When The Battlefield Caved In

I knew this could be the last time I would come out of here alive. The sound of battle, weapons and death drew nearer; sounded clearer with every new step I took towards the exit of the cave. My mother had told me tales of how deadly these caves could be. Tales I had swallowed wide eyed, gulping down the terror and fear her shrill shaky tone created. Mother had been the last fighter of the clan- the Hénti. The only surviving offspring of the Hanū; the king. She had been unable to save the clan from a sudden foreign invasion – a cause she had fought so dearly with her strength and her life. A cause she had compulsorily passed on to me– her only offspring, leaving me to deal with my fear, insecurities and fright. The story behind my birth still marvels me till this day whenever I think of it. The day mom had died and handed over the Shengí- the “staff of honour and service” was one I could never forget. It was the day I had turned seventeen. 

Mariama laid her head on her makeshift pillow. Her backpack had turned scruffy after half a dozen days in the cave. She had only been able to pack just a few clothes, a tin of water, some bread, a tin of honey and some milk. 

Ishanku had been invaded by a foreign country across the coast. The aliens had come in quite unexpectedly on a dry Friday night when everyone had retired for the night. A shriek had first been heard from the king’s tent. The palace guards had surprisingly been deep in sleep. The king had been shot dead, with a foreign weapon Mariama later learned– from spying and eavesdropping on the aliens’ conversations from her refuge of the cave– was called a gun. After the king’s execution, the once tranquil island of Ishanku became a complete opposite of itself. Chaos became the order of the day. The foreigners had sophisticated weapons; weapons the Ishankites had never seen before. So, although the natives outnumbered the foreigners, their population was fast decreasing. They only had their knives, spears and other crude weapons their blacksmiths and welders produced.

Ishanku was a very calm isolated island-nation bordered on the West side of the ocean, that had always managed to retain its ambiance of tranquility irrespective of all international activities and unrests. The surrounding hills served as a fence blocking out the rest of the world. All these peaceful attributes had however been possessed prior to the invasion and seized to exist after the aliens arrived. 

I remember asking my mother what it meant to be the “last fighter” of our clan. Mother had smiled that knowing smile of hers before explaining — It was the same smile she gave me when I was just a decade-old and had asked why I had no father and siblings, unlike other children my age. Her smile had gotten deeper when I asked why my grandfather - her father; the king had not remarried after the death of my mother’s mother–the late queen. I was told she had died before my birth. The smile she gave me was an I-know-this-child-quite-too-well-to-know-where-this-inquisitiveness-is-coming-from smile. 

The battle sound was drawing nearer and nearer with each dreaded step. This cave had been safe for her throughout her stay for the past few days. Just like her mother had promised her, with the shengí, the creatures living in the cave understood the importance of her mission and had paved the way for her habitation. The seven spirits of the clan were as well with her. With the shengí firmly clasped in her hand, ready to take dominion over the land; to restore Ishanku’s sanity with the power delegated to her and vested on the staff of authority, Mariama made her way to the exit of the cave. 

The leader of the foreigners signaled the troop to move towards a cave. He was sure he had heard some sound from there although it was the mildest of sounds. From afar, he made out the shape of a person, making his way out of the cave. The leader’s right hand man was about to take a shot from where they all observed from a withered tree shrouded by a hill. With a palm out to his teammate signaling him to halt, the leader painstakingly, through surrounding trees and herbs, made his way to the cave’s entrance. 

The creature was not just a person, but a female teenager out here in the woods alone, looking worn out, yet daring, with her nose in the air and a staff in her right hand. As he got closer for a better view, the ringleader froze in his path. Standing before him was a replica of himself. She could pass as a younger female version of himself. The world suddenly came to a halt and the battle seemed to cave in on him.

I once heard a tale that when one is faced with one’s death or something close to one’s death, or something that shocks one out of one’s life and makes the world tilt to its very axis; one’s life is played back in one’s memory. Seeing the man before me, I experienced the manifestation tale firsthand. 

Mother had been the chosen one- the one to restore the glory of Ishanku back to her. An upheaval had been prophesied a long time ago, just before my mother’s birth. A prophecy that had taken five decades to come true. A prophecy that had taken my mother’s life and that of my grandfather- the Hanū. My mother’s mother had been the queen who, faced with challenges while giving birth, in labour, had vowed to devote her offspring and her offspring’s offspring to services to Ishanku. That was how mother became the Hentí, the last fighter of our clan. 

Even after the queen passed away, the king had refused to take on another bride. It was said that he “did not want to tint the blood of the lineage so as not to jinx the prophecy”.  

The day I had asked who my birth father was, my mother had smiled that knowing smile and told me a captivating tale of a foreigner who had been the first to visit Ishanku. He had come to purchase some cocoa and cotton which were rare at the time and had surprisingly bonded with the natives. She told me they both had a brief unofficial affair and when he had learnt that my mother was with child, he had fled and returned to his tome town. Mother had said he was a good man to her although their union was not a successful one. When I had asked her what he looked like, she had said I looked just like him. The only difference was that while I had a huge birthmark by a side of my forehead, he had two larger ones on both sides.