GUARDIANS OF THE WATERS
Chapter 8
Kiganda legends told how it was Nyanza, Lake Victoria, itself which granted Mukasa his power. The lake was imbued with spiritual power and thus the islands on the lake were sacred spaces – caught between the sky, land, and waters- and the places where rituals must be held. It was Mukasa who was the greatest of the Balubaale, or guardians, and it was the lake which granted that power.
Mukasa's brother, however, was associated with the sky. Legends told that Kibuuka could fly. The kingdoms of Buganda and Bunyoro were constantly at odds, each warring with the other for prominence over the Great Lakes region in which they dwelt. In their struggles with each other, they sometimes relied upon supernatural assistance to defeat their enemies. Each people had their own deities they called upon and each sought ever more powerful allies.
It was during an era when the Banyoro were dominating the Baganda that they called upon the Balubaale, the intermediaries between the human and spirit world, for assistance. It was Kibuuka, Mukasa's brother, who ultimately answered their call. From his hiding place in the clouds, he rained down spears on the enemy army, bringing them a decisive victory. The army of Buganda defeated their enemies and returned to their camp with prisoners and the spoils of war.
It is at this point in the story that the legends differ. All the tales agree that it was a captive Munyoro woman who proved the undoing of the army of Buganda and their semi-divine guardian. In some tales, she is only an eavesdropping peasant who manages to escape and reveals the hiding place of Kibuuka in the clouds. In other tales, she captures the eye of Kibuuka himself with her great beauty and he unwittingly confesses his hiding place to her, thus leading to his own undoing. Whether peasant or lover, in the end, the Banyoro soldiers know to aim high and search the clouds for their enemy. An arrow strikes Kibuuka in the heart and he dies.
Thus, the 'god of war' was defeated by an unarmed woman and the Baganda lost that war to the Banyoro. Yet, Kibuuka's spirit lived on and he became a guardian of the Baganda from then on.
Shuri noticed the ripples in the pool of water at her feet first. For a time, she thought she imagined it or that they were caused by the movement of aquatic creatures within the water. However, the ripples grew to lapping waves and then the rocks of the cavern beneath her began to vibrate. She held her hands against the rough stones, as if she could read a report of what was happening through their internal movements. When the pebbles by her feet began to shake and tremor, instinctively, she crawled back to shelter herself against the cavern wall, her hands covering her head.
The shaking grew in strength until she feared the rocks overhead would collapse upon her and yet it was the sea itself which coiled and broiled with untamed fervor. The waters within the cavern came alive, lapping against the walls around her with a mounting fury and soaking the floor, walls, and ceilings till every rock dripped with salty rivulets. Shuri clung to a stone to avoid being swept away. Still, the floor beneath her hummed and rolled in an unpredictable pattern and her heart nearly matched its rhythm with her fearful staccato beat.
She was soaked through and shivering by the time a voice called her name.
There, rising from the water, stood a man in unmistakable ebony garb. She knew that suit. She had built it herself. For T'Challa. Yet, this figure stood taller and thinner than her brother. The Panther Habit had been expertly adjusted to fit its new bearer and she knew, without him speaking again, who stood before her.
The voice addressed her again in Kikanda, the language of her people, and he crossed his arms over his chest in salute. Then, he pulled the mask from his face.
She could hardly breathe.
He was a deeper, richer brown than her brother had been and his face bore hints of Nakia in the cheekbones and brows, but those eyes… she would know those eyes anywhere.
"You are T'Challa's son," she managed to gasp out, between shivers.
He nodded respectfully and came to kneel before her. "I am Azari, son of T'Challa. Shangazi, I have come to bring you home."
She reached out one tentative hand to feel the curve of his cheek beneath her fingertips. Just as cautiously, she withdrew her hand again. "I can see him. I can see your father in your face."
He reached out his gloved hand to clasp her trembling digits within his grasp. "Come, Auntie, we must go."
It was at this reminder that Shuri's heart began to clamor against her chest again. She shook her head.
"I cannot!" She protested. "Namor will not allow it… he will attack Wakanda if I leave…"
Azari's face dimpled into a grin so much like T'Challa's that Shuri's heart lurched within her again.
"I would like to see him try," he said. "I do not believe there will be much left of Talokan for him to use to attack Wakanda."
"The vibrations… you are not alone…. Talokan is under attack…," she mused aloud, half in horror and half in wonder as her mind tried to make sense of everything going on around her.
He nodded once. "Nyanya… your mother… made me promise. She said once I became king, my first task was to bring you home."
"But… I cannot!" Shuri said slowly, her mind as tumultuous as the waves still lapping against the walls of the cave. "I promised!"
Even as she said the words, she paused to consider. She had sworn to remain in Talokan forever, rather than allying Wakanda with Talokan in conquest against the rest of the world. Yet, that promise was made when she still could have upheld it… back when she was the successor to the throne, or so she thought. Now, though, she could not ally Wakanda with Talokan, even if she wished to. She was not the ruler of Wakanda. Did that nullify her promise?
She felt the shivers of another explosion rock through the cave and her heart lurched as she thought of the aquatic majesty of the Talokanil cities beneath the waves. How many of their innocent inhabitants were feeling the sting of Wakandan weaponry or the fury of their vengeful soldiers? Would the water run crimson with their blood?
