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Jude - Kefen Budji

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164 pages

English

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When strangers invade her village in 1910, young princess Samarah's knowledge of English unwittingly contributes to her capture. Forced into a life of servitude on a plantation far removed from her homeland, Samarah struggles with losing the life and people she had known and loved. Her mother and Bintum - her childhood love who seeks and reunites with her at the plantation- offer a sense of the familiar until tragedy strikes leaving Samarah alone and angry. As the son of Samarah�s employer, Mayne Patterson represents all that has caused pain, misery and uncertainty in Samarah�s life. Mayne is in love with Samarah and will do everything he can to get her. Can Samarah overcome all the hurt and misgivings to see Mayne for who he is and not what he embodies? Torn between the love to whom she is betrothed and her growing attraction to Mayne, Samarah must decide between her heart�s desires and her obligations to her homeland. This debut historical fiction is at once a story of love and identity as it is a portrait of aspects of colonial rule in Africa.

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Fiction

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Publié par	Jude
Date de parution	06 avril 2015
Nombre de lectures	0
EAN13	9781942876038
Langue	English
Poids de l'ouvrage	1 Mo

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Published in 2015
Copyright © Kefen Budji 2015
All rights reserved.
No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, write to the publisher, addressed "Attention: Permissions Coordinator," at the address below.
Spears Media Press
PO Box 1151
Bamenda, NWR,
Cameroon
www.spearsmedia.com
Email: info@spearsmedia.com
Ordering Information:
Quantity sales. Special discounts are available on quantity purchases by corporations, associations, and others. For details, contact the publisher at the address above.
ISBN: 978-1-942876-02-1 [Paperback]
ISBN: 978-1-942876-03-8 [Ebook]
To Mum and Dad, thank you
PART ONE
CHAPTER ONE
1910
"Wake up Samarah, child wake up!" The young girl barely heard her mother’s voice through the fog of sleep. She was dreaming of herself and some play mates, Bintum included, making catapults in the courtyard of the palace. She rolled over and pulled the hand-knitted quilt over her head, but her mother’s voice would not fade away.
"Please, Samarah, don’t sleep. This is not time to sleep!" Samarah stirred, forced her eyes open and focused them on her mother. The next second, she sprang from the grass bed and watched in growing alarm as her mother flung things here and there, picking bits of cloth up, and discarding them without so much as a glance. She could hear the ‘Tum, Tum, Tum’ sound of the Kinton, the talking drum, as it went on and on. Something was very wrong. Nobody played that drum. Not even the Chief himself could order the playing of this particular drum, except in dire situations.
"Bwan, what is wrong?" Samarah had never seen her mother this frantic. Her mother turned to face her. Samarah could just about make out her mother’s face in the dim light emanating from the fireplace, but weren’t those tears glistening in her eyes? Her mother never cried. She always said tears were for the weak.
"The white men, child!" Samarah’s eyes opened wider.
"Where? Here?"
"Just hurry. Don’t stand there so! There isn’t time. Here, tie your loincloth. Hurry!" Her mother finally put a small bundle together, and she assisted Samarah to tie her loincloth over her budding breasts so that it went right down to her knees. Then with the bundle in one hand and Samarah’s palm in the other, she rushed out of the hut. Samarah had never seen so much commotion before. People ran helter-skelter. Panic filled the air. Mothers sobbed as they held their screaming babies to their breasts and gathered their other children around them. Very few men could be seen.
"Where is Baa?" Samarah asked. Her mother pulled her through the confused crowd till they passed through the courtyard, and reached the reception hut – the biggest of all the huts, which was built in front of the other five huts that formed a cluster, and made up the palace. Two Nchindas with their dark colour glistening in the moonlight, quickly made way for mother and child to pass.
A fire burnt brightly in the fireplace of the hut, illuminating the bamboo chairs and the ten or so sub chiefs occupying them. A tall man who wore the skin of a monkey on his back and a short loin cloth around his waist had his back to them. Samarah’s hand shook in her mother’s. She knew that under normal circumstances, no woman was allowed into the hut if the men (and not just men, sub chiefs!) had a meeting, except she had been summoned. It did not matter if the queen and princess wanted to see the Chief. They would just have to wait.
"Bwan, Baa will be very angry with us." The man who stood by the fire place heard Samarah’s whisper and turned round, his arms opening wide. Samarah ran across and over the mats on the floor to him. He bent down to wrap her in his arms, as his eyes sought his wife’s.
