Rococoa

by Balogun Ojetade (ed)

  Fanta slipped the bulb back into her bag. Pulse? She thought. She withdrew the knife and pistol. She tossed the bag over her shoulder and then slid the knife into her boot. With shaking fingers, she held the gun sideways, studying it.

  She had never shot a gun a day in her life. Not even when her mother had given her the old Henry rifle left to her by her father and told her to shoot the angry former Confederate soldiers who raided their Georgia farm after the war, looking to force the now free Blacks to continue laboring for free. Luckily, her mother was a good enough shot for the both of them. No more Confederates returned to their farm after that day. This gun, however, was a bit different from any she had ever seen. It had a thumb gauge, along with a clip in the finger area that connect to gears in the pistol’s frame.

  She jumped when she heard harsh shouting come from outside.

  Akil said stay put; stay low. Okay, I can do that…but he didn’t say anything about not defending myself.

  Lying flat against the floor, she crawled to the door and opened it a crack. She peered out. A woman’s body fell before her. Life faded from the woman’s eyes. Liquid red seeped slowly from the corner of her trembling lips. Terror surged through Fanta as she recognized the face – it was the woman who had fought so well outside of her window. Panicked, she flung the door open, crawling out of the room on her arms and elbows. She lay two fingers against the woman’s moist neck. The blood and sweat coating her flesh made it difficult for Fanta to feel the fluttering of her pulse.

  Fanta, come on! You’re trained for this. You’re a nurse. You can do this!

  A line of what looked like lightning pierced the hull of the ship. Shards of the ship’s deck flew into the air. Everything around Fanta shook. Latching onto the fallen woman’s shoulder, she pulled hard and dragged her into Akil’s cabin.

  “Don’t die! Please,” she said, searching frantically for the woman’s pulse. She sighed through her smile when she found it.

  Entry wounds peppered the injured woman’s arms, side and right leg. Fanta was not sure where to start, but she worked as quickly as she could. Fanta pulled open the fallen woman’s kaftan and then looked around the cabin. On a table near the bed, were several amber liquids, rushing to it, she grabbed the decanters and water in a bucket.

  In the fireplace was an iron shovel and a poker. Hurriedly, she grabbed them. Then something – like a fluttering in her stomach –guided her to her bag. Digging in it, she pulled out what she thought useful – a pair of tweezers; and a blue, glass bottle labeled, simply, ointment; She began work, extracting wood shards and iron pellets from the woman.

  The woman stirred.

  “Stay with me…what is your name?” she asked, tapping the woman’s face to keep her awake.

  Blood spilled from the corners of the woman’s eyes. She let out sharp cries as Fanta worked. Her lips and body trembled from the effort to speak.

  “You’re a fighter; you can do it! Your name…tell me, please.”

  “Tulu,” the woman whispered. “Tulu Wata.”

  “Hello, I’m Fanta,” she said, continuing to work. “I saw how fierce you were out there. You saved many of your people.”

  Tulu said nothing. She just stared at Fanta through fading eyes.

  Occasionally she would mutter in a language Fanta did not understand and then pass out. All Fanta could do was continue working her hardest to keep the woman alive.

  The door to the cabin flung open. Orders were barked at her in Spanish. Swiftly, Fanta grabbed her pistol and squeezed the trigger.

  She yelped as a ray of golden light erupted from the muzzle of the pistol. The flames and gleaming lights in the cabin intensified.

  The hulking man in the doorway stiffened.

  Fanta could see the hallway behind him through the gaping hole in his chest and back.

  He collapsed in a smoking heap.

  Fanta darted to the open door. Other men bounded up the hall toward her. She pointed the pistol and squeezed the trigger again. This time, balls of pewter shot out of the gun.

  The round ripped through the flesh of the man at the front. A moment later, a muffled burp rose from the small hole that the ball punched in his chest.

  The man fell to his knees, his bubbling insides running out of every orifice like soup boiling over a pot.

  Fanta, appalled, wrinkled her nose. She leaped back into the room and then quickly slammed the door, pressing her back against it.

