Divided we Stand, United we Fall

I do not know if I was dreaming, it was like I was somewhere which, I knew not where. In my dream, I began to ponder, "where am I" but that was quite obvious I was in oblivion or limbo or whatever you choose to call it. It was neither dark nor light and as odd as it sounds I could not describe where I was (don't you just hate it when that happens? stupid dream).

I thought this was one of those dreams which you realize you are dreaming and wake up at will, unfortunately for me, this was not it but was this all in my head, the concept of nothingness, or, was I here. "of course, this is all in your head but that does not stop it from being real, honey" said a female voice and though I had not seen the face I could tell there was a sarcastic expression on the face the voice belonged to. 

"The lost Bantu Kufu returns," said the woman. "Who and where are you, and why am I here", I demanded. "Oh… Little Apostle… You so cute" she said in amusement and the next thing I knew she was right in front of me, I gasped and idiotically fell flat on my behind, (Braveheart).

She was an African woman, that was obvious due to her facial features, and her skin complexion was dark which made her extra beautiful (no makeup) she sported dreads, and every time I looked at her, she became even more beautiful which reminded me of Laurin Hill. She possessed beauty that evoked lust which, made her beauty frightening. It evoked fear and inferiority. It was sinister to be as exquisite as she was.

"I expected something else but this is pure…" she said as she laughed at me and I will admit that it was embarrassing. "Take your time," I said flatly, "oh… Ok… wow… Back to business. You need a key and I require a box, so let's trade.", "I don't follow…"," the Scroll of Zayi is in a box, I don't want the scroll I want the box, I shall give you the key and you shall give me the box", said the woman with such emphasis on every morpheme which made me feel literately illiterate.

"Look lady I do not know what you want wit ̶ ", "enh!? oh c'mon love didn't I just tell you what I want. Shall I speak a Twelfth Night for thee to comprehend? And that was a rhetorical question. It's quite simple", she smiled.

"Your mentor and his Apostles have been looking for the Scroll ever since it got lost, again... The good thing love, is that whoever has the box does not know what lies within it and only this key can open it." She said showing me the key, it looked more like a ring to me, a priesthood ring, "the Scroll can be found by the right people but it's in a box and the box is not of African make and that's why it's so difficult to find the Scroll. You see, it over clouds the African aura", said the woman while giving me the key.

"The box ain't African made…", I said while observing the key, "yes, when the time comes, fake your memory and you shall succeed" whispering those last words in my left ear. I was about to ask "who are you?" though she anticipated, "I am Mami"- "Mami Wa ̶", "yes… I am Mami Watta", she said smiling as if she was waiting for a standing ovation. 

This was a lot to process, I was sort of dreaming that I was taking orders from an African spirit and not just any kind but the kind that is notorious for compelling men with her beauty and luring them to death. Just another day at the office.

"You are so cute; did I mention that. When you find the box make your way into Cape Town at a bar in Samora Michelle, it's opposite a public library and if you are asked tell them you are looking for Mami Tchiruwatta" said Mami as she approached and kissed me and that woke me up with a loud buzzing noise. My lips were cold, bittersweet, and uncomfortable. Makela was awake sitting on her bed staring at me oddly.

Makela: I hope you did not wet your shorts [giggling]

Jk: what are you talking about?

Makela: you seemed to enjoy yourself I did not want to disturb you [still giggling]

Jk: whatever.

Makela: who were you doing it with?

Jk: I was not going to tell you but since you want to know. Mami Watta.

Makela: [speechless]

Jk: that's the first. Let's get ready we got loads to do today.

About twenty minutes later we left our chamber for the training ground. There was a note on the left wall written in bold red ink "you can only change your surroundings when you change Self" and as soon as we finished reading it the red ink faded and another appeared, "you have come to the end of your yesterday from henceforth you beginning your today as of this moment". This was too much Shakespeare for me, I looked around and Jacob appeared out of nowhere, "a year has gone by… a year of hardship. What you have acquired through this period took some of my finest Disciples thrice as long to acquire though, being an Apostle is not about speed rather about time, it's about quality rather than quantity, an Apostle spends his whole life learning, acquiring new knowledge, and skills. Your final task before journeying to the open world will be to defend the Temple", said Jacob expressionlessly.

Makela: defend the Temple? against who?

Jacob: the lot have left for a short trip to a neighbouring town, after four hours they shall receive news that Bongo Bonang is under enemy control, and by that time you shall be ready to defend this Temple.

Jk: from who?

Jacob: from the very same people who will come to rescue it.

Makela: you are testing us!

