Royal Pride

by Zelda Knight

  There were a few white faces scattered here and there but all the pilots and flight attendants crossing the concourse were Black. The people killing time in the restaurants were Black. The desk staff and the baggage handlers and the tourists in line were all Black.

  Serwa just wanted to put down her suitcase and do a little happy dance. She had never felt such an intense sense of connection and belonging in any public space.

  Tina briefed the group on airport scams to avoid and then they were all met by Tina’s opposite number, another chipper woman whose name was Ozigbodi but told them to call her Izzy. She wore eyeglasses that covered roughly half her face and was no bigger than a minute as Serwa’s grandmother would say.

  “Are you getting Ruth Bader Ginsberg vibes?” one of the men—his name was Darren--whispered to Serwa as Izzy raced off to find a luggage cart.

  “I know you’re not dissing RPG,” Serwa replied, thinking of how her father often greeted her with the statement, “It’s not too late to go to law school.”

  “Wouldn’t dream of it,” he said and smiled. Darren had a nice smile. The other guy, who had introduced himself as Abeiku Yeboah, looked disapproving. Serwa wondered if he was going to be that person, the proverbial “one bad apple who never seemed to be able to enjoy himself unless he was making everyone else miserable. But she soon forgot about Abeiku as Izzy returned and went into her official speech welcoming them as members of the African diaspora before bundling them all into a van and driving them into Airport City.

  Chapter Four

  They stayed the night in the Accra Marriott Hotel, and at Tina’s suggestion, to try to mitigate jet lag, rather than go to bed right away, everyone trooped down to the pleasant little bar where they could get a cocktail and a light snack.

  At first, Serwa was stunned by the prices on the menu, but then she realized the prices were posted in GHC, the local currency, which was worth about seventeen cents per Ghanaian cedi.

  She ordered a plate of humus and pita bread followed by a large piece of chocolate cake for the equivalent of $1.36. Meanwhile, Orinda, the other singleton, sucked down about a 150 cedi’s worth of a cocktail called an Adisidal which was a potent mix of orange and pineapple juices, hibiscus, vodka and Triple Sec. She offered Serwa a sip and it almost put her on her ass.

  The two women Serwa had pegged for a couple turned out to be cousins that vacationed together every year. “It was Anna’s idea to come here,” her cousin Sharine said in between bites of . “She wanted to come here for the Return, but we couldn’t work out our schedules.”

  Serwa noticed that Abeiku had ordered fried yam with gizzard in pepper sauce and it looked insanely good and had Anna tapping away at her phone to see if she could find the recipe.

  “You make shrimp and grits with cheese sauce from a jar,” Sharine said. “You are never going to make that.”

  “I might,” Anna said, then laughed. “Or at least I can get the ingredients and let them sit around long enough until you finally make it for me.”

  Sharine harumphed but looked pleased.

  Tina and Izzy kept the conversation flowing so Serwa just ate her food and listened. She learned Darren was a real estate speculator who was interested in buying up Ghanaian properties and turning them into rentals. “You will need to be up to date on land legislation,” Tina commented and Darren bristled a little bit.

  Eventually everyone headed up to bed. The schedule for the next day was light, with optional trips to the W.E.B. DuBois center or the beach or just lazing around the pool. Serwa had already asked about a solo trip to Mole National Park, but it took more than ten hours to drive from Accra and she was not sure she was up for a full day of traveling so she opted for the half-day safari tour leaving from the hotel. She booked it through another travel operator and Tina and Izzy did not seem pleased.

  “You will enjoy it,” Abeiku predicted, and Serwa had. It had been thrilling to spot so many animals up close, even though they weren’t exactly in the wild. She had been particularly fascinated by the lions she had seen.

  The next day was the centerpiece of the whole trip, a visit to the remains of Elmina Castle, the complex erected by the Portuguese in the 15th century as part of a trade settlement and later used as an embarkation point for shiploads of enslaved people headed across the Atlantic.

  Tina had told everyone that Elmina was about a three-hour ride from Accra, and after admonishing everyone to dress conservatively, they all loaded into a van.

  On the way, Serwa chatted with her seatmate Orinda, who had spent the day before taking pictures of the market stalls on Spintex Road and had returned with so many reams of colorful material, she told Serwa she was going to have to buy an additional suitcase to bring it all back.

  “Do you sew?” Serwa asked.

  “Not a stitch,” she said happily, “but I know a woman who’ll whip me up some outfits.”

  Orinda was a history teacher from St. Joseph, a small town near Chicago that styled itself “the Riviera of the Midwest.”

  “Sounds really white,” Serwa commented.

  “Ninety-eight percent,” Orinda acknowledged. “I don’t have much of a social life.” It turned out Orinda lived for travel. She went on several foreign trips every year, she told Serwa, and that she was on her second round of choosing her destinations alphabetically.

  “Where will you go next,” Serwa asked.

  “Probably Honduras,” she said. “Last time I got to the Hs, I went to Hungary but they are off my list now because of their horrible anti-LGBTQ stance.”

  Orinda and Serwa had talked politics a little while, then they had both settled back against the comfortable seats and dozed.