  Tulu lay sprawled on the floor watching her. She shifted her body, bumping agains Fanta’s bag. The Lotus Bulb rolled out and onto the floor.

  Tulu stared at it, wide-eyed.

  Fanta stuffed the bulb back in the knapsack and then checked the bindings on Tulu’s waist. “Just stay calm Tulu.”

  Tulu gazed at Fanta. Tears fell down the corner of her eyes.

  The door swung open again.

  Akil stepped into the room, panting and frantically looking Fanta’s way. He rushed forward then took a knee beside Tulu.

  “Blast the bastards!” he roared.

  Akil cradled the woman’s head in his muscular arms. Yanking off his tartan, he gently placed it under Tula’s head and then stood. “Can you help her?”

  “I’ve been trying,” Fanta explained. “I don’t know what else to do. I’m a nurse, but there is very little here to work with.”

  Akil took several strides towards the table. He reached under it, his long fingers feeling for something. When he found it, a slight clicking noise began.

  Several gears appeared from under the table, cranking and revealing a massive metal contraption that rose from the floor.

  “Tulu is the embodiment of Mami Wata,” Akil said. “She prophesied that we will harvest the Pulse for our people and you Travelers will protect the gates from the men who attack us. This special ship was to keep you safe and hidden from them, but they found us too fast because of their traitorous trackers who seek the bulbs…and you.”

  The contraption that rose from the floor was what the people of Fanta’s time called a Gatling Gun – a rapid-fire, crank-driven gun with a cylindrical cluster of several barrels.

  Akil hit a button on the edge of the table.

  The windows in the room disappeared into their sills. The ceiling opened, exposing the sky. He sat in his chair before the “Gatling” gun. The seat rose, taking him, and the gun, skyward.

  “Negro furtou é ladrão; branco furtou é barão,” he said. “A Negro who steals is a thief; a white man who steals is a baron.”

  Rotating the chair he gave Fanta a quick glance. “They call us thieves, but we take to survive; to protect Pulse. They take us and take the Travelers.”

  “I can’t let them take the ship or you,” he said, staring down the big gun’s barrel. “You are a descendant of Mami Wata. Her blood is the key to the gates that bring all the Travelers here. We must keep the gates open for the future generations because if we don’t, all is lost and the Colonists will wipe us out.”

  Tulu coughed. “They will kill those of us who can mine the Pulse and then steal it from us,” she said. Her voice was a bit stronger. “Then, they will jump to your time and continue our suffering as chattel. Your…Emancipation, as the other Travelers I have encountered called it, will never happen. I have seen it in my dreams. I have also seen you saving your world.”

  “I’m just a nurse who awakened in this crazy world. I don’t have power,” Fanta cried.

  “You are still locked in fear and confusion,” Akil said. “We need you to trust us; trust yourself. Tulu, too, is Mami Wata incarnate. Her dreams never fail.”

  Tulu coughed then slapped her hand in the bowl of water beside her.

  In the rippling water, Fanta saw images of people locked in battle. They fought using an energy that emanated from the earth. She saw people from her world disappear and then appear in this time on the same mission that she was.

  Fanta felt weak. She fell to her knees. Her hand seemed guided to the same bowl of water where Tulu’s hand lay.<
br />
  A translucent, light blue mist rose from the water and then wrapped around Fanta’s hand. It traveled up her wrist, disappearing under the sleeve of her shirt. She felt its cool touch spread throughout her entire being.

  She heard Tulu whisper, “Pulse.”

  Fanta grabbed Tulu’s hand, sending some of the light blue essence into the woman.

  “We are the vessel of Pulse; all shaman and native born around the world,” Akil said. “Only we can wield it and we will stop it from being corrupted!”

  He fired the big gun. The weapon purred as it spat a maelstrom of iron across the sky.

  Fanta stared at Tulu. The light blue essence had transformed her. Her exquisite, red-brown skin shimmered like the surface of the sea. She had taken the appearance of a sea nymph. She was a god.

  “Touch the bulb,” Tulu said. Her voice like the sound of a well-tuned harp. “Then cast it into the open. We will protect you, daughter.”

