When I think of peace, I think about walking with my father through the village. The sugar cane reeds swaying in the wind, dancing to the music of our ancestors. I think of its sweetness, its succulent stems trapped behind father’s teeth like prisoners, his smile warming even the coldest of hearts.

I think of his voice, soothing, fatherly and able to calm even the most dreadful of storms. The voice whose stories will forever be embedded in the darkest parts of my heart. A voice that will never again fill the air with its laughter and singing. Gods, father loved singing.

Reality casts a shadow over my memory. “He’s gone,” I remind myself.

Three full moons since the warmth of his life pooled from a hole in his chest, staining every single part of my clothes. His ancestral bracelet warm against my skin as he wiped the tears from my cheeks.

“Trust no-one,” were his last words, his voice barely audible.

Killed in the tournament for the crown of our people. My people. A brutish tradition that should have been outlawed years ago, but men love to test the strength of their bodies and not their minds.

The man who took him from me not only holds the spear of chiefdom but waits at the altar for his bride.

“I will get my revenge,” I whisper to myself.

“Princess,” a high-pitched voice exclaims. “Princess!”

The familiarity of it shakes me from my thoughts. I lift my chin, pretending that I have not been staring at the traditional attire for the wedding. My wedding.

“Come inside, Andiswa,” I say.

The sunlight burns away the gloomy thoughts as the flap of the hut opens.

Andiswa saunters towards my clothes, already dressed for the occasion. She is wearing a white garment with bones and beads embroidered on it, heralding that she is the daughter of a diviner.

“You must be excited to be marrying the strongest man on the mainland, princess Nkanyezi,” she says, the wary look in her eyes contradicting the jovial tone of her voice. “Rumour has it he is as charming in the bedroom as he is skilled on the battlefield.”

Andiswa knows as well as everyone else that he’s a monster, but her loyalty to the new chief robs her of her honesty.

“I know he’s a brute, Andiswa. I’ve seen what he did to the men of his village back when I visited their tribe with my father.”

She stares pensively at my attire, caresses the ancestral skins between her fingers before she turns to me.

“Tau has no regard for human life, but you will get to be the wife of a chief, princess.”

I don’t want to be the wife of a chief; I want to be the chief. The words do not leave my mouth, but the look in Andiswa’s eyes suggests that she understands.

“You and I have known each other since childhood, Andiswa,” I say, gripping the isipandla father wore on the day of the tournament, the last reminder that he once lived and breathed in this hut. “From a young age, we dreamt of women ruling our lands. Men know nothing but war, but we can change that.”

Andiswa’s eyes are like the dying embers of a fire, she stares at me as my words paint recollections of our childhood. “I understand, princess, but …”

The heavy beating of drums echoes in the distance and cuts her off. She sighs. “The time has come, princess.”

***

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