"Hikahaha, look at you now, a bloody mess. I expected more from humans, but this? Is this all your planet offers for a royal of Aki?!"
A massive foot kicked a bleeding man to the other side of the arena, the roar of the unseen crowd reverberated, while the bodies of enslaved humans watched from the stands of the Planetary Colosseum, all emotionless, all silent. He laid curled sickly in the dust, clutching his pain-numb stomach. His ears rang, the drumming of his heartbeat echoed louder than the roar and cheer. Blood embraced him as a warm blanket, flowing from his severed right arm, the pain still fresh. The figure smirked, lowering the raised foot slowly into a saunter, before condescendingly reproaching the fallen man, saying,
"See, this is where you belong, at my feet, and the feet of the Aki, you and your kind. So stay there, you fool, for the Aki have had no match since our rule began, and we have yet to see our end. So surrender to me, and I will make you a man above a slave, yes, you shall be my foot servant, and where I go there you will be to wash my feet."
"No, I cannot," the man said, pushing himself off the floor, his bruised left arm quivering with fatigue.
The tall figure laughed, spreading his long grey arms wide, shouting to the crowd,
"He says 'He cannot'."
The hidden crowd chuckled, but soon gasped in surprise, making the figure turn around. His alabaster white hair whipped across his face, unveiling eyes of fury towards the hunched man, roaring in frustration,
"HOW! HOW CAN YOU STILL STAND! YOU SHOULD BE DEAD! YET YOU STILL INSIST TO DEFY ME, A DEITY."
The man snickered weakly, saying,
"I will not die, but live."
He then dipped his index finger into his open wound, before marking his head with a crucifix. It was then that he felt breath fill his lungs, before exalting,
"I AM, IS WITH ME! CHRIST, MY LORD, IS HERE! SO, I WILL NOT DIE, BUT LIVE!!!"
***1 Year earlier***
"Please provide your Full name, and student number."
"M-my name is Lyle Vermont. My student number is-"
A chill ran through his spine when he could not remember his student card number, then another when he realised he could not find his card. After searching everywhere on his person, he felt his lanyard around his neck, then the card case at the end. Breathing brief relief, he cleared his throat, before taking it out and reading,
"Uhm, ST-2705291911817"
The man stabbed the keys of his keyboard with the credentials, each strike, a blade against the student's mind. The monitor suddenly turned, making the student flinch up, an academic report glowing on the screen. A sigh left the man, who turned to the student and said plainly,
"Do, you, have an idea about what, you, want for, your, future, Mr. Vermont?"
The student did not answer, but, in truth, did not know how.
Another tired sigh left him, and he continued,
"I don't have to tell you that you won't make it this year and seeing as you are a second-time repeating First-Year student, perhaps Marine Biology is not your calling."
The student's heart raced cold, and mind scrambled, searching for answers before the storm. Eyes shifted nervously and finally rested on a plaque with a crucifix on the side, that read,
"The way, the truth, and the life."
Lyle looked down with a frown, his breath easing, while his mind still pondered, before mumbling,
"I don't understand."
"Pardon?"
He shook his head defeated, and the man continued, saying,
"As you know, it was your mother who made recommendations for you, and will be notified of this record."
He shuddered at the thought, his limbs drained from helplessness. They exchanged farewells before he left, walking down the lonely corridor, which felt colder than usual. Other students passed him, but their laughter and joy were far off. Words flew around: 'Party', 'End of Semester', 'Tonight'. Each word repeated itself from somewhere, but held little value at the moment. He kept his focus to the ground, looked up now and then for bearings, sometimes clearing his throat while doing so, but even that was done with discretion. Sweet smells closed in, and pairs of fluttering laughter were heard. Two beauties would soon pass by, and they did. Both spoke English, but with flavoured accents, one of sweet chomie-pap, the other of fragrant rooibos tea. He turned his head away from them, not out of disgust, but as a poor attempt to hide his blush. They passed him by, their tone shifting to disappointment, but his sweet imagination churned with delight, until it stopped in bitter remembrance. Continuing to the parking lot, he found his way to the side of the road, his head lifting up slightly before drifting into thought, and his feet into habit. Possibilities raced through his mind and hypotheticals that gave dopamine solutions, the only way he knew to pull himself away from his reality. His steps lead him to a more emptier parking lot, where a large arm suddenly came from behind him and pulled him under, pressing his nose deep into an armpit. A thick and bitter musk brought puff-puff ode nostalgia, his nose recalling its owner.
