Birth of a Dark Nation

by Rashid Darden

  One day, she finally refused to leave. We tried to send her back to the west, away from our home and away from the Kalinago, but she wouldn't go. She had nothing with her besides the clothes she wore. When we tried to leave her at the beach, she followed. Ariori screamed at her to go, but she just screamed back in her own language, just as feisty and as rebellious as she wanted to be.

  Dominique was strong, as we could tell by her ability to climb the craggy mountains behind us. She walked briskly with us through the thick forest. Something was terribly wrong where she came from and we knew it was better for her to come with us than to go back to wherever her home was. Besides, I knew that Ariori was falling for her, and even if I didn't agree with her joining us, I would have been out voted.

  Babarinde was furious with us for bringing her to our encampment, and he tried to banish her, but Ariori was rebellious and told us all that he would disappear with her forever into the woods if she were banished. Although Baba hated being manipulated in this way, we knew it would probably be best for her safety and ours if she stayed, at least until she learned our language and could tell us what she was running from.

  Over the next few months, Dominique lived with Ariori, first in the hut he shared with several others, then in a hut he built for the both of them. She taught him French; he taught her the Yoruba dialect of our people. They were very much in love and it became apparent that Dominique was with us to stay.

  We learned from her that there were others on Dominica, besides us and the Kalinago. There were, indeed, white people living on the other side of the craggy rocks and dangerous terrain. The French were colonizing Dominica, already harvesting acres of lumber to make way for coffee plantations.

  Dominique's family owned a trading company that was trying to exploit the island's resources for their own financial gain, but because it just wasn't built for the type of agriculture that supported cotton or tobacco, the family was losing money. Dominique's brother was sent to oversee the endeavor; Dominique was allowed to go along for the adventure and to learn the family business.

  As she told us, the Frenchmen were abusing her. She did not say to what extent, but the shame was palpable. She escaped to the beach every day to avoid the Frenchmen that her brother turned a blind eye to. She decided that she would not return when she discovered us.

  Not too much time had passed before Dominique became one of us, through and through. She was properly initiated in all of our religious rites. Ariori asked for her hand in marriage shortly thereafter, and she was made a bride of the Razadi.

  Ariori never drank from her. He only ever drank from the wild boar we caught. His restraint is legendary, even to this day. Dominique knew exactly who and what we were, but had perfect faith that Ariori would not harm her.

  There was one night when the Frenchmen came dangerously close to discovering our village. We knew the day would come when they came for Dominique, but we were prepared. We knew that the beings that had enslaved us were nowhere near and we hoped to never encounter them again. Should we be attacked by any other beings, they would become meals.

  And meals they were. A dozen men came looking for a fight and they got one. The weakest of the men was bound to a tree and forced to watch as all eleven of his fellow men were drained to death by scores of Razadi. If the message given to him by witnessing the carnage was not clear enough, Dominique made it plain to him in their language: "I am safe here, but you are not. Leave and don't return. I am with my people."

  The surviving Frenchman was sent back to their camp. The next morning, we carried the drained bodies on funeral pallets across the island to the fort that the French were constructing. Dominique spoke to her brother for a final time and again warned the French that the Razadi were undefeatable. Her brother consented and left us alone.

  Dominique gave up everything to live among us: her family, her life in France, her immense wealth. I never quite understood why she so readily gave up her lifestyle to be one with ours, but she was still accepted. In time, she would become our matriarch, Mama Dominique, if she wanted.

  Months later, a spy from our village visited the French fort only to discover that it had been abandoned. The French had left Dominica, and both the Kilanago and Razadi could now enjoy true peace. Dominique showed no emotion for the abandonment of the island by her kinfolk. She, too, was content with being alone.

  Months became years and Ariori and Dominique's love only grew, as did her commitment to our people. She learned the ways of a Razadi healer and was indispensable to us when we became injured.

