War Queen

A long time ago, many years may be a century before I was born, our lands were fertile. Our streets were full of joyful noise coming from the children, cheerful shouts from the men and happy smiles from the elders.

The watering holes bore freshwaters, and our women were delighted to gossip. The men hunted freely in the bushes and brought back big games to eat.

The festivals were colourful and vibrant, mixed with our traditions and what we hoped for in our future. A long-time passed before evil struck its chord.

Caught unawares, we could only look in muted horror as the vibrant green and luscious bushes lost life and were varying shades of dead brown. The games no longer grazed near our settlement.

The watering holes no longer bore freshwater but dirty and murky undrinkable water. Everything was coming apart and undone, and we were confused.

We didn't know where to turn or who to look to for help. Everyone we knew was facing the same problem as us. We were at war, not with our fellow humans but with nature. Nature and our gods had turned their backs on us and washed their hands off our case. We were left to our own devices, and we could not survive.

Until a warrior princess came, she challenged the gods and made them furious, but I wonder if she won the fight…

Our village was one of the fore-founding ones at the time. We had given birth to so many settlements and colonies, and we continued to increase with time. Our relationship with others and nature was excellent and beneficial. We scratched each other's backs, and at the same time, there was no war. We lived in peace and good health. Ours was to rest and let nature do its work.

There was no need for fighting or war. We never trained our young ones to fight but rather take what life gives us and give back. It was a win-win situation.

Suppose we worship the gods that protect and guide us. If we continually pay homage to those who fell for us to succeed. That was all we had to do.

The first god was Laiithu. The god of rain. He controlled everything from rain to thunder to lightning. All the storms and floods came from his domain. He was a relatively peaceful one, but his anger knew no boundaries. It was said that to annoy him was a death sentence, one that nobody ever seemed foolish to commit.

He could wipe the whole earth and leave a tree standing. The tales of his deeds of anger were told at night to scare little children into behaving. Laiithu, a peaceful god with a wrong side.

The next one was his female counterpart, the goddess of fire Malaiwu. Malaiwu was never peaceful neither was she filled with rage. Instead, she was unbothered. The laziest goddess ever to be created. But that was because her fire knew no boundaries.

She never knew how to put them out, and they usually claimed lives. Worshipping her seemed like a necessity rather than a duty people would happily perform. The most hated god out there, but she wore it with a smile.

The god of the earth. Surprisingly a male rather than a female, Kiluaroth. He was the male Mother Nature. In charge of the seasons, the ground, the animals. Basically, all life force on the planet. But unlike his other counterparts, Roth could never get angry.

He always saw the good in people, and that was why he was the favourite of all of them. There were many other gods, but these were the big three.

The main ones. We worshipped them each month. Prayed for their guidance and endless love towards us. We never strayed from their direction, so it came as a surprise, a massive shock to us when everything suddenly came crashing down.

It started with a decrease in animals. The giant animals weren't as forthcoming as they used to. It took our hunters longer to find a decent game for us. Instead of the bucks we were used to, we started seeing rabbits more and more. Thinking it was old age worrying them, we sent the youngsters, and the same befell them. We didn't see the usual. Then it was the herbs.

The usual ones weren't where they usually were. We started seeing lots of poisonous ones, and the greens weren't looking as green. They started turning brown. Confusion overtook the village, and we sent words to our brothers and sisters. When they too told us of what was befalling them, that was when we knew something was afoot.

How could the game disappear? And the herbs vanish? We thought that maybe it would all pass, and the land would be purified. But after many moons passed and not a flicker of change, we decided to call our herbalist. By that time, we had seen more hell.

Fire rained from the skies, and no water to quench our thirst. The watering holes had long since dried. The rains fell no more, and we were dying—both from lack of water and food. Sickness befell even those of good health. Strange things that we hadn't seen.

Boils filled with water and colourful substances, the itchiness of our chief's body and the lack of mobility for others. Some speculated that the gods were angry with us, but we didn't know how or why. Hadn't we confirmed their rules and regulations? Hadn't we listened to their every whim?

Every sacrifice, every new festival, and every new thing we had done. And yet, they were angry. It was impossible. We had called on Lukiiyat.

Lukiiyat was the chosen middle man between our worlds. He could communicate with them and us just fine. He lived in a cave just outside the outskirts of our settlement with only animals as his companions. To call on him, we send a messenger hawk, and it delivers us summon.

