box on the counter?” I asked, spying it as I loaded the dishwasher.
“Oh, I was cleaning it with a little lemon oil,” my mother responded. “I wanted to polish it before your dad takes it to the bank today.”
“We won’t see it again, Dad?” Joel asked.
“No, son, it needs to be stored somewhere safe.”
“Can we see the necklace again?” I asked. At my dad’s nod, I opened the case, pulled out the bag, and put the piece of jewelry on, feeling the gold cool and heavy on my neck. “Wow, this weighs more than I thought it would. I have to go look at myself in the mirror.” I went into the bathroom and stared at the heavy gold chain with its mysterious pendant.
“Here, I want to try it,” Joel said, and I put it on over his wooly head. He was too short to see himself in the mirror, so I got a footstool for him to stand on. Next, my brother went out on the porch to show our parents. “I look like a king.”
I called him to come into the kitchen as I picked up the piece of paper with the verse on it. “Wait, your majesty, let me sing you the song that comes with your royal necklace.” Using a theatrical voice, I sang, “Take me away to my heart’s desire, deepest secret, my divine gift. For me, for all my chosen descendants, land that we rule, subjects we love, to the world where I am The One, take me away to Fahdamin-Ra.”
I bowed deeply and then stood, grinning at my brother. Something bright caught my eye. It was the stone, which was glowing, getting brighter as I stared at it. “Joel, look, look!” I shouted, pointing at the stone.
Joel glanced down and gave a yelp, and then yanked at the necklace as he cried, “Help, I can’t get it off, it won’t move.” I grabbed the chain too, which was becoming warmer and felt so heavy that I could not pull it off either.
Seeing us from the kitchen window, my parents jumped up from the table and ran to help. The stone gave off a white light so blinding that I could not see them and did not know if they were near us. I stumbled, falling against my brother, as if a carpet had been pulled out from beneath my feet. The light isolated us and my hands could not let go of the chain, which burned like a brand in my palms. For a few moments, all I was aware of was the light and the heat from the necklace. Although I sensed only air beneath my feet, I did not have the sensation of falling. I could hear Joel panting in my ear, his breath warm against my neck.
It was a relief when there was something solid under my feet again, though the light faded away, leaving us in blackness. As I blinked my eyes and slowed my breathing, the necklace lost its warmth and I could let go of it. The darkness started to recede, and as my eyes adjusted, I was able to see again, but I was not familiar with my surroundings. Joel and I were standing in the middle of a warm, humid jungle, and we had no idea how we had arrived there.