Charley had a nightmare. She woke in a state of bewilderment. The nightmare was about her life in Liberia, West Africa, so long ago, and about Africans that died from ethnic violence and brutality. It was 2020, and with all the chaos of the pandemic, movements, and politics, she was ill at ease and knew this is what stirred her dream state. She was edgy. Charley sleepily got out of bed, made tea, and strolled out into the night air gazing at the stars for answers. Jewels in the night sky, she loved to try and picture all the constellations. Her favorite was Orion, but in West Africa, it was the Southern Cross.
As Charley gazed at the heavens, she saw a bright star fall slowly towards the horizon. She felt it was a sign, and it brought back a special memory in 1986 of a Muslim man she was madly in love with. His name was Bakari, and he was a community leader in a small town where she lived and taught in Liberia, West Africa. Charley would never forget his words and how he told her he was in love with her. She drew a deep breath as she remembered the scene. A scene she would never forget. . .
Bakari walked in through the front door and past Charley. She got a whiff of him and was undone by how good he smelled. It overwhelmed her and drew her to him even more. Charley desired him. She became dizzy from his scent.
She made him tea, and he watched her grade papers while he drank it slowly. They talked periodically, trying to get to know one another. Bakari was witty, charming, and manly. He could speak, besides English and French, five other ethnic dialects, besides his Mandingo tongue. Bokai could read the Quran. However, he could not read English print. It was the reason he wanted all the children in his community to go to school to speak and read proper English.
They talked about the differences in their religions, for Charley was a non-practicing Catholic and he was Muslim. The Muslim religion was strict and conservative, much like the Catholic faith. Charley thought, What religion isn’t? It is like a government ordering you how to behave.
“Is there a heaven and a hell in your faith?” she asked Bakari.
“We believe there is one God and God only. We do not believe there was a son of God or a holy ghost. Jesus is a prophet to us, and Muhammad is our leader, our messenger, of whom God revealed his words to him, and it was written in the Quran. When we go to heaven, it will be paradise, where we will be with many virgins, who become virgins again after sex on earth. It is pure. If we live a good life and serve Allah, we are taken to paradise. If we are not good Muslims, then our souls are taken into darkness and pain known as hell.”
“What about Muslim women?”
“They are the virgins,” he responded.
“Well then, I guess I won’t be seeing you in heaven when I die. I have no desire to serve a man eternally, and I am definitely not a virgin, nor will I ever be!” She surprised herself in her candor. Bakari laughed.
I wondered if this was his real version of heaven or just a fantasy, and I was slightly disturbed, but I had to respect his answer.
Charley finished grading papers and told Bakari he should go before dark. He finished his tea and got up from the table. She walked him to the front door.
“Charley, you know each time a Mandingo man falls in love, a star falls from the sky and lands on his head, touching his heart and soul so she may love him back.”
“So, what are you saying, Bakari?”
“I am saying a star with your name on it has fallen into my heart.”
She suddenly didn’t care if he was charming her, she felt weak in the knees, giddy. Charley bowed her head so he wouldn’t see her nose sweat from nervousness, but he lifted her chin up, and with his deep pools of chocolate eyes stared deep into her dark green eyes. He kissed her long and hard, and she did not resist. His lips were soft and moist to the touch. It sent a shock wave through her body. Charley shuddered. She felt the room shift around her, and she’d never felt like this before. She wanted him.
There had been signs of civil war coming, and Liberia was under martial law. She pushed Bakari away, nervously spit her words out. “Goodnight. I hope you make it home without incident, for it is way past the curfew hour.”
Before Bakari’s arrival, Charley had to deal with a warlord named Ghankay, who had been stalking her since her arrival in Voinjama. Bakari happened upon them, confronted and threatened Ghankay, so he left. Bakari saved Charley from his relentless and lecherous pursuit.
“Goodnight. If Ghankay comes back for you, Charley, you come to find me, promise?”
“Of course, I think he’s afraid of you!”
“He should be! When he was in Sam Doe’s good graces, he and his men raped and killed my youngest sister in Monrovia at the University, right after Doe became the military leader. Plenty of girls and boy students were killed.” Bakari's eyes suddenly looked distant, as if trapped in a terrible memory.
“That’s… horrendous. I’m so sorry. I will mourn for the loss of your sister.”
“I will have my revenge. Ghankay knows I am after him, and that is why he put me in prison and tortured me before you came here.”
“How did you get out, Bakari?”
“General Quiwonkpa made Ghankay release me. He knew if I were killed, there would be an uprising in Voinjama and Lofa County, since I am a respected businessman, and General Quiwonkpa needed our support against Doe. Now that Quiwonkpa is dead from his coup attempt, I fear for the Muslims in Lofa County, for we are in the middle between Sam Doe and Ghankay.”
Bakari left, and Charley knew her life would never be the same again, and she knew she would never love another.
As Charley saw the falling star go beyond the horizon, she felt tears stream down her face, she missed Bakari and knew the only way she would see him again was in one of their heavens.
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