"Goodbye loneliness
And so long to my heartache
Now that joy has taken over
And decided to stay
Her love lifts me up
Like no other love before
With every beat of my heart
I'm holding on, hey
Just look what she's done for me
She's erased all the sadness away
Oh-oh-oh
I could never repay the deed
'Cause she keeps loving me more and more"
Blackstreet – "Joy"
N'Jadaka had climbed the mountain of his destiny, only to see more mountains on the horizon ahead of him. Giving a prepared speech to the nation via a vid screen was nothing compared to speaking in front of his transition team. Seventy-five men and women who represented supporters from various factions of Wakandan politics and former military allies stared at him as they sat around one of the largest circular tables he had ever seen. Another twenty-five from opposition groups that ranged in age from thirty to ninety sat with them, too.
The Council of Elders, T'Challa, and Ramonda stayed seated in the back of the room to watch the opening proceedings. N'Jadaka glanced over at Noxolo who stood near a wall along the side of the cavernous room that they would use for the upcoming conference. Noxolo looked so proud to be there because her grandmother, retired military captain Yoneli Majola sat on his right side. Former Lieutenant Sizani B'Lan sat on his left, and their presence filled him with trust and protection. They met him when he was an innocent child. Both women knew his parents, ate with them, laughed with them, and swore allegiance at the cost of their own lives and reputations. Even when all was lost and their cause looked bleak, they stood in for his father even after his death, watching over him from thousands of miles away. All around the table, there were members of every tribe in Wakanda who dared to defy King T'Chaka in secret. They were elders who now wanted to guide his transition as the ruler. N'Jadaka was where his father should've been.
He drank a sip of water and cleared his throat.
"There is so much that I want to share with you today about the outside world…"
N'Jadaka paused as he gazed across the room and locked eyes with T'Challa. The words he had practiced over and over in his bathing room as he smeared his body with oil and scents evaporated. Glancing down at his comm tab that held all of his prepared notes blurred. He closed his eyes and held his breath to help his heart calm the rest of his body.
"My father, Prince N'Jobu, loved Wakanda…"
He opened his eyes.
"He loved his family. The stories he would tell me of this place would keep me up all night, hoping and wishing I could come here and show everyone who I was. Eventually, I came here… as a rightful heir. My father instilled in me the pride of being a Wakandan. Even when I discovered the truth… saw the evidence that I was not wanted here, I still carried in my heart a dream of making you all turn your eyes to see me and others like me. The Lost Tribe is not to be pitied. I am proud of what my people have been able to do with so little all across the globe. We gave the world our brilliance, labor, culture, music, language, dance, food, and an example to follow when we stand up for what's right. My Baba loved us."
N'Jadaka balled up his right fist and tapped it on the table, willing tears that welled up in his eyes to stay put.
"N'Jobu Udaku, a crown prince of Wakanda, had everything any human would want, and he gave it all up because he wanted to be with my mother who had nothing but guts and a warrior spirit. By experiencing the outside world as it truly was, he could find sympathy and empathy for our plight. Instead of living a tranquil life, he struggled with the diaspora. He died because he loved us so much and wanted better days ahead. Old ways of thinking and being here in Wakanda were no longer good enough for him. So now I, King N'Jadaka Udaku, his only child, will bring forth what he and my mother gave their lives for. Despite having a young son that they loved, it was important to fight for others who were in community with us."
N'Jadaka fixed his eyes on Elder M'Kathu.
"There are some on the Council of Elders who fear that I will become a despot. Many in this room who are my detractors resent the way I came to power, even though I followed all the correct steps to do so. No matter how much you may want me to go away, I am an Udaku, and my ancestors who ruled this nation from day one stand with me. If they are with me, who here can be against me and win?"
He let his voice settle in their ears.
"Those of you who question why I seek your counsel when you disagree with my stance and my presence, let me show you something. A lesson my mother and Aunt Lia taught me…"
He tapped his comm tab and tossed up an image of Marcus Garvey in the center of the open circular table. N'Jadaka stood and moved near the section of the large table where his detractors sat.
"That is Marcus Mosiah Garvey. A Jamaican immigrant who left his island nation to seek his fortunes and organize one of the biggest Black-led movements in America. The Universal Negro Improvement Association. He had the diaspora in mind when he tried to create a Pan-African movement. He spoke truth to power but failed. Why?"
