Sunday morning

08:02

The jet landed at King Shaka International Airport. The weather seemed to be better than in Chicago but it was cloudy and a bit chilly. Rosie clutched her luggage as she walked behind her grandparents, who strutted comfortably as the two men in suits were having the devil’s own time all the luggage.

As they were walking through the automatic sliding doors, throngs of reporters hurried towards them with cameras and microphones. Rosie felt she was one of those celebrities she’d seen on television, with all the journalists’ attention and the cameras flashing upon them. The other four private security guards, who’d been waiting for them, were the only thing that kept them moving towards the car. They blocked the congested reporters, but the reporters weren’t blocked from throwing out questions.

“Why did you choose a woman from another country who is a stranger to the Zulu Kingdom?” asked one male reporter.

“Is it appropriate to choose someone who doesn’t even know their home language?” another reporter fired.

“How and why was the son denied the throne?” a woman asked, but none of the questions were answered.

Once they were safely in the car, Rosie’s grandfather spoke. “Do you see the mess your father got us into?” He looked at Rosie with red eyes, biting his lower lip. At least her grandmother made her feel welcome as she was delighted every second she talked to (or looked at) her. Rosie prayed to find the rest of the family as warm as her granny.

Slumping in her seat, she sighed and closed her eyes for a minute, pondering if this was how she was going to live her life, with journalists following her intently. One wrong move and her leadership would be questioned. She had to stay on the right path. Making her father proud was now more important than the money. She had to make sure he continued to be respected even in his grave. Then she remembered the question about her home language. How would she address her people when she didn’t even know isiZulu? She needed time to learn and was enthusiastic about it.

“We’re here, darling,” she whispered, as the car turned into a dusty road. When she turned her head, she was completely shocked to see a place that looked like a village. The town was the great Shaka KaSenzangakhona’s birthplace.

“You guys never mentioned I was going to be a queen of a village,” she said, and her grandmother chuckled softly.

“It is the Zulu Kingdom, my dear.”

Rosie couldn’t believe her life was kidnapped by mud houses and rounders as she looked through the window. She knew there was no turning back. This boring place was going to be the death of her.

She changed her mind when the car pulled up in front of an automatic golden steel gate, with another two men in silver-grey suits and shades standing beside it.

The beautiful, large dwelling surprised her further. It was a type of a modern mansion that looked like all the mansions at the Gold Coast combined. Her negative mindset about the place of Melmoth had completely changed to a positive relief. She admired the secured yard that was no different from the golf course. It was quiet and had huge, lovely trees in every corner. White lilies and yellow roses decorated the sides of the driveway.

They walked inside the mansion. Two figures had been awaiting their arrival, and Rosie’s grandparents greeted and shared hugs with them happily, and started with the introductions.

Sthandiwe Mpande, Hugh’s wife, was the first person to be introduced. The woman who caused Marisa to leave Hugh. Rosie forced a smile and stretched out her hand but the woman folded her arms and just glared at Rosie with her black eyes.

Rosie thought she loathed her guts since her son was denied the position that had been given to her. But Rosie wasn’t bothered. As long as she stayed far away from this woman she wouldn’t see a problem between them – she could be her callous self too.

“Kunjani, ntombi encane? How are you, small girl” Sthandiwe said, with a deep voice.

Rosie kept her smile even if she didn’t understand a word she said.

“Oh, Rosie doesn’t know isiZulu, but she will in time,” said her grandmother, coming to her rescue.

Sthandiwe burst out in an annoying laugh. “Indlovukazi enjani le engalazi ulimi lakhe? What kind of a queen is this that doesn’t know her language?”

Rosie was glad she couldn’t understand what she said because surely her words would have hurt her, and she didn’t want any reason not to like her, since they were going to be a family after all.

Next, the boy was introduced as Jude Mpande, Rosie’s half-brother. He was even more handsome as he flashed a smile toward her and she felt coy as they shook hands.

“You know, I was surprised and happy when they told me I had a sister who’s apparently a African-American, but now I’m ecstatic to see she’s this gorgeous,” he said.

She couldn’t help but return the lovely smile. “Nice to meet you brother,” Rosie replied, while Sthandiwe rolled her eyes.

“Go show her her room, Jude. I asked the housekeepers to prepare it before I left,” his grandmother commanded him.

“Sure things, grams.”

Jude grabbed Rosie’s suitcase and jerked his elbow widely. Rosie smiled and slid her arm into his and they headed toward the stairs. She’d been totally surprised by his attitude that was so different from his mother’s. She was relieved she did not receive any hate from her brother as she’d expected.

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