"Who are you? What are you doing on my front porch threatening me?" Yasmin held her head up strong yet internally tried to stop her nimble fingers from shaking on the door frame. Her heart was racing by the second.
"You're Yemoja, right?" The mystery man with the ragged brown and gold locks projected, raising his right eyebrow; an eyebrow that etched a cut scar in between the hairs. His eyes were just as golden with specs of silver in them, intensifying his glare on her.
It seemed as if he already knew the answer and that he didn't need any other confirmation. Which scared Yasmin even more. He was quite handsome, but he was creeping her out to no end. He was convinced that he knew her and he wasn't turning away to knock on another person's door any time soon.
"No. That's not my name. Goodbye," Yasmin said quickly and started to close the door little by little. She feared that the man was going to get a better guess at her name if she let him try again. He was kind of close, yet 'Yemoja' was definitely not it, though. She was about to close it completely, eyes looking anywhere else but his face. She was nonviolent and nonthreatening, so if this man pushed her to do something out of her comfort zone, she wouldn't forgive herself. She wanted to avoid the whole situation together and make herself as small as possible and shrink away into her home. But the man spoke again.
"You go by many names: Mami Wata, Yemonja, Yemaya, Yemoja, African Goddess of the Sea, Mother of the Yoruba Tribe, Protector of Women, Children, and Fishermen. You are the equivalence of the Virgin Mary. You've born no children, yet you have raised many. You can cure infertility, even. You are seen as a major water deity in West African Yoruban religion and a sea goddess mermaid in Brazil and Cuba. The myth says that when your water broke, it caused a great flood, creating our rivers and streams-"
"Okay, okay, can you stop it already! I get it, thanks. Like I've told you before that is not my name and I certainly haven't born or raised any kids. And a goddess? Where are you getting these things from?!" Yasmin held her hand up to halt this man's rambling nonsense. How he was describing her was way off and it felt like he was reading this from Britannica.
"That's because I did read it off of Britannica," he smirked and held up his phone high above his head.
How did he hear me?
"Don't project your thoughts out like that oh mighty goddess. You've got some work to do on your telepathy or otherwise, you'll be an open book to anyone. And they say you're a big deal" He blew a raspberry and shook his head at Yasmin who still stood stunned in her spot.
"A virgin it says huh? how's that life been working out for you?" She looked bewildered at this man who stood a foot above her. Mortified, Yasmin was at this poke in her personal life. She started to inch towards her ceramic vase to use as a weapon because this intruder was getting dangerously close.
This can't be happening.
"-oh but it is," The man pushed the door behind Yasmin all the way open so that he can glide on side of her, entering in without her permission. Her fingertips missed the ceramic vase by only a centimeter and she almost landed, unbalanced on her hands.
"Nice place Yemoja," He called back at her once he made it to her living room.
~
Yasmin Hudson, a well-loved OB-GYN physician in Amnesty Bay, Maine, is thinking about her next move in her career in the community she has given her life to. Excited for what's to come, she longs for something more than nights out on her balcony staring at the moon. She secretly fears that her life will only be used to serve others for eternity. Her fears come to life as she is awakened from the inside due to a tragic loss. Her spirit arises and she soon realizes that her duties stretch farther than little Amnesty Bay.
Welcome to the Origin Story of Yemoja
YOU ARE READING
Mami Wata (Arthur Curry)
عاطفيةYasmin Hudson, a well-loved OB-GYN physician in Amnesty Bay, Maine, is thinking about her next move in her career among the community she has given her life to. Excited for what's to come, she longs for something more than nights out on her balcony...