Wakanda Rhoqo
"Father, tell me a story."
"Which one?"
"About the ngaphandle."
"Always the Outsiders. Where should I start?"
"At the beginning."
#
Indumiso okhokho.
After the five tribes lowered their spears, Wakanda prospered. Our neighbors brought precious salt and ivory to trade for our tools and crafts, which were finer and more durable than any other. By the time of Queen M'Bini they had adopted our dress, our ways, even honored the Lady Bast. They could never be Wakandan, but they were no longer ngahandle: they became phakathini, something in between.
By the blessing of Bast (or of the holy edwaleni metal, if that is any different), Wakandans grew longer-lived than the phakathini. Legends of the land of undying men traveled the trade routes and reached the ears of Thutmose III, Son of Ra, King of Upper and Lower Egypt, Beautiful of Forms (or so he claimed). Convinced he had found the entrance to Duat, the underworld, he sent his army to retrieve the secret of immortality, for he was growing old and there was still much he wished to conquer besides death.
And so Overseer Djehuty journeyed up the Nile, past the Fourth Cataract into the unknown. He followed whispers and shadows across the Nubian chiefdoms and the Azani city-states, the Semien mountains and the jungle of Omo, and reached the plains of Turkana. The bronze-clad Egyptians rode chariots of war, brandishing khopesh and bow. Wakandan warcraft was no match, for we had grown complacent in peace, but they learned to fear the black spirit that terrorized their camps at night.
M'Bini led a fighting retreat while we learned once more the way of war. Hoes were beaten into spears, caregivers and artisans into warriors, and the daughters of the great families into the Dora Milaje. Still, the defenders were losing their last stand at the holy caves of Mena Ngai when day became black as night, and the blessed face of Lady Bast towered over the battlefield.
"Oh, come on."
"What is it, little ingwe?"
"You expect me to believe the Goddess showed up?"
"That used to be your favorite part."
"That's for babies. It's not historical. And lazy storytelling: literally deus ex machine."
The father laughed. "I think it's pronounced mah-kee-nah. Very well, when you have your own precocious daughter you can tell her how the Djehuty expedition brought Egyptian influences to Wakandan culture, and of the power struggle between the ruling Panther tribe and the rising Merchant tribe. As today I am the storyteller, there is a Goddess in a battlefield."
"Fine."
The Egyptians threw down their weapons, for they honored the Dark Lady in their own land as Ubaste, or Baset, and were more god-fearing than certain little girls. Djehuty whipped and threatened, but it was one thing to fight undying men, quite another to fight a god. The soldiers scattered, and none ever made it back to the temples of Waset.
M'Bini summoned the Taifa Nago council to discuss the Egyptian threat. The generals said Wakanda was too big to hide, yet too small to protect itself. Like the elephant facing the lioness, it would have to grow large enough to dissuade any threat, an empire stretching from Nyanza to the Delta. Do you know what the Queen said?
"She said no!"
Instead of war she chose kubodwa, isolation. We called back our envoys to the phakathini, and the gates of Wakanda were closed to the world.
#
The seasons turned and Wakanda had faded into legend by the time a ngaphandle next came to our door. The Border tribe could have killed him then and there, but they knew of (and perhaps encouraged) King N'Tathu's interest in the Outside, and so brought him before the Ivory Throne. In an odd Azani dialect even the Merchants could hardly understand, he introduced himself as Ariat son of Abreha, subject of King Ezana of Aksum and servant of God.
"Which God?" asked N'Tathu, intrigued.
"The only one there is, my lord."
The Taifa erupted in protest at the blasphemy.
"You worship the sun disc, Aten?" asked the King.
"My God created the sun and stars."
"And Pharaoh allows this heresy?"
It was Ariat's turn to be surprised. He spilled a bag of earth on the floor and drew with his finger. N'Tathu recognized the former phakathini lands, but not the detailed coast beyond. "Aksum," the ngaphandle said proudly. He traced the Nile and the dreaded enemy, then kept drawing where any Wakandan map would have ended in monsters and flights of fancy.
