Alade (Irunmole Saga)

by Jean-Marc Akerele

  “Why the hell for? Isn’t the point to create slaughter, madness and mayhem so you can drink deeply of it? Isn’t this darkness what you need?”

  “Yes, but the food has no value anymore. This is cannon fodder they are sending now. I need true power. “

  “What do you intend to do?”

  “I am not sure yet but nonetheless get the Elders to agree to meet with me.”

  “Fine, I just hope you know what you are doing.”

  “I do.”

  “Good. What are you staring at? You want something else? Like a shot of bourbon perhaps? Or a punch in the mouth?”

  “No thanks, but I do have a question. Why do you have to drink bourbon to survive?”

  “Ah, well that is a long story.”

  “Well are you doing anything right now?”

  “Not really, as you can see, everyone here is dead.”

  “Good. Then I will help you clean up while you tell me the story.” “Alright Lucius, I’ll tell you the story. It will feel good to talk about it to someone. Have Samantha send me a fresh case of bourbon. This will take some time.” I mentally signaled Samantha and shortly thereafter a case materialized in front of us. Lulu and I sat down on a pile of dead shape-shifters, we each took a deep swig from her bottle, and then she began to tell me her tale.

  13 Nzambi in its wisdom had formulated a plan to achieve balance within the cosmos and it is through this infinite wisdom that balance was attained and creation achieved. That one chooses to call the One True God by a different name is of no consequence and in Lulu’s world Nzambi and Oludumare were one and the same being. Lulu’s real name was Mbilia Nsimba Kimpanzu and she had been born in 1685 on the banks of the Congo River in an area called Mboma, the youngest daughter of the Bakongo King Nzinga Elenke Kimpanzu of the House of Awenekongo of Kibangu. Theirs was an old and royal house who had in the past eschewed all things mundane, preferring to spend their time in intellectual and spiritual pursuits and leaving politics to the other royal houses. But destiny has its own idea of how things should play out and in 1669 her father found himself elected king and was soon inundated with the problems arising from the growing deprivations of the Portuguese colonialists who were making further headway into the interior. With their strange ways and strange customs came a strange new religion which they had begun to forcefully place upon the necks of the people like a yoke. The people became cattle for the God of these white men and it was for this reason that the Bakongo elected Nzinga Elenke Kimpanzu to be their king. For his family were mighty servants of their Gods as well and in their studies, they had achieved a knowledge and power that was unmatched even by the Portuguese and their faceless God. Mbilia like other members of her family, had excelled in her studies from young age, quickly surpassing all of her peers and impressing her teachers with her quick mastery of the various magical skills which had been entrusted to them by the Nkesi who they served, much as the Omo Orisa served the Orishas. For this was a family of scholars and pious men and women who also knew the truth about creation; that all things were one. When Nzambi had created the first four hundred and one messengers, two hundred and fifty-six had been chosen by Orunmila to become the Orishas. The remaining one hundred and forty-five had not simply vanished as other pantheons would have them believe; instead they had taken their own rightful places in Nzambi’s creation and had manifested themselves as the Gods of other pantheons. These were not newly born Gods, like the younger ones who were causing so many problems were, but true parts of the original energy used in creating this world and inseparable from the other two hundred and fifty-six that became the Yoruba pantheon. They became the Kongo Gods and much as the Orishas blessed the Omo Orisa with ase, these Gods blessed their chosen people with the knowledge and wisdom to seek out the mysteries which lay just beyond the veil. The Bakongo people were mighty practitioners of secret arts, renowned by all the great nations of the world for their powers, and indeed their skills were sought out by wise men from all nations. And though they were not supernatural in origin themselves, the Bakongo people utilized the manifest forces of the universe, what the Orishas called the ajogun to do their bidding. With it they had built a mighty empire, one based, not upon war, but upon the intellect and the passions which inevitably drive humanity to strive for greater and greater heights. Their wisdom was known and prized as far as Egypt, which over the millennia had sent many of its own scholars to come and study at the feet of their greatest philosopher-kings. Mbilia’s father, King Nzinga Elenke Kimpanzu, was one such king. A philosopher-king possessed of mighty powers both sorcerous and clerical, he had spent his entire life in deep contemplation of the mysteries of the universe and in faithful service to his Gods. He had imparted this love of knowledge and fidelity to the Gods to all his children, though in Mbilia it seems, the Gods had found favor, as she was rewarded by her diligence and skill, with greater understanding of the ajogun and an incredible ability to manipulate them as well. As for the king, his days were now spent in council with his advisors and military leaders, debating what they must do stop the swift progress the Portuguese were making into Africa and the inevitable clash that was bound to occur between their cultures. His generals of course advocated an immediate expedition to go and crush the intruders, while others counseled diplomacy or even bribery. The king, however stayed silent preferring to listen to everyone, but refusing to act yet, for he knew something that the others did not; there would be no diplomacy, and there would be no defeating these White men whose only pastime was war. They would not relent until all of Kongo was theirs and they would enslave the people that they believed to be subhuman. Other sages before him had met this rapacious race, and his Gods had warned him to prepare the kingdom for the residual effects of the God’s war with the Interloper, the God of these invaders. The key to defeating them and pushing them back into the sea lay not in strength of arms, but in the strength of their magic of which these would-be conquerors seemed to have none whatsoever.