Jacob: this is how we graduate. Now if I were you I would start preparing. You know, it's the first time two Disciples have to defend an Apostle Temple against… What?   Five hundred… Well, good luck.

And just like that, he was gone, man, I have to learn how to do that appearing and disappearing act. Defend the Temple from its Disciples, this was more of a psychological war than a physical one. My mind went on autopilot as I began to observe and tinker with the tools we were given. The dream I had disturbed me, I felt the priesthood ring key on my middle finger though how would I obtain it, where would I start and why would Mami give me a key that I could only possess while unconscious.

Makela: Oh My Gosh! How are we to fight five hundred affronted Disciples who have been in training longer than us.

Jk: chill, I've got an idea. 

Makela: you do?

Jk:  yes, I do… Look this is a psychological war, they will come here believing that this place is under siege and we have to defend the Temple.

Makela: we are two! Can you count!?

Jk: like I said, chill. Look, these are reflectors, barrels of gun powder, teargas…

Makela: teargas!?

Jk: a special type of teargas, the Disciples expect an army so let's give them one.

Makela: okay?

Jk: you have your sceptre, haven't you? [Makela nodded]. This is what we are going to do…

If it was not for Makela and her sorcery I doubt that we would have finished before time, she had dug a square frame hole twelve meters deep and twenty-five meters wide in a distance of a hundred meters on either side of the main entrance gate and like I said this was close to impossible to accomplish with limited time without sorcery. Ta-hawa was completely warned out from magic digging, she was beginning to look green. 

We lined the reflectors on the edges of the inner skirt of the square, added water with a mixture of "teargas" and a little something I'm not going to mention. The liquid mixture occupied at least three meters of the hole's depth. Ta-hawa produced wind from her sceptre to send gas vapour to the Disciples' direction. I and Makela got suited in black combat robes with our faces masked.

Only five minutes remained, we walked outside the temple to the entrance gate, it was the first time after almost a year that I walked out of Temple Bongo Bonang (I felt like a jailbird).  Technically speaking, well writing (you get the point) we were out of the entrance gate earlier but this felt different somehow. Standing there felt like everything I've done all my life came to that one point, that one moment that would play the role of life decider, the feeling of trepidation. If this plan worked, I promised to give credit to General Hannibal.

I saw dark objects moving towards us on the horizon, it was not long after that I heard roars of people shouting madly, and like I predicted the Disciples under the gas influence would forget part of their training. We were surrounded by at least five hundred angry intoxicated Disciples and they had noticed that we were only two, well, one and a half because Makela was losing strength from keeping the trap together. I whispered to her "any moment now". "assemble!" Cried a Disciple and the lot ran to towards us.

Jk: 5… [they were gaining speed]

Makela: 4 [they'd reached the trap zone]

Jk: 3 [the Disciples from the flank had reached the centre trap zone]

Makela: 2 [I thought I saw one of the Disciples dressed like Mel Gibson on the movie Brave Heart]

Jk: 1 [BOOM…BOOM…POW!]

If I Had to give a percentage, about eighty-nine per cent of five hundred Disciples were submerged and trapped not only by the depth of the hole but by teargas which caused them to hallucinate. The remaining few were flabbergasted by how 2 supposed enemies turned into a thousand armed with spears and bows to the ready. 

The third chemical in the liquid mixed evoked fear and panic (that's why we were masked).

There isn't much you can do when you are overwhelmed by an enemy and by your fear, it made me understand why African leaders and their counterparts beyond the African border do what they do. Dictatorship is due to fear of inferiority and not power, things like HIV, Ebola, COVID-19, and Poverty are assets and means used to victimize the threat.

"Retreat" cried a Disciple and due to that imposed fear they retreated which also reminded me of the many times the victimised threat had to retreat due to imposed fear. If those Disciples looked beyond their fear, they would have defeated us by number but as the saying goes; fear bores tyrants, and heroes are born from the fear tyrants impose on the masses. 

We walked back to Temple Bongo Bonang, we did no high-five or whatever you do when you have done something worth being happy about for we truly felt like perpetrators. General Hannibal was a genius in the Art of War. That very fear that ignites heroes, soldiers, leaders and a revolution is what we turned into a fear of retreat, a fear that conditions the victim to succumb to tyranny.

I and an extremely exhausted Makela walked to the training ground which felt longer than before, moments later Makela nearly fell to the ground lucky for her I caught her before impact. I carried her, slowly, her weight had not bothered me. I had denied the Disciples something that was theirs, something worth fighting for, I took their home and pride which made me feel like a colonizer, a slave owner, a KKK militant (Bongo Bonang Chapter), and like the sick twisted bureaucrats who scheme, plot and waste millions of dollars to ensure that Africa is a continent that moves backwards.