  As would have been the case back in Africa, Dominique and Ariori were unable to conceive a child. It seemed as though whatever issues my people had with reproduction were carried along through our men. Although their love did not waver, it was plain that Dominique was disappointed that their union would produce no heirs.

  Early one morning, a few years after we had landed on Dominica, a ship appeared on the horizon, the first one we'd seen coming toward our cove. Dominique immediately recognized the flags flying on the ship as her family crest. She was annoyed to have to send her family back home as soon as they had come, but she made it plain that they must not stay. Babarinde approved a small team to meet the ship down at the beach along with Dominique: Ariori, Eşusanya, Ogundiya, and me.

  It took us about half an hour to get down to the beach. By that time, two unarmed white men had already rowed a boat from the ship to the shore and were waiting for us.

  Dominique was livid. One of the men greeted her and she slapped him, leaving a red imprint on his face. She immediately cursed him in French, speaking faster and more furiously than I'd ever heard her speak. She pointed in his face and then back at the ship, demanding that he leave. The exchange went on endlessly. Ultimately, the men would not back down.

  Finally, Dominique turned to her husband and explained what was happening.

  "This man is my brother, the same one who traveled with me to this island years ago. Our parents are on the ship and are insisting to see me."

  "Why don't they come off the ship?" Ariori asked.

  "They're afraid, so my brother said."

  "Do you want to see them?"

  "Let's just go and get this over with. I need to make it clear to them that this is my home. Aragbaye, come with us please."

  I agreed without hesitation. Eşusanya and Ogundiya stayed behind on the beach while Ariori and I rowed to the ship with Dominique regally looking on. Her brother and his mate stayed behind as collateral under my brothers' watchful eyes.

  We rowed hard, hoping to get to the ship quickly and then hurry back. Dominique was ready to sever these ties and move on with the rest of her life and we were eager to be rid of the Frenchmen for good.

  We carefully climbed up the rope ladders that the sailors lowered for us. When we reached the top, friendly Frenchmen assisted us over the guardrail.

  With muskets.

  "We should have brought our guns," Ariori hissed at me.

  "We ran out of bullets hunting boar years ago," I said.

  About a dozen Frenchmen had their rifles raised at the three of us in silence. Ariori and I sized them up as we backed against the guardrail of the ship, protecting Dominique with our bodies.

  "Put me in front, they won't shoot me," she demanded.

  "No," Ariori said. "Stay back."

  "Where is my father?" she asked the men in French.

  "Waiting for you in Nice," the leader of the dozen white men said.

  "It's a trap!" Ariori shouted. We bared our fangs and instituted the offensive we hoped we'd never have to use. For as long as we'd been on the island, we knew that guns were out there and we could not fight them unless we had our own. And because we were fundamentally peaceful, we didn't seek out new guns to own. All we wanted was a quiet existence. But we knew a day could come when men with guns would come back for us.

  I charged the men, aiming at their heels, rather than their hearts. We'd need to topple them, then kill them, then
drink them. We could not aim for their heads or their hearts because they would protect those. We had to rely on our most animalistic instincts and tear at their tendons and joints, disabling them.

  In the twinkling of an eye, I took down three of the men. Blood sprayed from their gashes I made in their shins and calves. Ariori did the same, tearing into two of the men.

  In the end, only two shots were fired: one into Ariori's head and one into my shoulder. Dominique screamed as Ariori fell onto the deck of the ship. I continued on, trying to move to Dominique to protect her, but it was too late. The bullet tore into my shoulder from behind and out the front, exiting my body and sailing off into the air above the ocean.

  I stumbled toward the railing, looking at Dominique one last time before the remaining Frenchmen carted her off below deck. Her screams were blood-curdling; they were the wails of grief.

  I toppled over the edge of the ship and plummeted into the ocean. My left arm was practically useless—it was numb, weak, and uncooperative. My right arm and my legs kept me afloat.

  Within seconds, Ariori's body was thrown over the edge, landing ten feet away from me. I swam to him, summoning every nerve I had in my body to make my left arm work again.