"Egypt was conquered long ago by the Persians," said Ariat, parting the earth. Then the Greeks, then the Romans."
"Barbarians from beyond the desert and sea," said N'Tathu.
"Perhaps," said Ariat, giving him a coin. "But their silver is good enough."
N'Tathu traced the engraving of the grim man in laurels. "What does it say?"
"Constantinus Augustus, Emperor," said Ariat. "What do you put in yours?"
N'Tathu tossed him a coin, more finely minted.
"Wakanda rhoqo!" cried the child, crossing her arms.
"Wakanda forever," said N'Tathu. "Why do you trespass in our kingdom?"
"I am writing the greatest geographical treatise in the world," Ariat said modestly. "It will surpass Herodotus' Histories and Ptolemy's Geographia!"
"You have given us much to think about," said the King. "Leave us now to decide your fate."
The Taifa called for his head: after centuries of blissful isolation, this ngaphandle intended to literally put it on a map! Alone, the Border tribe argued that if these Roman legions were to keep marching South, no amount of discretion would help.
"Enough," said N'Thathu. "Get the ngaphandle."
The traveler was brought once more before the King.
"Ariat, son of Abreha," said N'Thathu. "I invite you serve the Throne as a guest of the Panther tribe." Such an honor was unheard of since the time of the phakathini. "You are to travel the world with my retainers. You may write your treatise."
"My lord…" said Ariat.
"However," N'Thathu continued, "it may never leave this kingdom. Speak any word of Wakanda to the outside world and you will be killed. Reject this offer and you will be killed."
"In that case I accept, my lord."
"But who is to be exiled from the homeland?" asked the Royal Shaman. "Who would choose to live as a ngaphandle dog in the land of war?"
The chief of the Border tribe stepped forward, and the Hatut Zeraze were born. Ariat went on to shepherd Wakandan agents throughout the known world. His Journeys of a War Dog is one of the oldest ngaphandle texts in the Royal Library.
#
The seasons turned and Aksum had faded from living memory when spymaster Kuhlola approached the Throne. As the Panther prince N'Tlanu was not yet of age, N'Tandathu of the River tribe had won the honor of Umpathi, steward.
"Another raid, my lord," said Kuhlola. "I fear the Kitara may soon collapse."
"Though their ancestors were phakathini," said N'Tandthu, "we owe them no protection."
"Their people are being taken to Mji Mkongwe."
"The barbarian Aristotle says some men are marked out for subjection, others for rule."
"Clearly he was never a slave."
"What would you have me do?"
"Come with me," said Kuhlola. "See for yourself."
"The King has never left Wakanda before."
"Good thing you are just the Umpathi, then."
N'Tandthu smiled at the impertinence. The Taifa objected and were overruled. The spy and the ruler traveled South to the city-states of the Swahili Coast, where Indian and Arab merchants traded in spices, kohl and people. They bought passage on a double-masted dhow to Socotra, Muscat and Basra, and sailed the Tigris to the capital of the Caliphate.
Baghdad had grown into a city of over a million under the Abbasid dynasty, drawing merchants from Bactria to the Maghreb. Scholars from around the world came to the Mustansiriyah madrasah and Bayt al-Hikma, the House of Wisdom.
"Too many people," said N'Tandthu, pulling his turban closer. "Too much dust."
"We have arrived," said Kuhola, stopping at a corner bookseller.
"The owner must be very wealthy, to have so many books," said the Umpathi, impressed. "But surely no one on this street can afford them."
"Oh but they can," said Kuhola, selecting a volume and revealing flowing Arabic script. "Feel the pages, my lord. They have learned the art of paper from the Chinese, easier to make than parchment, less cracking than papyrus, better at absorbing ink."
"Ingenious," said N'Thandthu, turning to the cover. "Who is Ibn Khaldun?"
"A historian," said Kuhola. "As I understand it he argues small barbarian tribes lose asabiyyah, social cohesion, when they become large sophisticated empires, and are in turn conquered by some other barbarian tribe."