  It was nice to just sit back and be driven. The day before they group had driven out to see the Wli Waterfalls and that had meant a hike through a jungle full of butterflies and birds. The walk to the lower falls was flat and relatively easy but the hike to the upper falls was described as challenging and it had lived up to its reputation.

  Serwa had been the only woman to complete the climb and Abeiku called her “fierce,” a compliment that left her glowing inside.

  Why do you want to impress this man so much? she had scolded herself at the time.

  Serwa was sore in places where she didn’t even know she had muscles although she thought of herself as relatively fit. What I wouldn’t give for a massage right about now, she thought. She had googled “best massages in Accra” before she left and had seen a couple of places that were rated nearly five stars. She knew it was crazy indulgent to spend money on pampering but it felt sooooo good.

  All thoughts of massage were driven away as Elmina Castle appeared on the horizon.

  “Oh my,” Orinda said, and snapped a picture with her phone. The place was huge and dominated the skyline. For some reason a phrase floated through Serwa’s mind. The devil in the white city. She knew that in its day, six hundred years ago, it must have been utterly, malignly, magnificent. She had no doubt the devil had inhabited Elmina Castle once upon a time.

  “It reminds me of Auschwitz,” Orinda said. “I can’t even look at the pictures I took there, for fear I’ll see ghosts.”

  Orinda’s words sounded fanciful but once the group was actually inside, Serwa found she felt the same way. Anna and Sharine and Darren were snapping away with their cameras but it felt wrong to her, as if her main job was to simply stand there and bear witness.

  Then she found it hard to catch her breath. The space was vast but once upon a time, it had been crammed with bodies. The pain and fear of all those who were kidnapped and shackled and loaded on the boats overwhelmed her.

  She found herself getting dizzy and she was hot in a way that had nothing to do with the heat dazzling off the white stone.

  It felt like something was tearing loose inside of her and clawing to get out.

  Suddenly, Abeiku was there, holding her arm, looking at her with concern. “Come into the shade.”

  “I have to get out of here,” s
he said.

  “I understand,” he said and helped clear a pathway through the tourists to the exit. She sat down on a little bench and put her head between her knees. Abeiku produced a cold bottle of Verna natural mineral water from somewhere, which she drank gratefully. He waited patiently for her to finish, not trying to fill the silence with meaningless chatter.

  “You’ve been here before?” she said as she finished the water.

  He nodded. “Many times. It can be overwhelming.” He studied Serwa for a moment. “Maybe when we get back you should go do something completely frivolous. Like shopping for diamonds.”

  “Diamonds?” Serwa asked. “Why would I want to shop for diamonds?” The suggestion annoyed her and so did his decision to double down.

  “You’re not interested in diamonds?” he said. “Most tourists are.”

  “Thanks for the water,” Serwa said. “I’m going back to the bus.”

  Chapter Five

  Everyone was quiet on the ride back to the hotel. Tina and Izzy kept busy texting, but everyone else either drowsed or looked out the windows. That was what Serwa was doing when she felt someone settle into the seat next to her. To her surprise, it was Abeiku. He looked very serious.

  “I owe you an apology,” he said. “I’m not particularly good with small talk.”

  “No,” Serwa agreed. “You’re not.”

  He looked abashed. “I just meant to suggest you do something frivolous. Something that would not make you sad.”

  “I appreciate that,” Serwa said, still annoyed. To her surprise, though he lapsed into silence, he did not move to another seat. She was very much aware of him sitting next to her for the next three hours.

  Feeling restless back in the air conditioned room, Serwa decided a trip to Spintex Road might be what she needed. She wanted to buy presents for her parents and Tina and she knew there was a mall there, as well as many outdoor stalls.

  She washed her face, put on extra moisturizer and sunscreen and headed out. It was a little far to walk in the heat, so she summoned an Uber and was soon speeding to her destination.

  She knew many of the merchants were catering to European and North American tourists but some of the brilliantly colored elephant grass baskets were so beautiful, she didn’t care that they were priced for outsiders. She’d already decided to buy some kente cloth herself and extra for Twilla. You could buy plenty of the traditional cloth in Chicago, but she’d never seen such a huge selection of colors.

  Serwa was about to reach for a length of cloth when she felt herself shoved hard from behind as her purse was snatched off her shoulder. She struggled to catch her balance as the vendor yelled something angrily to the thief. There was a sudden flurry behind her and a moment later, Abeiku appeared at her side, her purse in his hand. Bewildered, she took it. “Thanks,” she said, and then watched as a couple of Ghanaian cops escorted a tall, skinny guy out of the area as another cop took Abeiku aside and spoke to him respectfully. When he returned to her side, he looked bemused.

  “Are you all right?” he asked.

  “I’m fine,” she said impatiently. “Are you stalking me?”

  “I’m keeping track of you.”

  Serwa surveyed him critically. “You’re not just a tourist, are you?”

  “It’s complicated,” he said. And that was all she expected him to say but he surprised her. “Do you have plans for this evening?”

  It was the last night they would spend in the country and Serwa had planned to do some pre-packing. “No,” she said.