  Fanta felt everything around her speak to her. The air, the wood of the ship, the fire, the clouds, the water – it all spoke to her and welcomed her to use their gifts. She picked up the bulb.

  Akil shot off rounds like a madman from his seat behind the massive gun. “Go, Traveler!”

  She grabbed the bulb, then ran to the door.

  Heat flowed from her hands into the bulb. Running with it, she sprinted past frenzied men and women who tried to block her way.

  “The bulb!” someone shouted.

  “Traveler!” shouted another.

  Then, “Kill her!”

  The sailors on the boat, Akil’s crew, protected her. A rope was thrown her way. She grabbed it and held on as she was lifted off her feet. As she rose, she saw Tulu, fighting with her twin sticks as if she had never suffered any injury. A light blue light flashed with each strike she delivered. Tulu shouted. A moment later, columns of water erupted from the sea and struck her enemies, knocking several of the men overboard.

  Akil fired on the enemy ship, ripping scores of small holes in its hull.

  Fanta looked down at the sputtering bulb. It’s blue light had begun to fade. It obviously needed more power, and she was not sure how to recharge it.

  “Crazy world I’m in, please, help me feed this bulb,” she said, looking skyward.

  A bullet whizzed past her. She yelped.

  Tucking the bulb under her arm, Fanta drew her pistol and fired a volley of rounds.

  Men fell wherever she pointed the muzzle of the weapon.

  Akil smiled at her, raising his fist.

  Two men charged toward her. She squeezed the trigger again, but the gun did not fire.

  “Damn it!” she spat, dropping it.

  She took a wide legged stance and, holding tight to the sparking bulb, she swung her fist.

  Her fist slammed into a man’s mouth.

  The man she struck laughed.

  Fanta extended her leg driving her instep up between his legs.

  The man collapsed to his knees, grasping his aching groin.

  Fanta shuffled her feet in a little dance and then kicked the man in his face.

  The man fell on his face. He did not move.

  Akil shouted down to her, “Your power! Use it!”

  She turned, looking up at the chair. Akil was gone.

  Around her, the air rippled. She thrust out her palm. She felt a tug within her, like the atmosphere was pulling her into its embrace, becoming one with her. A wave of water rose and followed the movement of her hand. She thrust her palm toward the second man who closed on her. Tendrils of water speared into each of the man’s orifices, drowning him where he stood.

  Fanta dropped her hand. She blinked a couple of times and shook her head. She looked around to see if anyone noticed what she had done. Akil’s crew was locked in battle. Intermittently, they, too, used elemental powers. Pieces of wood lifted Continentals into the air and then slammed them into other Colonists. Other men combusted into flames and ash.

  “My dreams revealed that you can call on lightning,” Akil said, felling men with his war hammer as he stepped toward her.

  Fanta shook her head, laughed, and then shrugged, “My day can’t get any crazier. Okay…let’s do this!”

  Akil slammed his hammer into the face of a Continental. He peered over his shoulder at Fanta and nodded. His hand reached behind him, brushing against her back. She turned to face him. He turned, leaned forward and kissed her. Bring on the lightning, she thought.

  A loud crack of thunder sounded. She and Akil leaped back from each other.

  Lightning speared through her and into the bulb. All around her, the waves rolled, swayed and grew.

  Tulu leaped from the boat. A moment later, the waves swallowed her.

  “Tulu!” Fanta gasped.

  Tulu’s smiling face surfaced. She waved toward Fanta, beckoning her to join her.

  Fanta breathed a sigh of relief. She then tossed the bulb overboard, opened her arms wide and plunged into the sea.

  Panic swallowed Fanta up with the waves. She sank, following the bulb into the blackness of the ocean. Water burned her lungs. This wasn’t how it was supposed to be, she thought. But it was.

  The bulb landed on a bed of sand deep in the ocean. Fanta landed beside it. Colorful fish swam past her, settling around where the bulb was, as if protecting it. She felt the thumping of her heart stall into a slow rhythm.

  Had she not felt the light fluttering under her body she would have let go of the final bit of air in her mouth. She felt her body drift away, leaving the bulb where it lay.