  I screamed, pushing my body to the limits, and wrapped my left arm around my brother. The bullet wound was over his right eyebrow and it was open down to the white meat. He wasn't moving, but I could feel his heart still beating.

  I wanted to save Dominique, but I had few options. The Frenchmen had guns. They shot me and Ariori. I wouldn't be able to save us all.

  I swam to the rowboat and threw Ariori in. I took the oars and rowed away from the ship furiously. The Frenchmen aimed their weapons at me but did not shoot any more.

  I left Dominique. Her people had come for her and had probably killed Ariori. My choice was clear. If Ariori survived, he'd be furious with me. If he died, at least we could give him a proper burial.

  The ship raised anchor and began to sail away. As I approached the white men still on the beach with my brothers, I saw the horror creep over their faces.

  "What happened?" Eşusanya asked.

  "They ambushed us. Stole Dominique and shot Ariori!"

  Eşusanya and Ogundiya bared their fangs.

  "No!" Dominique's brother screamed.

  Eşusanya and Ogundiya buried their faces in the necks of the abandoned Frenchmen while I pulled Ariori onto the sand and tried to revive him. I tried to breathe air into his lungs. I pounded his chest. I tried to give him blood from the Frenchmen's corpses. I tried feeding him my own blood. Nothing worked. He was dead.

  Ogundiya stumbled, blood-drunk and anguished, over to his body while I wept over it. He touched my shoulder and sat next to me in silence. We said nothing for an hour as the sun climbed higher in the sky.

  "She never belonged with us," Eşusanya said finally, while sitting in the sand a ways off from us, the blood intoxication finally wearing off.

  "What?" I asked. "Dominique was the love of Ariori's life."

  "A Razadi could never truly love a white devil."

  "Watch your mouth," I said. "And have some respect for the dead."

  "Fuck Dominique. We let Dominique into our village, into our way of life, and it only led to death. Another Razadi with a bullet in his brain, just like in Africa. These people are evil and ruthless. I will never trust one. If I come across more, I can assure you I will be the last thing they see."

  "Dominique wasn't like them," I said.

  "Yes she was! They're all alike! They happily bring death wherever they go. They steal land that doesn't belong to them. They create technology only to conquer and destroy."

  I couldn't argue with him. All I knew was that Dominique really was different. She was one of us. And now she was gone and the love of her life was dead.

  Another hour passed.

  "We need to go back," Ogundiya said.

  "Help me carry him," I asked. My arm was still sore, but healing.

  "No," Ogundiya said. "You rest. I've got him."

  Ogundiya bent down and scooped up Ariori's body in his arms. Immediately, his eyes opened wide in shock.

  "What's wrong?" I asked.

  "He's warm," Ogundiya whispered. "And breathing."

  "What?" I exclaimed.

  "Put him back down," Eşusanya ordered. We knelt over the now-breathing Ariori in the sand.

  "Ariori!" I said firmly. "Wake up. Open your eyes."

  Ariori's eyes fluttered and then clamped shut again as though he was concentrating.

  "Fight, dammit!" Eşusanya shouted.

  I stared at Ariori's head wound. The flesh around it began to contract and the blood evaporated. Before my very eyes, Ariori's body expelled the bullet from his head and healed itself, leaving only a slight dimple behind.

  He inhaled sharply.

  "You're alive!" I exclaimed.

  "Where's Dominique?" he asked, his voice raspy.

  "How are you feeling?" Eşusanya asked.

  "I'm fine. Where is my wife?"

  We fell silent as Ariori scrambled to stand up.

  "Where is Dominique? Where is she? Where is my wife?"

  To this day, I have never seen anguish and despair in the eyes of a man like I saw in Ariori's, on the day we told him he'd never see the love of his life again.

  "So…he really never saw her again?" Justin asked.

  "No, he didn't. The ship had been long gone by the time he woke up. We had no good way to follow them."

  "That's really, really sad," Justin said.

  "Ariori was devastated. He didn't even speak for weeks after that."

