1 Prologue.

He who feeds on the golden eggs and savors the taste of the yolks there in, forgets the agony of the mother hen who'd spawn them in her cloaca.

From— secret journals of the Lopadans. The year before the first republic of Chakia, till date.

They both agreed mutually as she came out of the kitchen with some food to feed her.

"You would let me tell you a story right after you're done with your meal and drugs: right, niece? It will be helpful in putting you into a mood of sleep." Said Akalia, with a calm hypnotizing voice.

Her niece didn't debunked her idea.

She made a quick adjustments and sat calmly at the edge of the bed.

For some minutes after she'd fed her niece. Akalia held her breath in a long streams of thoughts, and begun with a dimmed voice to narrate.

"Long before the discovery of space," she paused as though it was an illusion, staring at the sullen face of her niece— as she laid ill in her sick bed.

The niece was weak physically and emotionally drained as she could hardly speak.

Akalia continued...

"The springs of imperial dominations had arrived the shores of Africa- in the days of Jadahkina— my grandfather, who happened at that time to be your great grandfather."

"Great grandfather! Before space?" Asked the young woman inquisitively.

She cackled at the same time with a quake bemused smile— forced down the two sides of her thin lips.

"Yes!... You see, our people had their former ways of life— and countless daily rituals were a perfect session to maintain their spirituality.

As you can see, I am still basking in good health— despite my age aren't you surprised?"

Akalia grin, chewing the few greens in her mouth and continued.

"It was a rich culture before the white people came and changed the narrative."

"Waouh!..." With her eyes widening out.

Waouh!... Even this attractive shape that you possessed!?"

Exclaimed the ill woman shakily in pains— who nobody believed including herself and Akalia, that she would not breathe life into her lungs for too many days on earth.

"Damn right!" Said Akalia.

"They took a good chunk of our land, our heritage, our lifestyle, and split the empires for the reign of Europe."

Her eyes were filled up— instantly with springs of water even as she tried to nurse her niece back to health. She wiped her tears off and continued.

"I guess, it was all fuelled by human civilizations— everywhere..." Akalia said. "...and the taste for resources and explorations.

In the era, life was full of pains but quite minimal... compared to several kinds of crisis and intolerance that we're all suffering today.

The colonists were happy that they'd found a beautiful and a blazing succor with good environment to control.

To dwell in a land that would be sweet to explore and to study the depth of the black culture; and to open our eyes to another world.

But what the white people had sniffed afterwards— would leave a permanent whiff of a land that smells with many deposits of riches.

Soon our land was in the brink of collapse after that they'd found it real treasures that no one yet knew of.

Many of our peoples had joined them to become our own oppressors.

Grief and pains consumed our hearts each day.

We'd sharpened our hands in the furnace with labour, and got our hearts prepared to embrace war with the white man that had came to steal our treasures.

So was the story that span centuries, told of a man that was my great-grandfather, who told my grandfather, and then to my father, and then to me.

I have made it an obligation to pass it on as well to you, and to few of those who finds it as a treasured history.

The battles that were fought for many years, led to the death of my great-grandfather and to my grandfather.

My father took it on.

In the era, the battle would repeat itself, over and over again— until the white people had relentlessly gain conquest over our territories through the influence of trade and their religions.

It was after the end of amalgamation of these two protectorates of our peoples, which had been merged into a disproportionate confederation.

If not, the white man had never made peace with our peoples across the land: till date.

Many Kingdoms and Empires and their allies had came in their own peace accord.

As either friends or as our enemies to wage war, or to spy on our land. We found ourselves in the era of ethnic and racial cynicism.

At the end, we waged war with the white man and all those empires who'd suddenly made themselves a friend with our enemies.

We fought with the last drop of our blood— before Chakia could finally be established under the white man's rule.

These peoples had consistently gorged on our land, to expand and to subdue more territories for trade purposes."

And as Akalia frame out these words, you could feel the intensity of rage smeared on her face.

"...And even though their activities had hastened our civilizations, but racial superiority missions had incubated strifes amongst us, and it was maturing into something else that was unpleasant to our own heritage.

It had left an undesired residue of immatured state— with pockets of malevolent mischiefs.

And it was the footprint of a cliché that many had feared so much, like the White Lion Witches; to be voiced publicly.

Soonest the exit of the colonists, had great consequence on Chakia's emerging history and its future densely.

Chakia formally Alampua had a checkered landscapes of a warped western culture that our peoples had absorbed into their inherent cultural system.

Including the two dominant religious versions: that our peoples had poorly acquired.

And afterwards the people had discarded the essence of spiritual cravings. They'd clinged to religion as their hope.

Only these fashion of thought were enough to ruin our customs, create divisions and pattern our style, beliefs and philosophy— to a whole new system of life.

To mention but a few delimer of our ethnic distortions through this system, was the constant civil disorderliness of Chakia's regional coexistence— through communal trade relations, between the major and the minor ethnic groups.

They'd took it in the process, while we handed over our own territories to manage it crudely.

The tribalism and nepotism that now existed is tantamount to the unstable administrative style; and the unequal social justice of our people.

The regions even though they were detribalized, but they weren't free from these microscopic forces.

The total adhering to their ways... was the fact that, what the white people had introduced to us as superior life patterns.... had done harm than good to our coexistence.

Obviously, the cohesive force was weaker than our diversities now.

Non-the less, the physical presence of the colonists had declined over time in Chakia. And by implication, it had eroded its memories in many human hegemonies.

But the effects had stirred the land of Chakia with constant threats of secession— even a near turbulence and arnarchy, during the urgency for civil and political reforms as the people had gradually increased in size and were awared of many forces who controls the affairs of the state.