N'Jadaka let several images of Garvey's heyday flash all around them, beautiful and proud Black people marching in brigades showing off their numbers in Harlem.
"This man inspired Kwame Nkrumah, the first president of an independent Ghana… Garvey is known as the patron saint of the Pan-African/Black Nationalist movement. He was a polarizing figure. To some, he was the Black Moses of the downtrodden… to others, he was a charlatan. A grifter. He was a visionary man who galvanized pride in Black people everywhere on the planet. Rastafarians in his own country called him a prophet. He bought old raggedy ships to fix up and bring his people home… the Lost Tribe… back here to Africa. Again, why did he fail?"
N'Jadaka showed pictures of Garvey's mug shot, and images of him walking to court to face mail fraud charges in the United States. The last photo he presented was the Black Star Line steamship that was supposed to bring the formerly enslaved back home.
"I'll tell you why. He tried to do everything by himself without surrounding himself with competent people. Garvey was terrible with financial accounting and reaching out for help to people who were better than him. Business mismanagement tanked all of his economic plans to enrich Black people. His sycophants told him what he wanted to hear, and he never considered honest critiques of his detractors. This is a man who had influence and financial support from the poorest of the poor. These people would've followed him anywhere with his Back to Africa stance. Listen to me well, Wakanda. Going back to Africa doesn't mean just physically coming back here. It means reconnecting mentally and spiritually from wherever you are in the world and building up that place rooted in your lineage. Garvey squandered his gifts by not having a strong team. One of Black America's most famous intellectuals, W.E.B. Dubois—a bougie mofo too—called Garvey, and I quote 'the most dangerous enemy of the Negro race in America'. Marcus Garvey ruled his roost with an iron fist and demanded loyalty above anything else. He fucked up."
N'Jadaka looked around the room.
"I will rule with competence. I don't demand blind loyalty, but I will demand respect for my knowledge because I have been in the belly of the beast. I know the blueprint of America, her government, and her military, covert and overt. I'm not afraid to be questioned if I have blinders on. When I worked in Black Ops and was a global mercenary, I relied on my team to give me all the intelligence and potential scenarios I needed to lead successful missions. Leading Wakanda is my biggest mission and I will not fail. A quarter of you in here hate me and I don't care. What I do care about is that you love this country enough to trust my experience and the love I have for my father's legacy as a liberator, alongside my mother."
His detractors glanced around one another, surprised at the transparency of acknowledging their distaste for him.
N'Jadaka returned to his seat and changed the images floating before them.
"Now it's time to begin your understanding of what we're up against historically," he said.
They all dug into the work.
###
N'Jadaka ate a private meal with T'Challa and Ramonda. His children joined them, but their mothers did not. Disa was in Jabariland, and Yani was back at the hospital. Yani agreed to let him have Riki and Sydette for the rest of the week.
The excited chatter was a welcome break from his work after prepping his transition team. It was mentally draining, and he walked away from it pleased with the outcome. They had a core understanding of what the diaspora delegates would bring to the table.
After the early dinner, he escorted his children through the royal garden where they watched a beautiful alpenglow sunset that painted the sky a fiery blood-orange. They inspected the freshly dug rows for Joba's summer squash and waited for the darkness together to enjoy her fairy garden. N'Jadaka chased them around trees and flowers until Kora met them near a large pond.
"Bath time," N'Jadaka said.
He ushered his brood with Kora trailing behind them, and his Doras met him back inside the palace. Riki ran around in front of him, asking a ton of questions and waving his arms around like he was flying. Sydette walked by his side and Joba held onto his hand while they took a private elevator to his home. The girls bathed together first, and he spent that time untwisting Riki's hair. It needed to be washed, and he wondered if it was time to cut it. By the last untwisting, the girls were dried and dressed for bed. He left them to watch a cartoon in the bedroom they wanted to share and he took Riki in for his bath. Helping his son clean himself, he eventually lathered up his hands and washed thick ginger hair that curled into tight ringlets at the tips.
"Baba, how come you're gone for a long time?" Riki asked.
"I'm busy preparing for our guests that are coming next week."
"Even Uncle T'Challa is too busy to play with us. I don't like that."
"We don't either, Lil man. I'd rather be with you all the time, but I'm the king, and Uncle T'Challa is the Black Panther. Our job is to take care of everyone, not just our own families."
"Will Uncle T'Challa have kids one day?"
"I hope he does."
"I wish he'd hurry because I want more boy cousins. Our family only has a bunch of girls."