  “I want to show you something,” he said. “I’ll fetch you at seven.”

  Serwa didn’t even think of saying no.

  When Orinda saw Serwa leaving with Abeiku, she just lifted one eyebrow and smirked. “I feel like the principal just caught me ditching school,” Serwa said. Abeiku gave her the side-eye. “I bet you never ditched school in your life.” Serwa hadn’t, but she hated admitting it. The confession always made her feel like she was soooo boring.

  A valet pulled a black Hyundai up to the door and Abeiku tipped him before opening the passenger side door for Serwa. They’d pulled away and into traffic before he started to speak.

  “You’re right. I’m not a tourist,” he said. I’m an FBI gent assigned to the Ghanaian embassy. I’ve been here for the past two years.”

  “But you flew here from Chicago.”

  “My parents live in Chicago.”

  Serwa started to shake her head. “But why are you pretending you’re just a guy on vacation?”

  “Remember when I asked you about diamonds and you got so mad?”

  “Yes.”

  “I just wanted to confirm something.”

  Serwa didn’t say anything, so he went on. “I’m on assignment. Someone’s been smuggling diamonds using Black 2 Africa as a front and it’s my job to figure out who.”

  “It’s not me,” Serwa said.

  “I know,” he said. “It’s Tina and Izzy. The reason I was following you was to keep you away from your room so they could plant some diamonds in your luggage. I have a colleague watching them and we’re pretty sure they were going to move today.”

  “Did they?”

  “Yes,” he said, then shrugged. “We’re pretty sure they’ve been doing the same thing for years. Their modus operandi is to hide the gems in the women’s suitcases and then if someone finds them, they can blame everything on their sisters of the diaspora.”

  He was quiet for a moment. “We’ll pick them up at the airport.

  “What tipped you off?”

  “A few months ago, one of their guests found some diamonds in a bottle of hand lotion and called us.”

  “That’s pretty brazen,” Serwa said.

  “Fortune favors the bold,” he said.

  “How did you know I wasn’t in on the scam?”

  “I know you better than you know yourself,” he said.

  “You’re man-splaining?”

  “No. That’s what I want to show you.”

  He drove her to a small nature preserve protected by a high-tech fence and surveillance cameras.

  “What is this place?” she asked.

  “A refuge,” he said. “It belongs to a private group and it isn’t open to the public.”

  “But you know the code,” she said as he leaned in to the device that would scan his eye and then punched a series of numbers into a keypad.

  “Yes,” he said. “I’m one of the owners.”

  Serwa was definitely intrigued as they entered the preserve and parked the car. Abeiku got out of the car and walked a few feet away. Curious, she followed and watched as he began to undress and meticulously fold his clothes into a pile. And then suddenly, standing where a man had been moments before, was a full grown male lion, tawny with a black-tipped mane. He was massive, his heavy body rippling with thick muscle under the skin. The animal turned to her and in her head she heard, Your turn.

  Serwa was still processing the sight of the lion in front of her when she felt her own body began to change. She hastily shucked off her clothes so that she was naked in the moonlight, her dark skin gilded with traceries of silver light from the full moon.

  A thick woman, she felt her weight shifting and her bones getting heavier until she had completely transformed into a full-grown lioness. The process was painful.

  It will get easier, Abeiku said in her mind.

  Will it be less painful? she asked.

  No, but you won’t mind it as much. And then he set off running. Serwa had always had excellent night vision but now it was as if it was high noon. Everything around her was clear and sharp. The night had seemed quiet to her in her human form but now it was alive with noises, both near and far away. She remembered reading somewhere that lions can hear prey from a mile off and then she found herself marveling at thinking like a human while in an animal’s form. And then there was no time for thinking because Abeiku had begun to run. She ran after him and realized to her delight that she was fast. Really
, really fast. She felt alive in every nerve ending of her body. She felt powerful.

  She felt alive.

  She caught up to Abeiku and bumped against him so forcefully that he nearly fell over. She rubbed her cheek against his fur, leaving her scent. He returned the affectionate gesture and then suddenly mounted her as she writhed beneath him in a primal fit of response.

  Moments later, she rolled over and Abeiku melted back into his man shape, though some of the musk of the big cat still clung to him. It was powerful. Pungent. Wild.

  They mated again in their human form and afterwards dressed and returned to the car, leaving the windows open to the night sounds.

  “How did you know?” Serwa asked him when she had sufficient control over her emotions.

  “Your scent,” he said. “I knew you were destined to be my mate the moment I met you.”

  “I don’t believe in fate,” she said. He shrugged but did not try to convince her.

  “When did you first learn you could…do that?” Serwa asked, waving her arm vaguely to indicate “that.” She still couldn’t believe that she’d never transformed before but had done so seamlessly on her first try. She was going to have to have a serious talk with her parents.

  “You mean shifting?” Abeiku said. “When I was twelve. Fortunately, my father knew what was happening and knew what to do. It wasn’t exactly the Lion King, but we made it work.”

  “Could he shift too?”

  “He could and he can. He is magnificent in his beast form.”