"Hey, Vuyo," Lyle mumbled, his voice dampened.
"O'boy," a strong voice said.
The arm released him, fresh air mixing with the remaining musk as it rushed in, Lyle wiping the sweat from his face with his shirt.
"Ow, how did you know it was me, ah?"
Turning to see him, Lyle was reminded just how tall he was. Seeing this 8th man giant, made him recall high school Saturday Rugby Derby's(Saturday Winter Inter-High Games). The crowd cheered for the First Team (Best team in the school for that sport category), and the girls cried out for Vuyo. Some cried before the game, most during the game, and others secretly after. Many games were won, many relationships lost, and many mothers made, all hushed with father's money. Many men hated one, while others defended the lad, even Lyle. This must be discrimination, no xenophobia, even racism, until he too found the reason why.
"Yeah, O'boy, still first year, ah."
"How did you...yes I am."
"Ow, you stress, don't stress. Baba (Dad) said: ' We all walk our own paths in life, and some are longer than others.'"
Lyle acknowledged with a quiet scoff.
"He also said: 'However, if you know a path where you can run ahead, take it'"
"Is this the part where I say 'e seun, Baba' (Thank you, father)?"
Vuyo laughed, and so did Lyle, remembering this saying being repeated over and over by both Vuyo, and his father.
"O, let me show you my girlfriends, before I forget" Vuyo said.
"Wow, using plural so casually,"
"Yeah, look at them."
Two ladies bloomed from behind him, crème et chocolat. They stood on display, both bodacious, but one more than the other. Their torn clothes disguised price for poverty, and left imagination starved, making Lyle avert his gaze. This, however, made chivalry an offence, a sparked disgust that made both bodacious beauties waddle back and forth, but it was the least bodacious first to speak, her accent like blue cheese, saying,
"Bae-ah, wahisi beeng soh meenah?"
Lyle, nearly answering the question, was interrupted by another protest.
"Yee-ah, baybi, hehi's making fuhn ohf ahs," she said, her accent like sour amasi.
"Ah, Lyle," Vuyo said, not pleased with what he heard," why are you like this? So rude, ah, that's why you can't keep a girl, mhmm."
"No, I, uh-"
The wind changed, and Lyle caught a whiff of the girls, and their scent, the smell of watered down rose water mixed with body sweat and musk, the same from that night. His memories turned bitter, and so did he, before lowering his chin and walking away.
Not understanding the change in attitude, Vuyo, called out in surprise at Lyle's brazeness, saying,
"Eh, Lyle. Ah? Lyle, Apologize! Ey? Ah? Is he? This boy, yoh-yoh. Lyle!"
Words did not reach him, for his mind was already three years ago at a party. This did not please Vuyo, such a thing his 8th man's ego could not take, and Lyle did not hear his charging steps, nor his frustrated attitude growing. He did, however, feel himself being pulled back. First, weightless, beholding blues skies and the blinding sun, then, impact, into the hard asphalt, which rattled him with cold numbness. Still dazed, Lyle helplessly watches as a Kolo blocked out the sky, saying
"Who do you think you are, boy."
In his swirling mind, Lyle chuckled and said,
"Not a Bolo like you."
This surprised Vuyo, but snickered, saying,
"Think you a man now, ah? I'll show you what a real man is."
"I need the law!"
"Shut up!"
"No you!" a strong elegant voice said, followed by a strong pause.
The wind changed, and a scent of vanilla and apple-strawberry reached Vuyo, making him wince in frustration. His eyes tightened and his nose crinkled revealing gnashing teeth, saying,
"Damn, Ice Queen."
He then stood up, taking a deep breath before putting on his best smile, saying,
"My, dear Ice Queen, I-"
" 'My Dear'? Me? Have you forgotten who you are speaking to or do you need a reminder?"
