Over Him ✔

|Chapter Thirty-Eight|

SO FAR our family vacation was going pretty well and as for Colt and I, we were still in a euphoric level. Neither of us had said anything to our parents or even Cherry since we didn't feel like they had to know just yet.

We wanted to do things at our own pace not because everyone expected us to. A part of me wanted to see their reaction as soon as possible but knowing the possibilities of them meddling in our lives after the news would hit them was a constant reminder not to rush into it.

As I slid my hands over the pages of the book I'd taken with me into the rental bus, the gold plated ring shines under a small ray of light penetrating from the tinted window.

Today we were heading to the local villages to go sight seeing and surprisingly, I was looking forward to it. Cherry had taken her camera along with her and a video camera. When asked why she wasn't going to just use her phone, she'd talked about how she wanted to make it into a short film for Xavier when she got home.

The villages in Zanzibar were quite...local. Little houses made out of bricks lined the sides of the streets, rusted zincs covered the tops. Our tour guide, Mr.Baraka was seated in front next to Dave who was driving the car, following the directions.

Mr.Baraka was quite a tall man, inching a bit closer to Colt in height, with dark ebony skin, a bald head and a full beard. Whenever he spoke I would feel shivers run up and down my spine. He always sounded serious and didn't look like he could ever laugh to a joke but somehow my father seemed to be relating pretty well with him.

Sometimes he'd say something in Swahili and my dad who'd studied Swahili while growing up would laugh and respond in English. Neither of us understood what Baraka was saying but his occasional smiles seemed reassuring. At least one of us could understand him.

As we pulled up in front of what looked like a local resort, I see a couple other rental cars parked around, people trooping out of the car. Wherever we were, it seemed to be a pretty popular place considering the number of people that were here.

The villagers, who were mostly women and little children stared on, their gazed fixed squarely at us as we stepped out of our rental bus, Baraka following behind us.

"Right this way." We follow behind him and past a group of people who were mostly whites. As we approached the middle of the circle, I begun to grow intrigued as the sound of grunts and moans became clearer.

Right in the middle of a spacious circle were two black men, both completely shirtless, fighting. Their bodies, especially their backs, covered in dust from the earth as their movement shook the loose particles of sand, mixed with sweat.

Not too long after we'd made our way to the front did the bigger man grab his opponent and toss him to the ground. The impact is scary but everyone else seems to be intrigued.

"This is a traditional wrestling match which the locals engage in for the visitors who come by every year." Baraka goes on to explain how wrestling matches like this were very popular in Africa as it was one of the ways by which young men gained wives for themselves.

I stared on as another set, two men younger than the last two men, enter the circle and continue to fight. Some of the visitors throw money at them but the men don't pay any attention to it, their attention solely pinned on their opponents.

The man who'd won the last fight approaches us and it's only when he's close enough do I see the scar on his cheek. From the looks of it, it's a very old one and I was pretty sure it had been a very deep cut.

Baraka turns to the man and shakes hands with him. "This is my younger brother, Anga. He's one of the best wrestlers in the community and he's regarded as a local champion around here."