The shopkeeper tore the book from N'Thandthu's hands, firing rapid Arabic. The Umpathi was not as fluent as the spy, but he didn't need to be. Kuhola apologized, but the shopkeeper was unmollified.
"What's wrong?" asked N'Thandthu.
"He is demanding compensation for an imagined slight," said Kuhola.
"Just pay the extortionist and let's go," said N'Thandthu, Panther senses taught.
A bodyguard joined the shopkeeper, scimitar drawn.
"They're raising their price," said Kuhola, drawing a sizzling metal tube from his cloak.
The two laughed at the tube until it exploded into acrid smoke, blood sprouting from the guard's thigh. Kuhola pulled the Umpathi through the frenzied crowd.
"What was that?" cried N'Thandthu when they stopped in an alley.
"Chinese hand cannon," said Kuhola, smiling.
"I have seen enough, spymaster," said N'Thandthu. "The city is indeed impressive."
"Yet built on the backs of slaves," said Kuhola.
"All great ngaphandle empires seem to have done so, though the scope may have increased. What would you have me do?"
"End the trade in the Indian Ocean, the Red Sea, the Sahara," said Kuhola. "By force if necessary."
"An empire, then?" said N'Thandthu. "To rise and fall with Khaldun?"
"If we were to fall," said Kuhola, "it would be in a burst of glory."
N'Thandthu changed many things on his returned. The Hatut Zeraze were instructed to monitor not only threats, but also scientific and technological developments. He founded the Royal University to consolidate and build upon this knowledge. The office of Umpathi was made permanent, by appointment of the Taifa. One thing he did not change, however, was kubodwa. Historians estimate the Eastern slave trade took over five million people between the 15th and 19th centuries.
"That's a new story," the child said grimly.
"The world has so much beauty in it," said the father. "I did not wish to scare you with its ugliness."
"Why did people have slaves?"
"They thought people who were different were not really people."
"Like Wakandans and ngahandle?"
The father chuckled. "Aren't you too young to be rebelling against your elders? I would try to argue that turning a blind eye to slavery is not as bad as actively profiting from it. And that even when the cause is just, it is not always clear what can be done about it, or what the unintended consequences might be."
"It's easy, you do the right thing."
"And that is why I love you so, little ngonyama."
#
The seasons turned, and beautiful Baghdad had fallen to Mongols and Turkomans, Iranians and Ottomans, by the time Queen S'Xhenxe crossed the Sahel. The caravan traveled the kingdoms of Sennar and Darfur, Wadai and Bornu, and came to the Seventeen Gates of the Yoruba capital of Oyo-Ile. It was festival time, and ilari officials paraded with half-shaved heads and red and green fans.
"They seem rather serious for a festival," said S'Xhenxe.
"It is the festival of Orun," said General Ngoku of the Dora Milaje, who had written the mission briefing. "The head of the Mesi council will ask the gods whether they still favor the Alaafin. If not, he will present him with a parrot's egg, and the Alaafin will commit suicide."
"At least they stab you in the front around here."
They journeyed down the Egbado Corridor to the coastal town of Ilaro, where captives were being marched from the port factory to the largest ship S'Xhenxe had ever seen.
"We wish buy passage on the ship," she told the ilari oversseer in broken Yoruba.
The official looked at her as if she were mad. "Do you wish to be eaten by the white men with red faces and long hair?"
Her expression did not change.
"Suit yourself," said the ilari. "The ugly one is the captain."
"Why do you sell your people?" she asked.
The ilari laughed. "These are not Yoruba, they are Nupe. If they had the weapons, it would be them selling us."
"Two black women on a slaving ship," said Ngoku. "Why do I doubt we'll arrive free passengers?"
"Agreed," said S'Xhenxe. "I much prefer the title Pirate Queen."
"Wait," said the child, "wasn't the Queen forbidden from leaving Wakanda?"