Though the effects on Chakia were not immediately felt. But the protracted frictions had revealed the weakest disharmonious links between our peoples— even as the regions gradually expands and grow with uncoordinated policies.

It was even beyond the wildest imaginations of the colonists.

Decades pass— after the reigns of the colonial rule. But Chakia's is still faced with a perilous times ahead.

The government was still required to work with the imperial economic policies that were drawn for their own purposes.

Chakia's total independence had been undermined by these system, which most critical thinkers, thinks it'd been a scheme; perhaps the reason why Chakia had not fully attain its economic sovereignty: with such ties that would normally demeans it, instead of bonding the splints.

It is said, that right after the exits of the imperial powers. Just few years after the first republic. Life had grew gradually in the ambit of savage dictators.

Their regime although did not last.

But it did a great damage in tolerating the prehistoric corrupt excesses— by public officials.

The flaws in the junta's constituted laws of the land were quickly designated arbitrarily without wide consultations.

And the powers assigned to smaller regions were deracinated, to be able to theme those who will not abhor the council of dictators of the State.

That era, to spur-off-the-moment. The regime activities... amplified agitations— of the civil right movements of many ethnic factions and social groups... to form unnecessary alliances.

To top it up, this period. An iconic music activist was tortured for his prophetic messages by the juntas, and his mother been thrown off the balcony of a four storey building.

She died in the spot as a result.

Many springs of fetish aura came to limelights under one emblem at this era and perpetuated evil in the land for the purpose of money.

But themselves were swollen with vain pride and we're destroyed by internal divisions that'd corrupted them.

Peoples were been filled with ethnic sentiments and ego of their origins: in an heterogenic state. It further increased the moral and social decadence.

And the imperial policies fuelled by the juntas would then leverage a control— through the excesses of the Lopadans.

The few ideas that'd maintained the state of Chakia, were only but shreds of fabrics, weaved with many dark colours. And with every struggle for peace, the air had been stale with civil unrests."

Akalia stood up beside the edge of the bed, looking at the ill face of her niece, almost falling asleep.

She continued...,

"...It is said or have been known for centuries, that the land was fertile beyond all dreams. The people were industrious, wise, and very kind toward another. They were even beautiful souls that we called boys and girls— everywhere in Chakia."

The stream of consciousness continued to hover on Akalia's head. Some of pleasant places, while many flowed in with sad overtone.

"Thus, we accepted our fate, at this time when our peoples had embraced peace, and allowed the colonists to dwell amongst us.

The land that'd sheltered the black race would be dominated for several years with pains.

Many of our peoples in different regions were bought with cheap things, even as little as a piece of a mirror items— that the white man had brought from across the seas.

There, they'll work very hard as ignorant slaves in the white man's fields and look after their children, feed the aged ones, and do the house chores for rest of their days.

Our productive lives were lost. We'd longed to exchange our people for the things we never wanted from the white man.

For the spirit of covetousness had possessed the whole land.

Yet the land had plenty of beautiful natural resources in all the biomes.

The huwks, the vultures, and the ravens soaring above the clouds in their pride of places.

The chanting, the singing and the humming birds— go above the trees and the mountains without perching.

While the veins of streams flows endlessly were they got disgorged into the south oceans.

The land was covered with short green grasses that sweeped broad along the north regions, shaded with long sparsely line of tall trees— grown along the river banks and creeks.

These features were impressively attractive to the eyes. It includes the weather over the savannah— that always received the sunny spells in the afternoons, throughout the seasons.

The soil was fertile, lush landscapes, with green arable mountains and rocks that grew tall to the sky.

But the land had been detribalized by the effects of the post-colonial eras.

The people could no more thrive together peaceably, for the sake of crooked power hungry minds that had infiltrated the heart of the State and had sold it off to the vested interest groups.

But the awakenings which spells misfortunes for us, had even the dreaded consequences for our actions.

It'd whiffed in our noses the sufferings we know not. The tip is like an iceberg, had pierced hard into our consciences: to let us know who we are.

Wise counsel had awoken amidst the peculiar dramas of agitations that had bursted into a regional secessions— following the internal wars.

And the message it had brought over to our people: sternly rebuked the audience present in the crowd and said to us all.

"We've all loved our nation, and we may call it giant. But we've never truly embraced ourselves with love. It is a total colossal lost.

If you know you've strayed. Sons and Daughters, retrieve your steps back. You know were you've erred.

We cannot exist without love.

It flows in our bloodstreams? How then do we liberate our nation and our minds taste for peace that we'd never had.

Where do we go from here, without any sacrifice made at the altars of our hearts. To embrace peace and the love that's freely offered to humanity?

What do we do for the sake of our children that seems to had lost their place, and for the damned youths of our land that do not know the reasons for their existence?

How can we stand on our own feet like warriors, and fight on, as real Spartans would do?"

"Amidst all these," said Akalia. "...the crowds had continue to murmur in search of answers.

But the voice did not stop there, "Make haste," the voice said, very loud.

"...and standout like many of your counterpart nations and copy only their good life and their ways if you so wish..."

Suddenly, there followed a deafening silence as the crowd stood tensed and perplexed.

And those in the helm of affairs of the state were threatened and shivered at the voice, as it spoke very loud as of the one in the wilderness.

One would even tremble as though it were a spirit being that'd spoken.

"Listen!..." The voice said.

"... A sober reflection over the state will never stop to caution your steps— towards the negligence of peace over your own land.

Time have been set, and it begins right here at moment of your decision!"

For twelve months and six weeks, Michael had paid a consistent condolence visit to Akalia in her house.

Because of her niece that she has been trying to nurse back to health had died suddenly of leukemia.

She was the last surviving family members of Akalia.

For many years, Michael and Akalia's niece have been best of friends— until death.