The girlfriends turned to see who was speaking so boldly to their man, but when they saw who spoke, they remained silent, one even bowing her head timidly. This both surprised and annoyed Vuyo, as he turned to face her again. Black cone heels dressed with slender olive ankles, decorating the hem of her black linen skirt. The odd breeze would hint at her graceful curves, while her slender waist was well known. Her wine-red long sleeve glowed in the winter sun, with her beige jacket folded over her left arm, her free hand gripping her tilted waist. A breeze picked up as the winds changed direction, her fine Cleopatra bangs fluttering ever so slightly, revealing her confronting hazel eyes and high cheekbones. Her heels knocked the asphalt with each step, the sound ringing trauma for Vuyo, now stepping back. She stopped close enough to not raise her voice, yet, when her eyes looked at Lyle on the floor, then at the one who placed him there, she seethed and yelled in anger,
"Who do you think you are, Vuyo?"
Vuyo laughed nervously, his eyes meeting those from the drawing crowd, saying,
"Com now, ah, we were jus playing games, ah-O'boy."
However, when he turned, he noticed that she was on the phone, saying,
"Yes, hello, is this campus protection service, I would like to report assault-"
Murmurs hummed, some running from the crowd to spread the news, but Vuyo laughed loudly, despite her still being on the phone, saying,
" You! You joke too much Ice Queen. We 'ere kidding, ah."
She put her phone on loud speaker and a voice of a mama was heard, saying,
"...thank you for sending us your location, we are sending you a squad car now, dear."
"Enkosi (Thank you), mama," she said, her eyes still fixed on Vuyo before the call ended.
Vuyo's blood ran cold as the murmurs grew louder, before mustering any remaining courage, saying,
"Y-You always take things too fah, but I know it's because of this," he said, pinching his skin.
The crowd objected and ridiculed him for the remark, but she just scoffed, saying,
"No, Vuyo. The fact that you are pointing at your colour for sympathy and to hide your injustice. You shame your countrymen, who have integrity, and may the founders of Nigeria weep for this one. What's worse, is that you are not even a grant student (students on government issued student loan), your father is paying for tuition."
This made the crowd's disapproval deepen, and those who were grant students cried out insults and shame, but Vuyo stared them all down, because his stature was still great, before turning back to her, gritting his teeth, saying,
"You. Dare. Dishonour. My. Heritage."
"You spit on your heritage, may the elders of your people discipline you." she yelled.
He huffed and puffed, hunching his back while shaking, as if trying to restrain his temper, making the crowd murmur. He then stopped before mumbling something,
"What was that? Look me in the eyes when you speak to me, Vuyo"
He did, and his eyes were beginning to redden with rage, and spoke through clenched teeth, saying,
"I. Will make, sure. Baba hears this. Then he will-"
"Still clinging to Baba. Ow, Mumu," she said, cutting him off.
Seething with rage, he raised up with a clenched fist. However, he soon stopped when he heard sirens getting closer, his raised hand falling to his side. All his rage vanished, and only terror remained. So, he fled the scene, leaving many onlookers bursting in laughter and mockery, his girlfriends waddling in panic after him. A car with a logo that read 'GUPS' drove up to the scene, the print underneath read 'Gqeberha (*click*-beh-*xhosa 'rha' sound*) University Protection Service'. At this point the crowd size was great, but were soon dispersed by patrolling campus security officers who were called in, allowing the vehicle to park nearby. A plump mama officer was the first to leave the squad car, before jogging-a-jive toward the caller, who waved at her. Two male officers, one tall and one short, then followed out the front two-seater passenger side of the vehicle, accompanying the mama who told them to assist Lyle, and they did. Lyle, who was still trying to stand, was lifted by the two officers, and taken to the squad car, the tall one informing the short one that he was going to look around for the attacker. After he had left, the small one went into the passenger side of the squad car, where he opened the cabinet and pulled out a warm bottle of water, handing it to Lyle, saying,
"Are you alright, seh(sir)."
"Yes, thank you, and how are you," Lyle asked, closing his eyes and shaking his head with embarrassment.
"Yeah, I'm good, man. You took a beating, but survived. We can only thank God nothing worse happened."