"Girls are cool."
"Not when I'm the only boy."
"You're very lucky to have two sisters. I didn't have any brothers or sisters growing up."
Riki stared at N'Jadaka.
"Do you miss your Mama and Baba?" Riki asked.
"I do. I can't see them in person, but I can always feel them around me."
He rinsed Riki's hair and then helped him get inside a body dryer that made his son's hair turn into a big puffy 'fro. N'Jadaka ran his hands across the top of the fluff and smiled. Riki had Califa's hair to the bone. The color, texture, and fluffiness made him sniff it. Even the clean scent of it reminded him of his mother.
"Put on your jammies," N'Jadaka said.
Riki wiggled into his dark green pajama bottoms and N'Jadaka lotioned up his back and chest with coco butter to combat the dry, itchy skin his son complained about. They met the girls in the bedroom. Kora had their hair tied up with satin scarves and they watched a new cartoon.
"Are we watching the dragon movie or nah?" N'Jadaka asked.
"We saw it already," Sydette said.
"What?! I thought you three were going to wait for me," N'Jadaka said with a fake whine.
"It was too good to wait, Daddy," Joba said.
"Y'all are some disrespectful children. I've been waiting all week to see it, too," he said.
Riki burst out laughing.
"We're tricking yuh, Baba!" Riki said.
"Can we watch it in your room?" Sydette asked.
"Come on," N'Jadaka said.
They made a pit stop in the kitchenette and grabbed bowls of snacks; honey peanuts, vanilla yogurt drops, and pineapple chunks. Climbing the winding stairs to his opulent bedroom, he settled the children on his bed and let them eat the snacks while he showered and changed into his own nightwear. He set up the view screen to become larger on the wall across from his bed and used his kimoyo to check on his security outside his front door. Noxolo and Aneka were on their post.
He watched a charming film made near Lake Kivu where Wakandan actors pretended to ride dragons to protect an East African fairy world. Riki and Sydette squealed whenever they recognized a place on the screen where they lived with Yani. Kora left him a message that Joba's nanny was taking over for the night shift within the hour, so he could sleep any time he wanted once she arrived.
The movie ended with three zonked-out children on his bed. N'Jadaka didn't bother to move them. He made a space for himself on the far right of the bed facing the door and tapped out a message for Osilee that his family would eat breakfast in his home and not in the palace dining room with the entire family. T'Challa worked around the clock to get ready for their guests, and Ramonda had left for a visit with her older family members. Shuri was probably sleeping in her lab or sneaking off with her boyfriend. The family put in a lot of effort to prepare for the foreign visitors.
Twyla and her fiancé Bibi texted him constantly to put the finishing touches on the itinerary they created for the tour of Wakanda. Their new venture as Eco-Tour guides would be given a test run, and if the diaspora guests, all two thousand of them, gave Twyla great reviews with her newly trained staff, then it would become the model of future tours. Wakanda was also going to be in the middle of the annual Mama Wati celebration in Birnin S'Yan a week after the guests arrived. N'Jadaka wasn't too keen on allowing their visitors access to that area, although symbolically, it would be a fitting event for the diaspora to witness a water deity celebration in their free time. He didn't want the Wakandans to feel like strangers were gawking at their ancient rites as if they were on display for entertainment. For Twyla's sake, he presented the idea of a day trip to the beach in front of the Council of Elders so they could discuss it privately without him. If they felt bothered by the suggested trip, then he would relay that decision to Twyla. The Elders appeared pleased that he came to them humbly asking for their guidance.
It didn't take long for N'Jadaka to doze off. He only had two days to be rested for the UDC. The king overworked himself and pushed too hard to stay up late. Nothing could go wrong or else his goal of shaping the world would collapse from within his own governing body. It filled his dreams with images of meetings, his trial run tour with Twyla, and watching giraffes walk through the palace, their long necks stretched past the sky. He woke up in the middle of the night to use the restroom.
Padding back to bed, he noticed Sydette was missing. From his kimoyo, he knew she was down in the living room. He pulled on a silk robe and left his bedroom to check on her.
Sydette had her nose pressed against the floor-to-ceiling window, staring out at a moonlit sky.
"Sweet Pea?"
She turned at the sound of his voice.
"What are you doing up?" he asked.
"Had a bad dream," she said.
"About what?"
N'Jadaka patted the top of her hair covering.
"The bad men."