This self-detest was tearing me apart, I had not realized where I was until Makela whispered "stop… Training Ground", how would I live with myself after today, I thought to myself. We were sitting on the floor, Makela placed her head on my chest and I held her… We looked like a young couple who had just lost their first child.

Makela: the effects will wear off within an hour or less.

Jk: oh… Okay.

Makela: what's on your mind?

Jk: same as yours.

Makela: where did you learn that?

Jk: I have no idea, it's like that time I performed the Adrenaline Manoeuvre.

Makela: it's in your blood. You are an Apostle by blood.

Jk: thanks…. I'm a potential evil murdering mastermind by blood.

Jacob: not actually, mastermind yes, but not an evil murderer [this time instead of appearing out of thin air he walked into view]

Jk: you think. [neither a question nor statement]

Jacob: I know. Winning was not the objective.

Makela: what was? [she attempted standing up yet to no avail.com]

Jacob: at what point are you willing to go to defend what is yours and what you do after shall define who you truly are. [he gestured for Makela to remain sitted]

Makela: really! Well, I don't feel well… What will happen to them…?

Jacob: they failed, an Apostle is not a question of quantity rather a question of quality. Two Disciples, one year of training took down five hundred Disciples who have been here ever since they could walk.

I do not recall my body leaving the training ground for the chambers. I do not recall lying in bed. I do not recall sleeping nor do I recall waking up. What was this state? Self-imposed depression and as you read this, at this very moment I do not know if there will come a time where I have to cause such catastrophic pandemonium. 

"An Apostle is a guardian", says Jacob. Really? An Apostle can single handily take down a US Navy Seal base, if Apostles had crossed paths with the Spartan king Leonidas, I wonder if the 300 would have died as martyrs.  

I slept for like ten minutes and it was all of a sudden eight o'clock in the morning, for about fifteen seconds I could not move my body, sleep paralysis. I hate when that happens and I guess it could get me killed now that I was an Apostle. The life of an Apostle, every second may be your last. My partner in crime was still green, sorcery must have been serious business, I pondered. 

After getting ready we stood silently looking at Our Chamber, my side of the chamber was filled with Black and white posters of Black Heroes: Malcolm X, Muhammad Ali, Martin Luther King Jr. Patrice Lumumba, Huey Newton, Bob Marley, Sheik Anta Diop, Chinua Achebe, Denzel Washington (My Nigga!), a June 16 Poster, Fidel Castro, Che Guevara, Jonas Savimbi and Benjamin Carson.  My side of the chamber was a tribute to Black Heroes and it felt real, unlike the Super Heroes who only exist in myths.

Makela's side of the chamber was covered with People I did not know though I noticed some celebrities, there was Ice Prince, Tiwa Savage, Pro Kid, Sarkodie, and 2 Face.

Makela: do you see the poster on the far right?

Jk: yeah

Makela: that's his majesty, King Kufu. See the poster next to it, that's his wife. They both led one of the strongest armies during the War Age.

Jk: War Age?

Makela: yeah, a time when absolute peace was only found in dictionaries. 

Jk: how long did it last?

Makela: quite long though it all ended in the year 2000, though scholars argue that it ended before that year since the Battle of Soweto occurred in Kemet.

Jk: how did you people develop during this period?

Makela: were the Disciples able to penetrate the Temple?

Jk: no…

Makela: and everyone fulfilled their duties as usual within the Temple, that's how. There's a name for all the armies, Guardians of Kemet. Anyway, on the far left is King Nzinga and his wife, the centre bottom is the Abi-Na-Zoyo Family and the-

Jk: all these people are war heroes… Any peacemakers?

Makela: there are but they are not for my wall.

Jk: The Nzinga, are they Heru's family?

Makela: yes… I'm sure you have noticed. The Kemet Kongo are disciplined and warlike similar to their Alkebulan counterpart though not as forgiving and as merciful.

Jk: The Kongo seem to be influential.

Makela: obviously… War and intelligence though other tribes contribute to Kemet like the North Wester kammatu that's like from Ghana to Senegal you will find the finest Anthropologists, Historians, fashion designers, actors. Eastern Kammatu has by far the finest Educators, authors, musicians, etc. You get the point. 

 Jk: yeah, you a Mukongo Kammatu … You are warlike [laughing for the first time since Defending the Temple] I get your point. Let's go.