Aziza took out her crown two nights after Juhudi’s visit. The man Juhudi spoke of would be visiting the main land in two moons. Like Juhudi, she could smell his spirit every moonlight, the waves were stronger and the ocean, once peaceful was in distress. Juhudi’s flute and songs could not calm them.
She polished the crown as the black veil she had worn all this time turned into ashes right outside her hut. If they were to protect the girl, she had to summon her strength, she had to wear the crown of her people.
It was time to go back to the ocean, to part the waters with every step as she made her way to the bottom where her people, now, believed she’d gone mad.
Oh, how beautiful and free the mad were!
Who knew that she would be here, on this land, on the coast, protecting such a little omen from herself? Swazuri, why did her mother give her such an odd name? She was vengeance wrapped in innocence. The girl born among men, a vessel for the goddess of vengeance, set to walk upon the land centuries after she had been destroyed by the goddess of the ocean.
She looked at the heena pattern in her hand and rose to twirl around the room. A Queen. She was Queen and her time had come.
Mshika mbili, moja humponyoka.
Her mother’s words floated to her mind. She had a mission and that was to protect the girl from the man who was coming, but even then, she could not stand in the way of destiny. Swazuri was the goddess Ghadhabu, literally meaning ‘Wrath,’ and those who came before her only spoke of her in hushed tones. They said that though of noble birth, the goddess changed her ways when the man she loved left her for her sister, the goddess of the ocean. Aziza refused to believe it.
Of course, if she loved a man as much as Ghadhabu loved her man, then she would break under the burden of such betrayal, but it was not sufficient for such a turnaround.
However, Aziza held one truth, she believed in exacting revenge.
Oh, how she twirled, loved and cherished justice- but the mortals, the mere men who graced the land at the Coast were too weak to know the power that came with such rage! Oh, how she wished they’d stop saying “yote kwa Mola,” and take matters into their hands, and besides, Juhudi would stop being so patient with the girl and start training her on how to fight.
She was about to shut her door when a shadow filled her presence and when she turned, there she was, Swazuri.