When he arrived, it was evident that he only brought terrible news. He couldn't hear the gods. They had gone dark on him. Complete silence. It was like some film that was preventing communication. The gods had turned their backs on us. If that was the case, then we were doomed. Entirely and utterly doomed. The gods can't and couldn't forget about us. It was practically impossible.

In all the folklores that we had told, none of them had anything about the gods going radio silent on us. He said that he wasn't sure how, but he would continue trying to reach them. He did tell us that we should expect things to get worse than they already are.

And worse did they get. The abnormalities around us weren't now limited to the forest but were happening in our settlement. Huge cracks in the ground appeared out of nowhere, and the rain wasn't pouring anymore. The fire fell and scorched huts and livestock. People were dying, and things weren't changing for the better.

The leaders of the tribes, thirty-two in number, had a serious meeting. We might have different methods by which we do things, but we primarily worshipped the same gods. None of the herbalists had heard or seen anything that would show the way.

Many moons had passed, a year to be exact, and we had to travel great distances to find a decent game. The portions had decreased, and many mouths had to go days without eating. The situation was dire, and something extensive needed to be done. Yet, even after the ideas were implemented, nothing changed.

A year and months had passed before we received words of great hope and anguish. A small girl sprung out the earth claiming the gods spoke to her, and a message needed to be sent to everybody. Surprised and shocked and a bit sceptic, not a lot of people attended. The people that did visit claimed that they saw things, signs and wonders. Things man couldn't explain and stuff they couldn't unsee.

They saw the truth.

''The gods have turned their backs on you. No longer do they want your sacrifices or offerings. Now they want your end and the eradication of your species. To start afresh is the wish of the gods. Beware that things would only get worse and there is no way to stop it. Beware!!! For this is the end for you.''

And just like that, she disappeared. Lukiiyat threw his cowries immediately, and the same thing happened. He couldn't hear anything. There was no hope for us. We were all doomed. At least that was what we thought until one of his beads changed its position. Like a magic trick, they all began rearranging 0themselves until they spelt a new picture. Hope for us.

Apparently, not every god wanted our eradication and one not so powerful god was able to slip from their hold and send a message. We needed a girl, a strong girl who would venture into the world of the gods and fight for us. Get our justice and save us from eradication.

Unfortunately, the girl hadn't been born, and we would have to suffer for a few more years. Then, she would make a mark on her head and immediately after birth would need to be thrown into the black forest. There would she grow and fight the gods and hopefully bring the former age of prosperity that we used to enjoy. Just a few more years…

Five years had passed, people have died, boys and girls have been born and yet not a single girl with the mark. So many had grown tired of waiting and thrown the girls as soon as they were safely removed from their mother's wombs.

But all of them had mysteriously yet safely returned to their mother's sides. Finally, after trying, people gave up and began awaiting their deaths. It seemed that the hope for their futures wouldn't be born anytime soon. Or so they had thought until word travelled that the chief's wife had been taken with the child. A girl, the priestess had proclaimed proudly and what more, she bore the mark.

A great sadness filled our souls. We knew that this one wouldn't be returning to us. She would be taken, and only the heavens would know what would happen to her. We watched and waited with our feet in our mouths. Dreading the day, the baby would be born but happy that the long journey to freeing us and saving the future generation would begin.

When the time of delivery was upon the town, the other chiefs came visiting. The situation was a sad affair. Though many women had thrown their babies into the forest, the knowledge of them coming back was soothing. Still, this little one not coming back was disheartening. With heavy hearts, we welcomed the tears of the saviour.

What should have been a happy and public affair turned sad. As the baby came out, warriors carried her to the forest and dropped her by the edge. It was forbidden to enter unless one wants to meet their maker and ancestors. We all watched as arms reached for her and dragged her to the great unknown. On the grounds, they wrote a name, Nuala, meaning 'war queen.'

Nobody knew what to do but pray even though our prayers won't be answered. We begged for her survival and probably safe return. We just hoped against all the odds that she would be kept secure by those hands that dragged her in. We just prayed that the one who wanted to help would help to protect her.

Nuala, our war princess. May you grow into a queen.

Never forget our love.

Fight for your land.

Fight for our freedom.

Fight for our future.

May you be remembered as a legend. May your stories be told many times. We love you…