Birth of a Dark Nation (20 page)

"The Razadi and the Oyo are like cousins,
brothers and sisters!" Ogundiya explained. "Your people and my
people all come from the valley. We did not displace you. Our
division happened hundreds, perhaps over a thousand years ago. We
don't even remember why, Haruna. But know this: the Razadi only
want to be left alone."

"You claim to be our brothers, yet you want
to be alone?" Haruna's young lieutenant stood up and yelled. "How
dare you insult the Oyo with your snobbery! You know that while the
Razadi live peacefully in the valley, your so-called cousins starve
in the cliffs. I should slit your throat right now, old man!"

The lieutenant lunged across the table with a
blade, attempting to slice the Razadi chief. Ogundiya did not even
move. Before the lieutenant knew it, his blade had fallen to the
ground, and the youngest Razadi lieutenant had slammed him against
the wall of the hut.

"I will rip your heart out of your chest and
make you watch me eat it as you die, Oyo scum," the young
lieutenant said, wrapping his hands tightly around the neck of his
rival.

"Let him go, Eşusanya," Ogundiya said. "He
poses no threat to me."

The sandy colored Eşusanya immediately
obeyed, shoving the young lieutenant away. He had fire in his eyes.
He was determined to protect his kin to the death. Eşusanya wore
the traditional long braids of the Razadi people.

"Ogundiya," Haruna began again. "You must
face the facts. The Oyo have dammed the river. We are ready to plow
salt into your fields so that nothing will grow there. We have the
ability to burn your village to the ground and take what we want.
You, Ogundiya, represent the most hated tribe in this region."

"Hated because we just want to be left
alone," Ogundiya said.

"Wrong, old man," Haruna said. "You are hated
because of the evil you represent. Our elders told us that we
couldn't beat Razadi. They taught us to fear you because of the
ruthlessness with which you control this area. They say you are
descended from the devil, that you will even eat human flesh to
stay alive if you have to."

"And do you believe those tales?" Ogundiya
asked.

"No," he said. "The Razadi are formidable
opponents, but your time has passed…"

~

Justin gasped and Victor's concentration was
broken.

"Tell me what you saw," Victor sniped.

"You. Threatening somebody the same way you
did me."

"Tell me more," Victor demanded.

"A war council between the Razadi and the
Oyo. I don't understand why they hate you."

"They've always hated us," I said. "The Oyo
lived in the cliffs, a few days' journey from us. Their land was
infertile and the game was sparse. They were a poor tribe. Poor and
jealous."

"Which led to desperation," Victor added.
"They wanted our land, our crops, our way of life…everything."

"Why didn't they just ask?" Justin asked.

"Wasn't their way," Victor said. "They were
bred to hate us and to fear us, so whatever they wanted, they felt
they had to take."

Justin nodded.

"Come back in," Victor said, cupping Justin's
face once more.

"We fought for days and nights until the
ground was red with the blood of casualties on both sides. Even we,
the youngest of our people, joined the fight. What do you see,
Justin?"

"A field. I'm in a field. There are people
everywhere. It's chaos out here."

"No. Not chaos. War. Look behind you. You see
all those women with spears? They are our mothers and sisters. They
are eager to jump in. Sometimes they do. But we usually prevent
that."

"Why?"

"You kill a woman, you kill a bloodline. We
can't have that."

"You're winning the fight, but the women look
sad."

"Yes," Victor said, breaking the
connection.

"Why?"

"That's enough for today."

Victor walked out of the room.

"Sorry about the laptop," he called from the
hallway.

Justin stood up and walked over to the
destroyed laptop. He tried to pick up the pieces but he had a hard
time bending over.

"Can you help me?" he asked. I walked over to
him, brushed against his side, and told him I'd take care of it. He
walked back to the bed and sat down, exhausted.

"I want to go home," he announced when I was
finished picking up the pieces of the laptop. My heart stopped for
a split second.

