The Seed of the Forbidden Fruit

The Seed of the Forbidden Fruit

The new Queen Mother of the Kingdom of Kwasa finally emerged from the sea in full view of a nation that was on pins and needles. At long last, the gods had heard their laments. After eight long barren years. 

The preceding night had gone from normal to spiritual beach celebrations in a split second. A sudden mood change that had been promoted by the appearance of the Blue Moon.

It marked the Coronation of the new king.

“It’s the time!” A relieved blind Soka exclaimed at the restoration of his sight, before uttering a silent prayer of gratitude to the gods. Stepping outside of his hut, he watched with great admiration the ecstatic horde. His blindness had been a cinch to comprehend because he was an aged man. He had served the Kwasa royalty as the chief advisor of the late King Msasa III.  

A messenger of the gods had shown up to both him and the late king, on the morning of the king’s death. His health had been declining despite the devout efforts of his traditional doctors. The best in the land. He lay helplessly on his deathbed, with contrition written on his face as he took in the message. 

“No amount of blood or tears will ever cleanse you or this nation of the shame that you have brought upon it. Not only did you bring great agony upon yourself, but also to your people.” The messenger spoke wrathfully. He paused for a moment and turned to Soka. In a ringing voice, he added, “A suffering that will end when your sight returns.” Soka immediately went blind simultaneously with the king’s draw of his last breath. The sun dimmed out, and great wailing filled the kingdom. Unbearable mourning that lasted for almost a decade. 

Soka, setting out for the royal palace, now beamed with delight as he passed the crowds; at just how they had come full-circle.

A deafening sound of a trumpet at the crack of dawn ended the people’s celebrations and began the royalty preparations for the big night. A custom that compelled the rest of the nation to stay indoors until sunset.

The royalty elders led the late king’s twelve firstborn sons into the sea for cleansing rituals.

The end of these rituals was marked by the sound of the sunset trumpet. A sound that one could never be fully prepared for. It always unzipped a bag of mixed emotions. The sorrowful end of an era, and the joy of an emerging one. Literally.

The commoners flocked behind the royal family and servants. They all stood a stone’s throw from the twelve princes who were flanked by their wives and children. Gazing into the sea that sparkled from the brightness of the normal full moon, the nation anxiously awaited.

Finally, the gods released her. The new mother of the Kwasa nation. Her blonde Natty Congo Bongo locked head was first to surface. Her long locks ran past her reddish face, over her breasts, and all the way to her knees. Covering her nakedness. The blue, sparkling water reflected on the parts of her skin that were left uncovered. 

The mood instantly dampened, and utter confusion filled the atmosphere.

A lull that was broken by an extremely disturbed elder of the royals. “Abomination!” he exclaimed, as everyone muttered all kinds of speculations.

“An outcast!”

“Which one is her seed?”

The joy of the nation seemed to have been short-lived. Their last scraps of hope in their gods had just been snatched away. Maybe the night was not for beholding the crowning of a new king as they had believed. Maybe it was a night of closure from the gods. They could not help but think.

Succession to the Kwasa Throne was determined by the new Queen Mother. A Crown only inherited by the seed of her womb. The line of succession was created by the firstborn sons of the late king, and their mothers were assassinated right after their birth. 

However, the confusion at the shore was interrupted by the Queen Mother’s first step towards it. Everyone, except the twelve Princes, abandoned the shore. While the elderly fled to the chairs, the youth ran for the hammocks and the trees. Those who could, climbed as high as the fronds, leaving room for the remaining few who tightly hugged the stems with their arms and legs.

A literal grave affair.

She only shares the shore with her son; the new king.

Her thick, yet muscular thighs could not be missed as she drew closer. The red sole of her right foot touched the shore; the moment everyone had waited for with bated breath.

All twelve Princes were snatched up to the sky and transformed into big bright twinkling stars.

If anyone still harbored some residue of hope in the future of the kingdom, it was all lost in this moment. A moment that was conversely stolen by a loud scream of someone falling from one of the trees.

It was Soka’s nephew, Siza. A young man in his mid-thirties who had been adopted at birth by his uncle, Soka, and now late wife. His mother, Soka’s younger sister, had suffered maternal death.  

He landed on the shore, after he lost his balance on the tree he was on when he spotted a snake that was wrapped around one of its fronds. Although he was just another face in the crowd, the people still strongly commiserated with how ruthlessly the gods had chosen to seal his fate. He was on the shore with the Queen Mother, even a new-born baby could predict his lot.

But he survived. A startling surprise. 

The cat was finally out of the bag. The late King’s illegitimate love affair with an outcast had been unveiled. This is what people living with albinism were called in the Kingdom of Kwasa, and the reason for their gruesome killings. As well as the reason behind the late King Msasa III, and the Kwasa nation’s suffering.

Standing at the center of a born-fire circle, where the Coronation took place, the Queen Mother held out her hand to her baffled son.

With his heart in his mouth, he took a few steps towards her but stopped just when he was close enough to reach it. He turned back and looked at his uncle. A lot passed between them. A moment sealed by Soka’s smile as he gave him an approving nod. Nodding back, Siza proceeded to join his hand with hers, and a great thunder and lightning boomed. He was, without the shadow of a doubt, the chosen one. The impassioned nation huddled around the born-fire circle.

The Queen Mother of Kwasa lay on the beach sand, on her back, holding her son’s right ankle with her left hand.

Soka placed the Royal Crown on the new King’s head, and fireworks went off. Loud shouts of joy, hugs, and cheers of the elated nation followed.  

The new King of Kwasa looked down to his mother who fixed a stern gaze on the stars in the sky.

The End!