"Very sharp, little isilwanyana. After the Uzuko Reform the Taifa became an elected body, and its approval was required for major policy decisions - like overturning kubodwa. S'Xhenxe wanted to stop the slave trade, the Taifa refused, she abdicated. She set out to build a New Wakanda in the Americas and the head of the Dora Milaje followed. It is said they were lovers, and I believe it, for why else would you do such a crazy thing?"
"Mom would do that for you?"
"Mom wouldn't go to the braai stall for me."
"I heard that," someone said across the room as the child giggled.
As expected, the captain attacked before they made port. The Yoruba among the captives would later say Shango himself rained fire and lightning on the crew, and who am I to say what unearthly power coursed through S'Xhenxe that night?
The ship ran aground near Le Cap, and free people escaped into the mountains. At the time most of the world's coffee and sugar was produced in Saint-Domingue by half a million black slaves worked to the bone by forty thousand whites. Remember the British Colonies won their independence but kept their slaves. The French Revolution abolished slavery, but Napoleon soon backtracked. Well, the Haitian Revolution did it for real.
Historians estimate 12 million people were taken in the Atlantic slave trade.
"The Taifa were cowards," said the child.
"They represented the people," said the father.
"Then the people were cowards."
"Perhaps. The barbarian Aristotle said rule by one or by many could be good or corrupt, depending on whether they served the private or the common interest. But who gets included in the common interest?"
"Maybe we shouldn't be listening to an apologist for slavery."
"Fine, but should a Queen go against the people's will to help others?"
"Yes! What else is she to do?"
"The easy answer is to convince the people of your cause," said the father. "The real answer is I'm not sure.'
#
The seasons turned and slavery had been abolished in the Americas by the time S'Xhenxe's great-granddauther, Queen S'Bhozo, ascended the Throne.
"The Abyssinian situation has developed," said General Mkhosini, spreading black and white aerial photographs over the tabletop map. The Italians have crushed Ras Mengesha at Coatit, capturing weapons and supplies. This is a severe blow to Emperor Menelik."
"So the Roman legions finally arrive," said S'Bhozo. "Where do the Colonizers stand?"
"France, Germany and Austria have sided with Italy," said spymaster Bulala. "Russia has pledged to support their Orthodox brethren, but I fear it will not be enough."
"And the British?"
"Unclear."
"Damn the British," said S'Bhozo. "If they hadn't pushed Italy into Eritrea we wouldn't be in this mess. Options?"
"The only one there ever is, my lady," said Umpathi Ngameli. "Do nothing."
"Doing nothing is how we got here," spat Mkhosini. When the Portuguese first built their trading posts on the coast, we did nothing. When the Colonizers carved up the continent, we did nothing. When King Leopold killed ten million Congolese through war, starvation and disease, we did nothing..."
"Yes, the world is a tragic place," said Ngameli. "That is the way of the ngahandle."
"It may soon be our way as well, for we are running out of room in which to hide," said Mkhosini. "When Abysinnia has fallen, do you think the Colonizers will humor an independent Wakanda? Do you propose we bow to the Italians in Addis or the British in Nairobi?"
"We can work out an agreement," said Ngameli. "Some form of protectorate."
"Careful, Umpathi," said Mkhosini, "when you pretend subservience too long, you may not realize when you are no longer pretending."
"What would you propose, then?" cried Ngameli. "That we march on Rome with the Design Group's tanks and poison gas? Declare war on the Triple Alliance?"
"Beneath the bluster he does have a point, Mkhosini," said S'Bhozo. "Any material support we provide will raise questions."
"Tanks alone do not win wars," said Mkhosini. "Logistics do. Menelik may have Colonizer rifles, but his military organization is feudal. He can mobilize a large force, but not for long if it is to live off the land. We can provide mules, food, water. Nothing more advanced than what they currently have."
"The Taifa will never allow it," said Ngameli. "I need not remind you of the last time the Monarch tried."
"Thank you, Umpathi," S'Bhozo said curtly. "Perhaps now that their own safety is at stake the Taifa will find more generosity in their hearts."
The Queen lobbied, compromised and threatened, and for the first time in modern history the Taifa approved strictly limited support to Abyssinia.