"Stop!" She cried out, reaching out a hand to clasp the king's forearm. "Please, stop attacking Talokan. This will not lead to peace."
"But… They…," Azari began and Shuri reached to take his other arm.
"Please, you must stop this. You have what you came for, let the rest of the Talokanil live…," Shuri pleaded but her words trailed off when she saw a dark shadow rising from the water, a familiar form interrupting the rippling, unsteady surface of the waters. Streams of crimson tainted the water around him and burn marks mottled his armor and the visible patches of skin.
"You again. You are more difficult to kill than a konokono!" Azari muttered. He quickly pulled his mask back over his head and stepped in front of Shuri, his posture crouching into a defensive position.
With an audible groan, Namor pulled himself out of the water and stumbled to his feet. His face was dark with fury and there was a violent glint in his eyes. He lifted his spear and shuffled his feet to face Azari in battle.
"Get back," Azari shouted over his shoulder to Shuri and then he took a step forward.
Shuri froze. She did not hide behind a rock or find cover. Instead, she watched in dawning horror as the pair began to circle each other, weapons directed at each other. All the while, the ripples in the water and vibrations of the cavern told that beyond, more lives were being spilled. Both Wakandan and Talokanil. People were dying.
For Shuri.
If not for Shuri, Wakanda would never have attacked Talokan. She was the prize… and yet she knew Namor's pride. He would not relinquish his captive, even to save himself. She may no longer be useful as a political pawn but she was a symbol of his prowess and power. Even if half his city was torn to rubble, his captive proved he was still in control. He would still have power over Wakanda. He would prove himself the victor.
Thus Namor and Azari would fight each other.
For Shuri.
It was inevitable as the tide and the rising of the sun. Which would prove the victor? Both were supernaturally strong and gifted. Both were kings. Both were too proud to surrender. They would fight and possibly die.
She realized she did not wish to watch either man die. Not for her. Not if she could help it.
The flash of power came from Azari's outstretched hands just as Namor's spear flashed an eerie blue. Shuri did not hesitate but she stepped between them, fulfilling the role she had held the last decade or so, ever since her captivity began. She was always meant to keep them apart and she would fulfill her purpose with her last breath, if needed. The last thing she heard was the sound of her name shouted before she was enveloped in a light so bright it swallowed her.
Then, she knew no more.
Oooooo
It was too bright.
Her eyes blinked with the oppressive heaviness of the light around her. Sunlight poured through an open window, a light breeze teasing the white curtains around the glass slats. She sat upright, nearly knocking into an outstretched hand attempting to hold her in place.
"Shhh, shhhh, shhh. Shuri, stay. All is well. You are home now."
Those were strange words spoken by a familiar voice. Her mother's voice. She did not understand what the voice meant, what the words could mean. She decided it must be a dream. It had to be a dream. Sunlight and Ramonda belonged together, but they only ever existed in Shuri's unconscious mind. This must be one of her good dreams and she would rather not wake yet, if she could help it. She lay back against her pillow, closed her eyes, and slept.
oooooo
The sunlight was gone. She blinked her eyes in disappointment, hoping if she tried again, she would see the sun again. The window was still there, just where she remembered it. Now it was closed and the curtains drawn. Nearby, a pale pink gecko hunted insects and chirped. A gentle hum of frog songs could be heard outside. Then a flash of lights nearby caught her attention.
Machines. There were machines all around her, in her. Tubes and monitors and computers, each bearing the familiar orange lettering of Kikanda script. It reminded Shuri of a hospital room and she shuddered. In a chair beside her, an old woman slept. Her hair was as white as an egret's feathers and cheeks as wrinkled as an elephant's ear. If it wasn't for the royal symbols on the clothes she wore, Shuri might not have recognized her.
"Mama," she choked out, though the word came out more as a whisper than a call. She cleared her throat and tried again. "Mama!"
Ramonda's eyes blinked open and the next moment, Shuri was enveloped in an embrace so fervent, it could have been a vice grip.
"Oh, my baby, my baby!" Ramonda wept, her voice worn with many tears and long years. Shuri was startled by the familiar, yet nearly forgotten, scent of shea butter that always clung to her mother's skin. Her mother's frame shook with her sobs and she refused to release her hold on Shuri's shoulders. Shuri's own tears fell onto her mother's chest as she buried her face against her mother's neck.
"Mama! Oh, Mama am I dreaming?"
"No, binti. You are home now."
"Home? In Wakanda?"
"Yes. Where you belong."
Notes:
I know, I know. I keep saying the next chapter will be the last and then there's still one more yet to come, but really, the next chapter is the epilogue.
Nyanya- both grandmother and tomato. In this context, I am referring to grandmother.
Shangazi-aunt
Binti-daughter
Konokono: snail… East African Giant snails are notoriously difficult to eradicate. These giant hermaphrodites can survive both cold and drought to wreak havoc wherever they have been introduced. They consume everything from crops to concrete…live up to ten years… and grow as large as your fist.
It was not only the Balubaale that were recruited to aid in the conflict between kingdoms. The Muslim, Christian, and Catholic sects were the next to join in the battle for the heart and soul of Uganda. It was the Muslim powers which destroyed Kibuuka's shrine and it was an Anglican missionary who bought Kibuuka's relics and remains from an indebted priest of Kibuuka. These were smuggled out of the country and displayed at a museum in the U.K. until they were returned in 1962.