GUARDIANS OF THE WATER
Chapter 6
When Shuri reached maturity, the month after her first menses, she was taken to a secret village deep in the bush where she was placed in a hut with twenty other girls. Some were tall and strong and already appeared built like mothers. Others were small and lean and still walked and moved like children, like Shuri herself. They left their regular clothes at home, bathed in the Nile, and when they emerged, they were given bark cloth and told to paint themselves with clay. They carefully painted designs over each other until they were hardly recognizable from each other. Then, their heads were shaved and their scalps were painted like the Dora Milaje. For seven days and seven nights, they ate ujii and they were taught the stories only known to the women of Wakanda. Mothers who had seen their grandchildren to adulthood came and taught them how to live as women.
Then, they were each scarred with a heated needled, their names were engraved in their forearms, showing they were now women. Until the day they gave birth, they were considered in the same categories as the warriors and Dora Milaje - no longer children but not yet a full member of the community.
Then, they washed in the Nile until their clay designs were part of the green and white waters. Then, they were given new clothes and they returned home to their families. They only spoke of that week again in quiet whispers, when they were far out of ear shot of their fathers and brothers. It was a secret, and one only they shared.
On the day they gave birth, they would receive their next marking, shave their heads again, wash in the Nile, and return a full-fledged member of the community. Only after they became mothers, proving they were tied to Wakanda both by their past and their future, would they be able to speak in community gatherings or have a voice in village politics.
From birth to death, water was life and without water, Wakanda would cease to exist.
Sir Winston Churchill travelled to Uganda, in the years before he became the Prime Minister of the United Kingdom. He was greatly impressed by the beauty of the people, the land, the life within. Nothing quite compared to the birthplace of the Nile. There, in Jinja, where the waters of Lake Victoria join with waters bubbling up from springs deep within the earth and the headwaters of the White Nile are born.
Sir Winston Churchill was in awe. First, he first spoke of the Nile's might and glory and then, in the very next breath, he described his dreams to 'harness the whole river' and build a dam at the source. He saw the mighty rapids and falls and determined to conquer them, tame them, harness them.
True to his prediction, Ripon Falls was eventually dammed. In a show of both technological power and political power, the power of the Nile was tamed and harvested under the direction of its British colonial masters.
Yet, the British did not understand that the meeting place of the waters was also the dwelling places of the spirits. Or, perhaps they did understand, and that is why they chose to dam the Nile. It was not enough to tame the waters, the spirits themselves had to submit to European rule.
It was not only the people who must be conquered, but their spirits, their gods, their ways of life. The Europeans came with their woolen suits, insisting they must be worn on the equator. They came with their heavy pipe organs, and said the traditional drums would not please their deity. The Europeans came and spoke of a God they had known, who had revealed Himself to them in their language, in their ways. As if the Creator had no African face, as if the peoples they met did not know His many names. As if His coming could not be declared with ululation and dance and the sacred drums.
When the East African Revival came, when the waters of the Spirit of the God the Europeans claimed to worship were poured out on the peoples of Western Uganda – both European and African alike, the missionaries could not understand it. How could the Holy Spirit fall upon Africans? Yet, the waters poured out, divisions were washed away, and new voices rose to speak to the rest of the world.
It was far too easy to fall into the deception of the "ethnocentrism of isolation." A people could continue believing themselves the one true band of humans, the only "real" people, as long as they were never challenged by the existence of anybody else. Wakanda, when kept aloof and separate from the rest of the nations around it, could remain convinced of their own superiority. However, if their secrets were ever exposed, how long could they last against the combined forces of the rest of the world? Talokan believed themselves the true lords and masters of the planet, those entitled to rule and determine the fates of all the others. Yet, how many other aquatic humanoids existed to challenge their claim?
Namor was convinced of his greatness, of the greatness of his people. There was absolutely no way Shuri could convince him that any of the earth-bound humanoids on land could compare.
When the British explorer, Henry Morton Stanley, toured East Africa, he saw for himself the greatness and grandeur of the kingdom of Buganda. He was suitably impressed by the kingdom's organization and deemed them as the vessels to bring "civilization" to the region. During his time in the kingdom, he was informed by its monarch that they believed themselves the greatest kingdom on earth. As a loyal citizen of Queen Victoria's expanding empire, Stanley did his best to inform the king of Buganda of his error. Buganda could not be the greatest monarchy on Earth because that honor belonged only to his home country of Great Britain.
If both the kingdoms believed themselves the greatest power on the planet, then there was only one possible solution. Muteesa I, ruler of the Kingdom of Buganda, immediately wrote a letter proposing marriage to Queen Victoria.
Shuri was never sure how many years had passed when the change happened. She tried to count the yearly festivals and keep track of dates from the bits of newspaper clippings Namor shared with her, but all she knew was that it was somewhere between eight and ten years into her captivity when Namor's strategy shifted.