"Finally!" cried the child.
Menelik defeated the Italians at Amba Alagi, and then decisively at Adwa. Italy, France and Britain recognized the sovereignty of Abyssinia and its minor ally, the Kingdom of Wakanda.
#
The seasons turned and Italy had returned and been kicked out again by the time S'Bhozo's grandson, King Azzuri, ascended the Throne.
"Here comes the top secret intelligence," the King said as the spymaster entered.
"Indeed," said Mfihlelo, activating the main screen with her Kimoyo card. "It's called BBC."
"...student riots continue in Soweto," said the news anchor. "The official casualty toll stands at 58 dead and 788 injured - only two of the dead and five of the injured are white. Over 1,000 policemen armed with rifles and stun guns are moving into the streets of the sprawling township…"
"Police are using deadly force," said Mfihlelo. "Fatalities probably reach the hundreds, over a thousand wounded."
"Animals," said Azzuri. "What do we know?"
"Let me see," said Mfihlelo, tapping randomly. "As I suspected, the satellite imagery shows South Africa is still being ruled by a fucking white supremacist police state. Despite all the pretty words, one that is tolerated by the Colonizer - and, to my undying shame, by Wakanda."
"Please, Mfihlelo, we've been over this…" said Azzuri.
"And will continue to go over it, my lord, until you dismiss me from your service or decide to take action."
"It's complicated."
"What angels we could be if only the world were not so complicated," said Mfihlelo, tapping. "Incidentally, they've completed construction on an underground shaft in the Kalahari. They're trying to get the bomb."
"Blessed Bast," said Azzuri. "I pray the Soviets and the Americans don't kill us all over this."
"The Design Team is confident they can shoot down 99% of warheads targeting Wakanda," said Mfihlelo.
"Good for them," said Azzuri, "it's just that pesky 1% that keeps me up at night. And, you know, the destruction of the rest of the world."
"You can't hide behind the superpowers forever," said Mfihlelo.
"I beg to differ," said Azzuri. "If South Africa collapses under Soviet influence the Americans will see falling dominoes and feel compelled to intervene. Ready to roll the dice on another Cuban Missile Crisis?"
"And your alternative?" said Mifhlelo.
"Diplomacy, pressure, peaceful protest," said Azzuri.
"You have seen how power responds to protest," said Mifhelolo. "You know what happened to Gandhi, to Martin Luther King."
"Yet their causes lived on," said Azzuri. "Do you remember the speech by that Nelson fellow?"
"I do," said Mifhlelo. "Do you know where is he now?"
"In prison," said Azzuri.
"Exactly," said Mifhlelo. "He might be another Mugabe."
"He might not."
Under Apartheid, millions of black South Africans were forcefully relocated to "group areas" within South Africa or to nominally independent "black homelands". Blacks were not allowed to marry whites or to own businesses in "white" South Africa, and required passes in order to work there. The security forces killed 2,700 people between 1960 and 1994.
"If the bomb was the problem," said the child, "couldn't we have stopped the ngahandle from getting it?"
"Perhaps when we had it and they did not, I suppose," said the father. "But that would just have made them want it more. Nuclear weapons do funny things to people's heads. Some say it brings peace between the great powers. It sure didn't bring peace to their proxies."
#
The seasons turned and that Nelson fellow had become the first democratically elected President of South Africa by the time Azzuri's grandson ascended the Throne. But that story you already know.
"I like hearing you tell it."
"Well, he was foolish, you see," said the father. "But rather good-looking."
"And modest," someone said across the room.
"Yes, above all modest," said the father.
As before, many bad things happened around the world while he was King. One day he tried to do something about it. I like to think he was able to help, a little. But like all those cautious (cowardly?) voices had said throughout history, revealing Wakanda to the world also brought many new problems. Some of these he addressed as best he could. But the really hard ones, those he will leave to his daughter, who is much cleverer than him. Deal?
"Deal!" said the child.
"Wakanda rhoqo, my love."