Raised by a Gangster

Chapter 1 | And so, he falls

Key words:
Tey - Father
Jambo - Ok
Ta hi ja - you must fight

•Sanusi

"The king is dead." Musa announced "He doesn't want you to mourn. His last words remain, be strong and remember that ta hi ja."

The crowd bellowed "Ta hi ja."

24 hours ago...

"I remember when I found you." Here we go again.

The mighty Zaki has told me story a thousand times and today would be no different.

He found me under a tree during an early morning horse ride behind the palace walls, abandoned by my parents to die or get eaten by the starving wolves or ants.

"Yes Tey, I remember too."

"I wrapped you in my sweater and took off with you back to the palace."

He always told the story with excitement —just like the first time—so much so, it made me want to cry every single time.

"Tey," I laughed "I know you're going to say next."

He ignored me "You were so tiny. I could put you inside my nose."

"I still am. No flesh to show for my excessive eating." I showed him my obviously muscle built arm.

"At least you're strong!" He squeezes my biceps "Your old man isn't anymore."

"I got the strength from you."

He frowns "You're distracting me from finishing my story."

"Jambo, sorry daddy."

He blinks and clears his throat "I called for a nursing mother who was able to feed you at such a tender age. That was when Linda was hired. She was kind."

"I miss her."

"She taught you how to read and write. We realized you were a wiz at 5. I took you to..."

"Bunisa at 14." I finished the sentence for him.

"Why did you really ask me here Tey?"

He cast his eyes to the ground, touched his chest and squeezed his fist "I'm dying."

Tears gather in my eyes—hot tears—but I'm not allowed to cry. I can make him furious with just one drop so I force a firm mask because that is what he would've wanted.

I touch his forehead "Since when?"

"It's been a year now."

"When did you know you were dying?"

"A month ago."

My lips freeze, too weak to speak a word of how I feel.

"Stop that." He yells but ends up coughing "You're going to be the next King. Is that how you want to rule them?" He adds "With a weakness?"

"It's not weakness if you're there to support the person."

"It's a weakness when you don't know how to control it."

"I'm in control."

He hums "You lie, boy!"

"You're always right my king." I sigh.

"Enough of this." He coughs "I have three dying wishes."

"Always ready to serve you father."

"I know you are." His chest rises and he begins to cough. Blood spatters out in small drops, he wipes it with a tissue on his bedside table and continues "One, marry Najma—Alhaji Barau's daughter.

Two, you're going to become Surayya's father so take care of her and get her married to the best among men who's worth her time, who loves her and has her best interest at heart.

Three, the kingdom is yours, know how to wield the sword of your ancestors and slay your enemies until they seize to exist."

"Najma, daddy? I don't think we're a good match."

"Well I and her father think you're a good match."

"Please quash that wish. I'll do the rest daddy."

"If you don't want me to die angry at you, don't refuse me of my wishes."

"Ok daddy."

"Thank you son." He points at his drawer "Get me a pen and paper then send Musa in.

****

Surayya was growing and understanding her personality, knowing who she was and where she wanted to be but things I could do, they weren't enough.

She still attended the District War Progressions Academy and always came out top of her class. Her fighting skills improved after each semester and soon, I knew, she would be able to join me in combat with my trainer at the palace.

Mentor Mas'ood made me the fighter that I was and taught me that there was patience in striking and striking in patience. You were never too quick but can always be too late if you're not careful.

Surayya was an angry child and it showed in her belligerence. I noticed he'd been able to take the flame of her motherless childhood. She was sweet but also spicy, her ferocity mostly got the best of her but if she loved you, there was no way you wouldn't feel the heat less.

I made sure to do my research on what she needed in the teenaged phase so I could be as understanding as possible, just like our father wanted.

We got closer after every holiday and would still have our arguments whenever her opinions were opposing mine. She was astute, smart and her mouth always got her out of messes but they were the same reason she ended in more.

Najma, who was too eager to get married only befouled my routine. Less holidays with Surayya, more union conferences to attend because of having a wife and she just was there, as the perfect wife. This was the worst misalliance in history.

We didn't have a wedding until six months after the my fathers death. I visited her to get to know her with advice on how to impress her from Bala; my best friend.

I sent her clothes and perfume even if there was no need because her family could afford it. She was kind and understanding—I didn't even want her as a friend but what could I do? She'd been betrothed to me. I shouldn't resent her but had to respect —it was our traditions—but I deserved different.

The kingdom rose to far more glory than my father achieved and I was the biggest supplier of flowers in the country. It was either my flowers or death and no one dared to buy from another supplier unless they wanted some delivered to their graves.

Like my father, I became the terror they loved. Living in the attainment of two promises that provided me with blessings I didn't deserve.

As for me and Surayya, we continued to make the perfect duo until the team became I—If only there was I in love.
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