  Despite this, the king was still hesitant to confront these invaders for he did not understand from where had originated their madness and malice towards his people. Their arrival upstream from the Kongo Kingdom had spread a slow poison throughout the empire because the population had not immediately reacted and slain all these invaders, wiping their presence off the face of Africa before their numbers and superior arms could be brought into play. They began to not only subdue the empire but to seduce it, bringing with them a murderous war that could not possibly last. The Bakongo lacked the mundane weapons to fight these men on their own terms, men who had spent their entire lives bringing war to other nations, and as the people themselves began to fall to their seduction and joined their ranks as auxiliaries, the strength of the people’s will to resist began to become depleted. Many of the great clans capitulated and suddenly, the Portuguese had gained a permanent foothold into Kongo lands. Mbilia’s father, the king, was tormented by the betrayal of his subjects and began to turn his face away from humanity and more and more to the Gods to which he served so faithfully. It was this faith that saved the kingdom from falling immediately, as different parts of the Kongo Empire were dismantled and absorbed by these White men. But the king was both a mighty sorcerer and a priest, and by calling upon powers nurtured by years of study and granted to him by his faith in his Gods, he caused an interdiction to come forth from the Earth itself, barring the invaders from crossing into the last bastion of the kingdom. His fellow priests and priestesses added their own prayers and the combination of their powers kept the kingdom and more importantly their Gods, safe from the howling anger of the Interloper, who lurked just outside the fringes, bludgeoning the barrier in his hunger to absorb the worship of the Kongo Gods into himself and seed their lands with his chosen race. Mbilia also added her powers to the fray, having grown into a beautiful fifteen-year-old girl, fully initiated into the Makaya sect which had taught her to control her formidable powers. She had fulfilled the promise she had shown as a youth and it was her st
rength now which anchored the haven for her Gods, leaving the others free to maintain the interdiction. Though her love for her father at times made her wish for another role, for in his actions as king she could feel his profound loneliness and she yearned to go to him but could not. Her mother had died giving birth to her and her father had remained celibate since. But now the stress of a war and a kingship which he had not asked for was taking its toll and Mbilia was unable, because of her own duties, to comfort him as a daughter should. It was because of this that a weakness developed, a crack in the mighty magical fortress that together they had all created formed, a weakness that the Interloper in his vigilance would be quick to exploit.