"Want to talk about it?"
He held out his hand to her, and she clasped it, her warm fingers curling around his index finger. They walked over to an overstuffed couch that he loved to nap on. It faced the window, and they both looked at the breathtaking view. They were on top of the world.
"Who are the bad men in your dream?" he asked.
"Back home… the ones who tried to kill us."
N'Jadaka's eyebrows met in the middle of his forehead, and his jaw tightened.
"You remember that?"
"I remember everything. That white man took me from my bed and Mama came to get me. I was so scared Baba. He put his gun right here…."
She pointed to the side of her chest.
"Then you came and got us away. They shot Mama, and then… you went away. You said we were going to play Hide 'n Seek, but you never came back to get us. I saw you go back to the sand. We swam away and waited for you on top of a hill."
Sydette's forehead creased.
"Them say you died, but I didn't believe it. You always came back. You were always there."
N'Jadaka put an arm around her, and she leaned into his side.
"You came back in my dream. The bad men went away… they walked into the bushes and you chased them. I woke up, and it scared me. I don't want them to come back."
"They won't come back. I promise," he said.
"Sometimes at our house, I have bad dreams that the men come out of the lake and take Mama and Dumplin away. But you can't save them."
He kissed the top of her head.
"Do you have these nightmares a lot?"
"No. Just sometimes."
"You remember a lot from way back then."
"I used to make you laugh when I played on the grass, or when I chased Jerome. I scared you and Mama one time when you couldn't find me. Remember?"
N'Jadaka stared at her. Did Sydette have a photographic memory? Although he had a classmate at M.I.T. that disproved the actual phenomena, claiming the ability was far too rare to be almost non-existent in how laymen thought it was used. Sydette retained a lot of details that she should've been too young to recall.
She hugged his waist.
"The dragon slayers in the movie came out of the lake by our house, and then I went to sleep," she said.
"The movie made you have the dream then, huh?"
"I guess so."
"You are here safe and sound with me, okay?"
She nodded, but wouldn't remove her head from his chest.
"Will the white people come here, Baba?"
"What white people?"
"The ones like back home who shot Mama. I heard on the news yesterday that a lot of them are coming here because they want what we have."
"There are some white people from different nations coming here to talk to me. It's their first meeting in Wakanda. My job is to let them know they can't have what we have."
"Look, but don't touch… like you tell us in your house," she giggled.
"Something like that, Sweet Pea. There are many people in the world, not just white ones, who want everything Wakanda has. There are bad people among them and there are greedy people too."
"Mama said you'll check them."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah… she said nobody messes with you. I wish she would come back to the palace and live here again. We can be with you, and she wouldn't have to worry about anything."
"She worries about stuff?"
"Sometimes she watches the news back home, or talks to Auntie there and she sits in her room by herself. Then she goes to work. When she comes home, she reads and writes, and then checks our language lessons. If she were here, she wouldn't have to work so hard and worry about us, too. She wants us to speak perfect Wakandan, and practice our manners all the time."
"I see—"
"Plus, she practices her speech for the conference every night. I almost know it by heart."
N'Jadaka glanced over at the window. Yani was putting in overtime like everyone else to make his event a success for the country. Living so far away from the golden city had become a burden for her.
"I'll talk to your Mama about staying here for the conference, okay?"
Sydette nodded her head against his side.
"Think you can go back to bed now?"
"Can we sit here longer?" she asked.
His daughter needed him more. So did his son. Joba was fortunate to live there close to him and saw him every day in person. It helped that Disa worked in the West Palace because she could leave and see his youngest whenever she wanted as her own boss. Yani was still under the supervision of senior doctors and couldn't leave whenever she wanted to check in on her children physically. She thrived in her work, but the logistics of juggling two heirs by herself so far away was a struggle, even with a nanny and household staff to help.
N'Jadaka rubbed his forehead, then listened to Sydette's relaxed breathing. Yani was a proud woman. She raised a baby and juggled three jobs in St. Thomas. Approaching her with the idea of coming back to the palace would be a delicate task. He didn't want her to feel like she wasn't handling her career and motherhood. She clearly knew how to do that. There was nothing to prove to anyone about that. He also didn't want her to think it was a ploy to get her next to him after confessing his feelings about reconciliation. Perhaps Dante could mention returning to her. No… that wouldn't work either. She'd think it was a set-up. Twyla and Marisol would raise her suspicions. He didn't want to bother Disa.