"You're safer here," I reasoned. "Your fangs
haven't grown in yet and you're still really weak."

"I want to go home. All this shit I'm
learning here, I can learn at home."

"The answer is no," I said sternly. "Now
that's an order from Babarinde himself."

He glared at me.

"I'm sorry…but it's just not possible right
now."

"You have no idea how this feels, do you?" he
asked.

"I have an idea."

"You were born a Razadi. And I suspect
whatever rite of passage you went through to become a man didn't
leave you feeling dead for most of the day. I feel
terrible
,
Dante. I just want to be at my own place, in my own bed, with my
own stuff."

"I know. And you will get that soon. But for
now? You rest. There's a lot more you're going to have to learn.
Mentally, spiritually, and physically. This is just the
beginning."

Word had gotten out that Justin had fallen
ill, and even though he assured people he would be fine, the office
was still inundated with get-well cards, flowers, and balloons. I
picked them up and filled his room with them, hoping they'd cheer
him up.

"I can't believe all these people care that
much about me," he said. "I barely know them."

"They like you. What's hard to believe?
You're a nice guy."

"I guess," he said.

"Anyway, I'll be giving you your next
lesson," I told Justin gently. He nodded and closed his eyes.

"Wait," he said, quickly opening them
again.

"What?"

"I have something I want to show you."

He looked at me with his mouth agape, smiling
at me with his eyes. Slowly, his fangs emerged, extending just
below his lips.

"That's awesome," I said, smiling.

"I got fangs, yo!"

"Baby fangs," I added. "Just wait until they
get full-sized."

Justin looked away and covered his mouth.

"I can't make 'em go back in yet," he
admitted.

"It's okay. Just relax. I got someplace to
take you," I said, cupping his face and closing my eyes.

~

I sat guard outside of my mother's hut,
eavesdropping on her debate with Ogundiya, our general.

"Mama Abeo," he said. "There has to be
another way. We've fought for too long and too hard to give up
now."

"We have never fought so hard against an
enemy," she replied.

"Sorcery," he responded. "There's no other
explanation. These people…they are our match. But we can defeat
them."

"The soldiers are exhausted, Ogundiya. It's
been months and neither side is giving up. The Oyo want this
land."

"They can't have it! The scrolls say…"

"The scrolls say many things. The scrolls
also say that one day we will rule without the need for force; that
men will bow to us by the look in our eyes. But that day has not
yet come."

My mother was a tall, regal woman, adorned in
the finest fabrics and jewelry. Her tall forehead and wide
cheekbones gave her the appearance of perpetual amusement. And,
generally speaking, she was a happy woman, even when deadly
serious. She had a peace about her that made others flock to her
when the world's problems became too much to bear.

"Then we have to keep fighting!"

"To what end? Listen to yourself. This is not
who the Razadi are. It is not who we are meant to be. It was always
foretold that our sons would be like the airborne seeds of a
flower: blown softly away from home, but sure to land in safety in
another place."

"I won't leave."

"You must. You all must."

"No."

"Ogundiya. It has been twenty years since the
last Razadi child was born."

"I know that."

"Olódùmarè has given us a gift. We are
stronger. We are faster. We live longer."

"And with those gifts come responsibilities,
Abeo. We must protect our land. We must protect our way of life. We
can defeat them."

"But should we? With our gifts come the
burden of the blood thirst. And we could slay and drink every Oyo
that comes our way. But to what end? If not the Oyo, it would be
the Ife. If not the Ife, then the Okoro. They will keep coming.
Ogundiya, the scrolls have already foretold this moment. Everything
we have lived for has come to this day. Our people get stronger and
stronger with each generation, but what has happened? There is no
next generation. My son, my darling Aragbaye, will never know what
it means to be a father. How is that a gift? That, dear friend, is
a curse."

"Indeed, it is a curse to live among a people
that haven't heard the cries of a baby or the laughter of a toddler
in decades. And it seems to me to be a curse to be able to walk in
the sun for a hundred years but to never meet Olódùmarè. All things
come to an end. All things get old and die."