  The Gods of the Kongo pantheon had come together in a conclave so that they could begin to decide a realistic plan of action. They were all aware of the precarious position in which they now stood, having seen for themselves the rapaciousness of the Interloper, and what he believed was his divine mandate from Nzambi to become its only true servant. At present, they stood in the midst of singularity which they had long ago created as a nexus for all of them to be able to meet and focus their powers in the event of the very situation which they now found themselves in. Located in the space between one second and the next this place was almost impregnable, though the Kongo Gods could never have known that the Interloper’s greatest power lay in his ability to manipulate time itself and that their haven was not as safe as they believed. All of the Gods were present and accounted for now; Kobayemede, God of Dead and Diseases, stood ramrod straight, his skeletal face staring into the void of the singularity, while his pale and statuesque wife Mariguanda, the Gatekeeper between Life and Death watched him with concern. The chubby Goddess of Water and Fertility Ma’Lango was laughing at some comment that Nkuyu, the hairy God of the Wood, Roads, Guidance and Balance had spoken, the two frivolous deities oblivious to the danger which awaited them. Chola Wengue, the Goddess of Richness and Pleasure was visibly disturbed judging by the way her feathered scalp was standing up on end. Other Gods such as Kimababula, the God Divination and the Winds, had a resigned air to him as he knelt casting the bones of a dragon in the hopes of seeing a less bleak vision, while there was Watariamba, the God of War and the Hunt, who had somehow drawn Ma’Kengue, the Spirit of wisdom and Justice and Sarabanda, the God of Work and Strength into his silly faction of Gods who wished to drop the interdiction and sally forth into combat with the Interloper. As all these Gods remained in their own thoughts it was only Lubaniba who remained focused and indeed was slowly formulating a plan that would enable not only their survival, but ensured their continued strength and ability to affect the world of humanity. Lubaniba was the Spirit which acted as the bridge between the Veils of the world, the power that allowed the Gods to communicate between worlds with mankind and even with the One God. This power allowed it to see beyond the bounds of reality and into all possibilities and it was in this myriad projection of every possibility that Lubaniba had discovered the one which would allow the Kongo Gods to not only survive intact but to also grow strong so that in time they could return to challenge the Interloper and reclaim their rightful places. But sacrifices must be made, and looking at the Gods assembled here it wondered whether this was possible. But as Lubaniba contemplated how it would approach this critical task; it smiled as it remembered the visitor it had received a few days before. If what the unexpected visitor had told the Spirit was true, and then it would take only a few subtle movements on its part to persuade them to undergo this transformation. The power that Lubaniba had been gifted with by this being would seal this great work and the Kongo Gods would be safe until such a time when they were strong enough to return in power. As Lubaniba returned its focus to the conclave and the various Gods who stood waiting for someone to speak, the Spirit could not help but wonder what Esu had to gain by in aiding them, and what, in the end, would the price of his friendship?

  While Lubaniba was making plans, the Interloper was furiously pacing his throne room, enraged that the Kongo Gods had thwarted him, and even now as he exercised his power over time and looked into time/space, he could see that they were planning even more drastic measures. But he was forbidden to act upon what his power showed him and this frustrated him even more, because in the end he knew that unless he acted quickly and decisively he would lose everything which he had hoped to gain by attacking these Gods in the first place. For the demonstration of power of the Bakongo people had shown him, proved that they would not fall to despair and no amount of persuasion or power on his part could turn this people from their faith in their Gods. Even if he penetrated the interdiction they would never abandon their faith for him. They would seal it up deep within themselves and carry it with them through whatever trials and tribulations he put them through. He had seen this before when he had tried to make war upon the Orishas’ lands and had failed miserably. Even those of their people he had managed to enslave had kept their faith and in fact used it to pervert his own worship into a form that not only gave him no power but rerouted power back to the Orishas. But he would not make the same mistake here; he knew that he must break their faith not by making war upon the Gods themselves but instead by breaking the will of the people, by turning them from their Gods by their own free will, through the actions of those who represented those very same Gods. It must be a betrayal of monumental proportions for it to work, one that broke the heart of a nation. The Interloper smiled maliciously, sent forth a mental call, and a few moments later the Quandisa arrived smiling. “Have you finally decided to put an angel to this boring task, my Lord,” she said. “Yemoja and Orunmila, judiciously avoid each other, though that is suspicious, that lusty and self-important fool Sango assures me that there are no deeper plans except to continue cultivating the Omo Orisa. Please Lord; relieve me of this burden it is boring me to sleep! Surely you have a better use for one of my unique skill set?” The Interloper looked at the Quandisa for a moment, and his eyes blazed with power as he lashed out with it and struck the Quandisa, sending her flying across the room. “Never, ever question my orders you wretched creature,” he said. “You exist at my sufferance never forget that. I gave you a task and that is all that matters. How could a lowly and fallen excuse for a Goddess understand the visions that one such as myself sees throughout the windows of time. I know that there is a connection between Yemoja and Orunmila because my vision has shown it to me. I must know when it begins, for mark my words that if I do not play my own hand in this celestial game of chess then you and all of servants, loyal and otherwise will be destroyed first. But as you know, I may not act upon what I see; it falls upon ones such as you to act as my proxies. Listen and obey, that is all I require of you.”