  Her spirit danced in her chest. She heard a voice: Stay or go.

  Stay! She thought.

  A mighty blast of blue energy rose from the sand beneath her and sent Fanta flying out the sea. Below her, the seas swirled and swirled. She coughed out the briny taste of water. A moment later, she landed on her side, back on the deck of the ship.

  “The ships…they are being swallowed by the sea! Mami Wata’s vengeance has begun!” people shouted.

  She felt a hand on her back. It gently traveled down her body and then lifted her into the air.

  “I was vexed that I would not get to kiss you again,” Akil said, gazing into her eyes.

  Too weary to speak, she laid her head against his chest.

  His crew, including Tulu, gathered on the deck.

  A bright light flashed above them. Over their heads, a circle of white power opened in the sky. Within the circle, Fanta could see many islands, mountains and massive stone structures, whose outer surfaces were triangular, converging to single points at their summits.

  “You opened a new gate,” Akil said. “More will come and more battles will occur. But until then, we have our own journey to go on, Fanta, my precious Traveler.”

  Fanta held him close. She noticed a gash on Akil’s forehead. “I have to patch that up,” she said.

  “Patch? Hmm…si, yes you do,” Akil replied. “Shipmates, we won! Now, home to the Isles!”

  Fanta smiled. Mami Wata, if I’m dreaming, never wake me again, she thought.

  Her dreams had become a sweet reality, one she never wanted to give up, as strange as that was.

  THE ADVENTURES OF THE BLACK STAR

  Jeff Carroll

  One

  “Ijeoma why must we go so far from the shore? The Niger is not a fan of our fishing,” Aneesa observed.

  Both sisters had rich, dark-brown skin. Ijeoma, the oldest, was also the larger of the two girls.

  “Never mind the rough waves. This boat is carved from the baobab tree.” Ijeoma replied.

  “It is not the boat that I fear will not survive these waters, big sister. It is us.”

  Their boat rocked from side to side in the muddy waters, as the craft passed through a bend in the river. Ijeoma steadied it with her oar, and Aneesa rowed. It was just past dawn and the animals were awake. Birds flew over the river looking for fish, and large fish hunted the smaller ones.

  “Why do you fear the water Aneesa?” asked Ijeom
a. “You have been my fishing partner for over a year, yet you do not trust me.”

  “I am not here because I enjoy the water like you,” Aneesa retorted. “I enjoy eating fish, and if I wait for mother to fish I will go crazy.”

  Ijeoma smiled at her sister. “When father started taking me out on the water, he calmed my nerves by telling me the story of ‘The water and the lad’.”

  “Well, tell me the tale so that my nerves may be calm.”

  “If you quiet your running mouth, I will.”

  “Just tell me the story.”

  “Father explained to me that we are always on water,” Ijeoma said. “In fact, it is water which we are made of. Water loves the land. And water surrounds all land.”

  Aneesa looked interested. “Really? But all I see to the East is land.”

  “Well beyond our forest are hills; past the hills is water. You can take this river to that great water. Father said: ‘Land rests in the palms of Yemoja. She is the Goddess who creates and loves us.’”

  Aneesa laughed. “Well I don’t want to drown in the hands of this river. Maybe the story was more effective when father told it.”

  “You need to worry less about drowning,” her sister scoffed, “and start gathering the net as we are almost near our fishing spot.”

  “I am only worried about falling into the water, because you are as big as a man, with arms and legs like an ayyu.”

  “Oh, so you feel my legs are as fat as a manatee?”

  “Yes, a big, fat ayyu.”

  “Well, it’s not my size and strength that threaten the capsizing of our boat. It is your melon head. At least I am balanced, as your head is as big as a manwawi. When you were little, mother said you might need a crutch for your head if you were ever to walk straight.”

  “You always talk about my head. You’re just jealous because the boys like it better than yours. Wait until we get back to the village. I bet Musu helps carry my fish basket. I can’t wait for us to get back,” Aneesa teased. “He’s going to try to kiss me again.”

  Why must we travel so far from our village anyway? We have passed our land.”

  “Hush, Aneesa! Father said land is of no one tribe’s possession.”