"Yeah," Lyle said reluctantly, playing with the warm bottle.
"Just stay here at the vehkil (vehicle), and remain calm."
Lyle sighed with a nod, as his gaze turned to the one who called for help, the mama taking notes on her tablet of all the testimony she gave, other bystanders helping with their testimonies as well. Soon the mama walked back with her to the squad car, her elegant stride drawing any to look, even the male officer, who was reprimanded by the mama officer with a gentle smack of her tablet. Lyle was the only one who turned his gaze away, scolding himself, saying,
"Chit. Forgot she would be arriving today."
After more questions, and the return of the tall officer, who could not find the culprit, the mama thanked the two students for their cooperation, and said a line that sounded scripted, basically assuring that they will find the one responsible. The squad car finally left, and there was stillness again. Still holding the warm bottle, Lyle sighed before continuing to his car, new pain his companion, as he scoffed at old days. Memories flashed before him of a similar situation in high school, where the Head Girl called for teachers to break up a fight between him and Vuyo, and Vuyo getting suspended for a lack of wit. Her tongue was her sword, and the adults feared her for it, for she sparred with sound arguments. When she spoke, she would gesture with elegant hands, all who saw witnessed, especially at every assembly, and her speeches moved the hearts of students and teachers. Her words, however, were not the only elegance about her, and the boys knew this, because of her natural beauty. She hardly wore makeup, and the girls despised her, and every third guy did their best to keep an image of her in their minds until they reached the quiet of their rooms, releasing their secret feelings. Many confessed to their groups, but none dared try to confess to her, lest they die of rejection and social ridicule. Even the famous men, those who had girls quivering, would quiver themselves when trying to ask her on a date. O how they mourned the day she matriculated (graduated), and even harder when they heard she was leaving for the States. So, many questions came to Lyle thereafter, and much he had to endure in those two final years of High-School when they found out. He scoffed again, as he unlocked the car door, and baked air rushed into his face. He rolled down his window, then the opposing rear window, before placing his bag on the back seat, finally sitting still in the driver's seat, leaving the door open.
"Sorry I'm only getting here now, I was on a call," a familiar voice spoke.
"Mmm," he said, closing his door, before resting his sore head on the headrest, clasping his tired eyes.
The passenger side door opened, and a fragrance of vanilla and strawberry-apple waltzed into his nose, making Lyle turn to see dancing Cleopatra dreads, a linen black dress shifting as she took her bag off her shoulders, and placing it next to his.
"Why are you so quiet?," she said.
However, when she looked up she was met with a quizzical gaze.
"What?"
"Aren't you supposed to be getting a lift from a DriveU."
"I was, but I, uh, I...c-cancelled, yeah. I cancelled the ride."
"Why?"
"J-Just drive, please."
Lyle sighed and reaching for the ignition, said,
"As the Queen commands."
"STOP!" She yelled.
Lyle jolted with surprise, and turned to face her, ready to release his pent up frustration. However, he was met with her posture slouched, her hands gripping her dress, and her dreads hiding her face. Shuddering shoulders made Lyle's drop, as he leaned back in his seat to ponder.
"Not you, Lyle. Anyone else I can tolerate calling me that, but not you."
Her tone had changed, the confidence he saw earlier was not there, but was replaced with a lonely plea. He understood this reaction, though he did not see any line before, he had surely crossed one. Sighing, he knocked his head gently on the wheel of the car, before saying,
"I'm sorry."
He then turned and looked into her puffy eyes, continuing,
"I won't call you that name again, Magena."
He smiled at her, but she turned away from him, making him shrug with indifference, not knowing she was hiding hers with reddened cheeks.
"This takes me back, every time I apologize, you turn your face from me," he said, scratching at his head, "but everything would always be okay afterwards. You really haven't changed have you."
"I-I have," she sniffed, trying her best to hide calming herself, moving here, checking there, looking in the mirror, till her cheeks had finally returned to their original colour.
"Are you done?" he said, with furled brows.
Still keeping the act, she made herself comfortable and reached for the safety belt, strapping herself in, saying,
"A-aren't you starting the car."
Lyle clicked his tongue in annoyance before starting the car, saying,
"Sure thing, sis."