  “My apologies, my Lord, I meant no disrespect. What would you have me do now? Shall I return to my task?” “No, for now that task is done with, though we will revisit it in time. I need your skills now. I need your unique powers here and now and if you serve me well I will reward you. But see that you serve me well first, understood?”

  “Yes of course, my Lord. What do you wish of me?”

  “It is quite simple. You shall destroy God.”

  “What?”

  “I do not mean Oludumare, you idiot, but the concept of God that these Bakongo have.”

  “But is that not one and the same, my Lord? These are a pious people.” “Yes, but their piety rests on a concept grounded in the character of their leaders. Corrupt the concept and you weaken its base; corrupt the leaders and you will destroy the concept.”

  “I still do not understand my Lord. What would you have me do? Though I am a Goddess, metaphysics was never really that important to inspiring lust.” “Yes, and we know where that got you. Imagine, raising a Goddess to something as worthless as Lust? No wonder the cosmos is out of balance when Earth and its inhabitants, the beacon of Order in the cosmos, creates such useless creatures as yourself. Nonetheless, you do have your uses so I shall explain myself to you one last time, so pay attention. How does one over
come an invisible force such as morality, wisdom, or piety? These are a people whose idea of freedom is based upon a benevolent kind of despotism in which this despot cannot in principle do harm to the State or affect the well-being of the people because his mandate rests upon a mutual faith and belief in their Gods. This belief, is a belief in the brotherhood of humanity and is unconnected with the conception of equality or even some basic concepts of creation, like only the strong survive. The strength of this people lies not in their faith in the Gods but in their faith in their divinely mandated leaders who prove through their moral actions that they are indeed blessed by the Gods. This faith enables the people to walk through their lives content and humbly knowing that they are guided by the hand of a philosopherking whose vision guides them through more than one world. A king, who ultimately submits to will of the Gods who walk the Earth. To defeat this formidable nation, I must undermine this faith in not just their Gods, but more importantly in their leaders. I must tear out the soul of these people by corrupting their king who is the mind of this potent body, and put in his place the love and hunger for all things material and physical. By his example all the dominoes will fall and the people will succumb to despair and they will belong to me. We must remove their heads from the spiritual realms and keep them firmly grounded in the material so that they will begin to struggle against each other to gain economic superiority over each other and in doing so they will forget who their common enemy is. By the time they realize that they have lost their souls to greed and to gold they will be mine and all that was Kongo will have become the Interloper’s. Your task, Goddess of lust, is simple; the king is a widower and has been for a long time. His great need has opened a window through which I have seen both his loneliness, and his resolve. I believe if we were to alleviate one thing than the other would collapse. You must seduce him, you must let him woo you, and in the end when he needs you most, you must betray him and break his heart. In this way he, who is the cornerstone of not just the interdiction, but the kingdom itself, will despair and in his despair, he will turn his back on Kongo and the kingdom will finally fall to me. Do this and I shall grant you great power; fail me and I promise you that despite what is thought about Gods and death, I will find a way to kill you.” The Quandisa shivered, then quickly stood and bowed deeply to the Interloper, “Your will, my Lord,” she said, “But how will I cross the interdiction?”