"Listen, my child, you must leave at once with your mother." The sub chiefs averted their eyes. Samarah’s eyes met her father’s.
"Why, Baa? What is happening? Is it true that the white men are coming?"
"Yes, child. The Jaman people are on their way here."
"What do they want?"
"You won’t understand." She buried her face in his chest.
"Then we’ll stay with you, Baa." The Chief used his forefinger on Samarah’s chin to tilt her head upward so that he could look directly into her eyes.
"No, go with your mother and protect her."
"Bo Ntow (My Lord)." Samarah’s mother murmured. At once, the sub chiefs stood up and trooped out of the hut. The Chief rose to his full height and looked at his young wife.
"Take care of our child." He said as the reflection of the fire blazed in his eyes. She ran into his arms and clung to her husband, with their only child between them.
"Bo Ntow, please, come with us." She pleaded as she buried her face in the crook of his neck.
"You know Yenla that I cannot do this thing you are asking. The Chefwa people are known for their courage, and it would be wrong for me to abandon my people. Our people say it is a coward who hides underneath his wife’s loincloth." Yenla sobbed into his neck. His hand came up to cradle her hair. "Where is my tigress, my daring and fearless woman? What happened to my enchantress who stood firm in the face of any adversity?"
"She fell in love." The queen sobbed. She leaned back to see his face. "You are the first person they should protect. You are the Chief."
"Woman! Would I be worthy of that title if I deserted my people in their time of need? Listen, Yenla, do as I say. Take this child to safety." As he spoke his hand touched her stomach, "He will grow up strong like his sister and mother." He concluded.
"On the condition that you promise to come back to me. Promise me!" The Chief held his weeping wife away from him.
"I am but a man. Giving or taking of life depends on the gods." He looked at her for a second longer and then engulfed her and Samarah in a warm embrace.
"Ahem. May we come in?" A voice called from outside. Samarah’s mother stepped away as the Chief asked the sub chiefs to come in. The two Nchindas accompanied them. The Chief gave orders for them to take all the women and children as far from Chefwa as they could. Samarah’s mother removed a bead-and-cowry necklace necklace from around her neck and fastened it around his.
"This was the first gift you gave me when you began courting me. It is my wish that you give it to me again when we meet." Samarah was surprised to hear her mother’s voice so firm, and was still more shocked to see that no tears flowed from her eyes any more. She however sensed that this was probably a painful moment for Yenla. The Chief embraced both of them again, and then stepped back and gave his back to them.
"Now go." Heaving a sigh as quietly as she could, Yenla, queen of the Chefwa people took her daughter’s hand and without looking back, walked out of the hut.
The commotion had reduced considerably. The women and children had already formed a small group, with about twenty men who would protect them. As Samarah and her mother headed towards them, Samarah heard someone calling her name. She stopped and turned round. Her face softened into a smile as Bintum came to her. He was three years older than she was. He was the son of one of the sub chief who happened to be her father’s best friend. Samarah knew that she had been betrothed to him at birth, even though she hardly ever thought of marriage. At this moment, all she knew was that he was her best friend, and would one day be her husband, whatever the second part meant. She pulled her hand from her mother’s and ran to him.
"Are you going with us?" She asked.
"Shh, not so loud." He whispered. "Father says I should go because he thinks that I am a child, but I am not a child. I am fifteen. See how tall I am."
Samarah, who was a lot shorter, nodded solemnly.
"What will you do?"
"I’ll pretend to leave with you. Then I’ll find a way to sneak back and fight for our people."
"Spoken like a true prince." Samarah had heard that expression used by her mother before and she thought it would be a good reply to what Bintum had said. Following her mother’s example, she removed a much simpler necklace, made of twine and one cowry, and wore it around Bintum’s neck. Then she ran to join the others before he could say anything.
The group left the palace through a bamboo side-gate, and took a path which passed through the little forest. The undergrowth loomed in the dark like some fence or hedge which could slow them down, or protect them, depending on how one decided to look at it. The men asked everyone to be quiet. From time to time, a baby cried.
As she trudged along with the others, Samarah could hear the hooting of owls and the chirping of crickets. These were familiar sounds, sounds she had heard ever since she was born. They were comfortable sounds. She could relate to them, could understand that there was still some level of ‘normality’ around. She made a mental note to tell Bintum when they came back where they both could hunt for crickets. Occasionally, she heard some rustling in the bushes and imagined snakes crawling all over