  "What did she look like?" Justin asked.

  "I told you, she was-"

  "Show me."

  Justin sat upright and closed his eyes. I clasped his face and brought our foreheads together. Into his mind, I projected the beautiful face of Dominique. Her face was an oval framed by a cascade of curls as brown as freshly turned earth. Her deep brown eyes smiled even when her mouth was curled into a tight frown. Her thin eyebrows curved up in an arch. Her white skin was tanned to a golden brown by the Caribbean sun.

  She reached her long fingers through the fog and touched my face.

  "Je t'aime," she whispered before she disappeared.

  "Whoa," Justin said. "That was vivid."

  "That was Dominique," I said.

  "So tell me…how did she end up in America to found Iota Theta Beta? How did she create this ceremony that makes her sisters beholden to the Razadi?"

  I kissed Justin on the cheek.

  "Another story for another day, mon chéri. Rest up. You'll need it."

  Justin rested his head on his pillow but never closed his eyes. I began to leave.

  "Wait!" he said, sitting upright once more.

  "Yes?" I said.

  "Ariori survived the shooting…a bullet to the head. That means…you know what that means, right? The Razadi who got shot in Africa might still be alive!"

  I smiled and nodded.

  "They could be, indeed…if they had the time to heal. But we'll never know. Those days are long gone."

  Justin nodded, rested his head again, and closed his eyes. As I walked away, I shed a tear for the memory of Dominique Bellanger and the years I'd spent with her, loving her as my sister. And I shed a tear for the dozen Africans that the white men had probably killed with their bullets on the coast of Africa. I had far less hope than Justin that they could still be alive.

  Today, you learn how to fight.

  "Come with me," Victor said as we entered Justin's room a few days later.

  "I'm tired," Justin said. "When do I get to go back to work? It's been too long."

  "You're always tired," Victor taunted. "You want to know why? Because you're fat and lazy."

  "Fuck you."

  "No. Fuck you."

  Victor grabbed the edge of the mattress and flipped it upside down, dumping Justin to the floor.

  "What the fuck is wrong with you?" Justin asked.
Victor leaped over the bed frame and landed at Justin's side.

  "No work for you. Today, you learn how to fight!" Victor beamed.

  Then he backhanded the shit out of Justin.

  "What the fuck, man! Dante, are you just gonna stand there?"

  "Yes," I said. Victor slapped Justin again. His brown face was turning red.

  "Dude! Stop! Dante!"

  "Fight back," I said calmly.

  "I can't beat him," Justin said as he tried to protect his face.

  "Stand up and fight back!" I barked.

  Justin stood up in the corner while Victor got in the defensive stance. He tried to charge through Victor, but Victor moved to the left and Justin careened into the floor.

  I couldn't help but to laugh.

  "You laughing at me now?" Justin asked.

  "Well, you gotta admit it was kinda funny."

  "Fuck you," Justin said. As he tried to walk away, Victor bent his arm backwards. Justin yelped.

  "Fight back!" Victor said, smashing Justin's face into the door.

  Justin groaned.

  "Stop whining!" Victor yelled, pushing Justin with such force that he flew out of the room and tumbled all the way down the stairs.

  At the bottom of the stairs lay Justin's broken body. His arm was clearly out of socket and his knee was bent the wrong way. His head was face down in the shag carpet.

  "Ouch," said Victor.

  "Justin?" I called.

  "Yes," he responded.

  "Get up."

  "I can't."

  "Get up right now!" I shouted.

  Slowly, he slid his thigh across the carpet. He lifted his leg up and popped it leg back into a straight line. He bent it a few times to make sure it worked and then he stood up. As he did, he popped his arm back into its socket.

  There was terrible rug burn on his face, but even as he looked in the hallway mirror, it healed on its own.

  "Wow," he said. I smiled.

  Victor launched himself at Justin again. This time, Justin was ready for him, socking Victor one good time in the jaw and knocking him off balance.