Queen of Africa: Journey of a Lifetime

Morning in the Savannah

A cock crowed in the distance as the orange morning light streamed through the cracks and crevices of the mud walls. Malaika, snapped herself out of the world of dreams and back to the present. She allowed herself to have a few seconds of quiet contemplation on her strange dream. Five....What was the dream about? Four... Who was the mysterious man, her father? Three...What had he meant by, "fulfill your destiny"... Two..."breathe, calm down Malaika" she told herself, "you can do this"....one...

Her eyes opened to the blurriness of the single, mud walled room she and her family called "home". The hard ground pushed against her back and the palm of her hand as she willed herself off her the back breaking, hard ground and onto her feet. The cold from the rough mud ground seeped through her toes and sent a shiver up her spine.
Well, back to the usual grind. Groggily, she forced herself toward the doorway covered in a crimson cloth with intricate detailing of green, orange and various colors. Past this doorway, lay beyond, a world full of wonder.

Stepping outside, she watched as the sun's yellow rays peeked through the brown, majestic hills in the distance. The faint sounds of cattle and trees rustling in the early morning wind not only reminded her of the life she lived in but filled her with a feeling of determination. Determination to find a better life, away from the cattle and into what she had always loved, learning.
"Malaika!", came a shout from another not too far from her own. It was her mother. "Daydreaming again aren't you! Foolish girl. A scattered mind will take you nowhere. Come here you have breakfast to make!". Snapped out of her thoughts, she quickly scampered, barefooted, to the source of the sound. Her mother had always been a widowed, respectful, humble yet strict and hardworking woman. She was the very embodiment of a perfect housewife in our culture. With 8 children, and her in-laws to care for, her life was a constant cycle of cooking, cleaning and caring for the young ones as well as the elders. Of course she had the help of her older children and her in-laws but at times the work seemed to be overwhelming. A plump, dark skinned iron-fisted woman is what she was.
Patience was not a quality of hers and Malaika knew this. Quickly, she snapped out of her thoughts and scuttled towards the blackened mud hut. Inside, was her mother, tending to the fire that would cook our breakfast. On her face was a look of pure joy.
"I have good news. You know how Hamisi paid us a visit last week?", she asked. I nodded in agreement remembering when the middle aged, beer bellied man lumbered into our compound. He was one of the richest men in our village, getting money from his plentiful crops. Unfortunately he had a reputation for having a problem staying away from young women. "Yes mama, I remember".

"He came to discuss about having your hand in marriage and yesterday we accepted". Oh God.