At their weekly dinner, he filled the air of his cavern with all his usual charm and the abundance of eloquence unique only to himself. However, there was something different in his manner, in his approach, in the way his eyes watched her. By the time they had finished their roasted chicken, he drew closer to her than she was comfortable with, his hand resting on her forearm as his eyes roamed from her face to her abalone-embroidered dress.
"Princess, why should we quarrel? We are not so different, you and I. We, each of us, have known what it is to be great and what it is to be alone. Who among the nations can understand the secrets we bear or the power at our fingertips? Which ruler among the peoples has such a weight of ages to shoulder? Why should you remain as my prisoner when you could become so much more?"
"What are you saying?" Shuri asked, each and every sense in her body tingling with warning. She could not look away from the intensity of his dark eyes, though every part of her mind warned her to run.
"Marry me. Rule Talokan by my side as my queen. Bear children who can bridge both our worlds and bring peace between our peoples," he said, his hand moving from her forearm to rest on her cheek. At her gasp of surprise, he leaned forward and placed his forehead against hers. The smell of the ocean permeated around her and his skin was both overly warm and sticky from salt. She pulled back as if stung by a jellyfish.
"You do not need to answer me today," he said, "I have lived hundreds of years and will live hundreds of years more. I can be patient."
Then he sent her back to her cave, back to her captivity, and left her to the never-ending rhythms of tides and currents that undergirded her existence.
Oh, she felt keenly the honey-sweet promises his offer dangled before her. The offer of power to one so long without was tantalizing. The allure of companionship and an end to her isolation, the possibility of her own place and family to one so long trapped between worlds, it was nearly more than she could bear.
Yet, it was as poisoned meat thrown before a starving lion. She knew if she bit, it would kill her in the end.
Namor was a creature without a discernible end. How many generations would he outlive her? If she surrendered, how many lifetimes would her own children remain after Shuri and her people were gone?
Shuri thought of the stories of the beginning of the kingdom of Bunyoro-Kitara. The stories told how a divine race, the Cwezi, a people with superhuman abilities and knowledge, settled in the Great Lakes. When they came from the heaves and intermixed with the peoples in the region, they began a new dynasty of kings.
They told a story about a man who usurped the throne and set himself up as king. He knew he was an interloper and this made him afraid. One day, a wise seer came to him and informed him that his own daughter's son would kill him. His grandson would take over the kingdom as his own. The usurping king feared even more. He did all in his power to prevent this prophesied birth. He went so far as to imprison his daughter and keep her locked away from the outside world.
Yet, the king could not stop the prophecy. A son of the lord of the underworld found the imprisoned princess and he loved her. He left her with child. The evil king was furious when he found out. He tried to kill the child by throwing him into a river. Yet, the gods protected the child and gave him shelter in a cave. The gods fed the child from milk produced by the cave itself, and kept him alive until he was an adult. Then, true to prophecy, the child killed his grandfather, took over the kingdom as its rightful king and started the kingdom of Bunyoro-Kitara.
Around the time of his reign, the divine Cwezi were said to have vanished from the region by sinking into the waters of the lakes. Despite their disappearance, their spirits remained in the rocks and trees of the land they once ruled, acting as mediums between the human world and the divine.
Shuri grew up surrounded by living legends and superhuman relatives. The heart-shaped herb made her brother into something her ancestors would have worshipped, something beyond what was natural and within the bounds of human possibility.
She wished she had a prophecy over her birth simply so she would know more of what to expect. Wasn't it the lot of royalty to face all the worse possible ends?
Shuri knew she could not marry Namor. She also knew her refusal would displease him. Yet, she only had so many options before her.
Either Shuri would die in Talokan, or she would not. To leave Talokan, either Namor would voluntarily release her or she would escape. If she escaped, all her captivity would be in vain for Namor would consider their tentative truce invalid and he would attack Wakanda. Thus, Shuri's options were either to spend the last of her waking days in Talokan, or wait for Namor to release her.
She rather suspected the former would occur first.
When they met for dinner next, Namor walked with all the confidence of a man who was sure of his acceptance. He spoke to her as if she had already agreed to his terms. Shuri did not permit him to speak first. Instead, she faced him with her head held high.
"Namor, I will not marry you," she said, causing him to stop in his steps. His easy confidence melted into a brewing temper and his brow furrowed.
"Why not?"
"Because I am your captive. The marriage between a captive and her captor cannot be recognized as valid. I am not free to choose my path. I wish to go home, not remain in Talokan. I wish to be queen of Wakanda, not Talokan," she answered. Then she braced herself for his reaction.
Oooooo
Sir Winston Churchill and the Nile-he wrote about this in his book "My African Journey," published in 1908.
"Ethnocentrism of isolation" is a term coined by anthropologist Audrey Richards.