Ramonda?
His aunt loved the children and maybe she could suggest having Yani come back for the conference. Ramonda headed a greeting committee and would probably need extra help for the Diaspora Ball.
"I'll figure it out, Sweet Pea," he whispered as she snoozed.
Everything started with Sydette.
Yani's beauty was an attraction, but it was the fat baby on his bed that opened his eyes to her. The joy he was able to capture again by loving someone with his whole heart began with the little girl lying against his chest. No matter what size she grew, Sweet Pea was always going to want to be with her Baba. She claimed him first with her drool and dimples, forcing him and Yani to acquiesce by falling in love. Sydette broke open a hardened muscle that closed off feelings and gave him love freely… unconditionally. The moment he picked her chunky body up, she was his.
If nightmares bothered Sydette's sleep because she was away from him, and if her mother worked too hard, he had to make it better for them. He was the damn king, after all. There was nothing stopping him from waltzing into the hospital and telling the senior staff to let his woman work less—
"Nigga, what is you doin' thinking you can dictate work hours for a hospital?" he muttered to himself.
Sydette was an observant child. She knew her mother well. Did he put too much on Yani's plate for the diaspora conference? Were his expectations too high for someone just at the beginning of their medical career?
He tapped his right foot methodically.
The nanny found them still asleep on the couch early in the morning.
"Shall I put Princess Sydette in your bed?" Osilee asked.
N'Jadaka rubbed his eyes and handed his daughter to Osilee.
"I will have breakfast brought up from the palace kitchen so you can sleep in, King N'Jadaka," Osilee said.
"Thank you, Osilee. I'm going to stay down here and read. I'll take a nap later today."
Osilee slipped away quietly with his daughter's face nuzzled against her neck. He walked to his home office and read briefings at his desk. An hour in, he stopped and pulled up images of old news reports from the New York Times and The Washington Observer that had interviews with King T'Chaka. Something stuck in his craw about the man, and the articles he read were from twenty-five years previous. He stroked his left temple and stared at pictures of the dead king. T'Chaka had been a staunch isolationist. Killed his own brother to keep their vibranium and secrets to themselves. What made a cold-hearted bastard turn into a bastion of goodness, uniting other countries together so many years later? What did he gain from becoming the phony Martin Luther King Jr. of Africa?
A flash of an image came to him. Being on board a Wakandan battle cruiser with his parents and fleeing the warcraft because T'Chaka was on his way to check for the Atlanteans.
Another memory crackled in his brain. Sitting in Disa's house in Massachusetts at a dinner party and watching military helicopters destroyed on the news over the Atlantic. His scalp tingled as a final memory seared his brain. An attack on his military base in San Diego and him pulling out the bodies of fellow soldiers in the rubble and blood. T'Chaka had visited the Coronado facility and even walked past a young Navy Seal named Erik Stevens.
N'Jadaka shot up from his chair and gulped air.
King T'Chaka knew the Atlanteans! He knew how powerful they were if they could elude the surface dwellers as the Wakandans did for centuries. Did T'Challa's father fear them? Is that why he started the kumbaya tour with the outside world because he knew he'd need allies to face an enemy from the sea? For almost fifteen years, there had been no disruptions or attacks against any nation again. America recovered from its naval bases being blown apart. Rumors had swelled that it was the Russians in cahoots with Hydra and not some unseen enemy that attacked the U.S. coasts back then.
N'Jadaka's heart thudded in his chest and he clenched and unclenched his hands.
When he walked through his preparations for the transition of power months back, neither T'Challa, the Council of Elders, nor his own grandfather had mentioned Atlanteans. It had to be another secret T'Chaka had been hiding. N'Jadaka shocked himself for not even questioning Yoneli or Sizani about that time when he met up with them again in Wakanda. A part of him wanted to toss up the blocked thoughts to just the wild ride of waking up to a new life.
He tapped his kimoyo beads as he went to his private dressing room where he kept all of his clothes and accessories. A disheveled Tlotliso stared at him with sleep in her eyes.
"Tlotliso, I need you to come into the office right now. I'll be there in two hours," he said into his kimoyo. "Contact Captain Yoneli Majola and Lt. Sizani B'Lan. Tell them to come there right away."
N'Jadaka undressed from his nightwear and tossed on dark royal robes.
There were more history lessons to learn about the night his family fled from the Atlantic Ocean. What was going down in the deep waters?