"But we don't. Do you know how old I am?"

"I don't. You've always just been here, as
long as I've lived."

"I'm three hundred fifty two."

"I wasn't aware."

"Time freezes for the Razadi. It's time to
thaw it."

"Mama Abeo, but how do you know? How do you
know that dividing the tribe will save us? How do you know that
allowing the Oyo to live here among you, working with you, loving
you, how do you know that it will work? What if you remain
barren?"

"Ogundiya…it's already happened."

"What?"

"Olateju is with child. She encountered an
Oyo soldier six months ago, before the war started. They love each
other."

"Are we sure the baby doesn't have a Razadi
father?"

"There has been no one else. We have hidden
her for her safety. But she is the proof. The proof that everything
we believe is coming to pass. Those systems and beliefs we hold
dear, those even older than the Orishas."

"Praise Olódùmarè for the blessing of this
child. But damn us all. Damn us all."

I held my breath, trying not to be heard by
my mother. Eşusanya and Aborişade walked up to me quietly.

"What's going on?" Eşusanya whispered.

"It's all going to change," I whispered back,
my voice cracking with emotion.

"What? What are you talking about?" Aborişade
asked.

I shook my head, struggling to hold back the
tears.

~

I stood at attention in between Eşusanya and
Aborişade while my mother addressed the entire village for the
final time. The sun had just risen and a cool breeze still blew
over our land. The vibrant blue sky and pure white clouds were ill
suited for this solemn moment.

"My brothers, my sons, my friends. I stand
here before you today with a heart that is both heavy and
overjoyed. It is heavy because I send you out into the world to
continue our bloodlines. I say farewell to you, the builders, the
soldiers, the philosophers. We will not forget your contributions
to this culture. We know that wherever you go, wherever you land,
you will keep the heart and soul of the Razadi with you. You will
seed your communities with our tenacious spirit. Our influence will
be felt all across the land because of you.

"Even though we will miss you, we know this
division is necessary for the survival of us all. Even now, a new
generation grows. Olateju will be known as the matriarch of the
next generation of our people. May all of you be patriarchs of the
worldwide Razadi empire!"

Next to her stood the very pregnant Olateju
and her Oyo husband, as well as Haruna, the satisfied general of
the Oyo army.

"Ogundiya and Babarinde. Come to me."

Our most senior leader and his deputy
approached my mother. I could not tell what she was whispering to
them, but I could see what she presented them: iron casks and two
scrolls each.

Nervous whispers fell over the crowd. Were
those
the
scrolls? The fundamental tenets of our beliefs and
the history of our origins?

Abeo embraced each man and they rejoined the
group, carefully entrusting the casks and the scrolls to their
assistants. Abeo then descended into the ranks. She looked
carefully into the eyes of about a dozen men, and nodded at them.
She didn't speak at all.

I knew they were all her sons. So much time
had passed in between our births that most of us weren't terribly
close. They were no more my brothers than my peers were, as each
man in our tribe respected one another the same.

She came to me and paused. Tears welled in
her eyes and she leaned close to me.

"You, my youngest, are the one who will
change the world."

"I don't want to go, Mama," I said, choking
on my tears.

"Go. Seek the new dawn. I love you."

"I love you too, Mama."

She took her place in front of her men for
the final time and uttered but one phrase.

"May Olódùmarè and the Orishas forever
protect you!"

"And you!" we shouted in response.

And then, the hundred and twenty five or so
of us, we walked.

And we walked.

And we walked some more.

The low men on the totem pole like me,
Aborişade, Eşusanya, and Ogundiya's son, also named Ogundiya,
didn't ask specific questions of our leadership. We just
walked.

"What did your mother say to you?" Aborişade
asked me on the first night. We lay next to each other on our thin
pallets, staring up at the night sky with its thousands of
stars.

"She said she loved me. She said to seek the
new dawn. And she said that I'd change the world."