The Lion King In The Human World Part 3

Rani's Still In Africa.

RANI

"Um," I said, "My bad. I'm not married, I just messed up there. Sorry."

Grandfather turned to the three women at the side. They all shrugged, guess that's understood in Africa. He turned back to me. "We will welcome any help," he said, "Enzokuhle and his family are becoming more burdensome by the day."

"Enzokuhle?" I asked, "Is that your enemy's name? Why is he your enemy?"

"His grandfather stole from us," Grandfather said, "If we were in the times before white people came, we would have gone to war."

"Over what?" I asked, "What was stolen?"

Aba put her hand on my shoulder. "Enzokuhle's grandfather stole a girl from us," she said. Okay, I get why they're mad, that's making me mad. "He took her from her home and forced her to be his wife. He was madly in love with her, but once he had her, he grew angry and killed her." Once again, I get it, it's making me mad too.

"Oh my goodness," I said, "Poor girl."

Aba nodded in agreement. "It was a sad fate. But they refused to do anything about it. They wouldn't even let us bury her properly or pay the bride price to her father. That's why we are enemies young niece."

"Say," one of the elderly women who wasn't my grandmother said, "What is your name? We cannot call you niece or granddaughter forever."

"I'm Rani," I said.

THAT NIGHT

Grandfather was celebrating my coming. A large bonfire was lit, the women cooked strange food, the men slayed a goat, I think this is a good party. I'm new to this kind of life, but I hope so. 

There were so many stars above me, more than New York, Maine, or Texas. The sky lit up with little dots of light. It was beautiful. 

Amahle came next to me and sat down. She had white suns on her cheeks. "Do you want me to paint these on you?" she asked, "We do this for special occasions. You'd look so pretty." She waved a small jar of the white paint in her hand with a paintbrush squeezed between her fingers.

I sighed. Why not? "Go ahead," I said. Amahle squealed and dipped the brush in the paint. "So we're cousins, yet my grandmother had only one child. How?"

"Grandmother Omphile is Grandfather's first wife," Amahle said, "My grandmother is his third wife."

"More than one wife?" I asked, "People still do that?"

"Of course," Amahle said, "Haven't you ever met a man with two or more wives?"

"No," I said, "In America, it's against the law."

Amahle moved to my other cheek. "Against the law?" she asked, "But more wives means more children, and more children means more help with the farms and flocks. And when a man marries a woman from another family, it means peace between them."

Those all made sense, but I still think it works best when it's one husband and one wife. "We don't need to do that in America," I said, "We have a lot more jobs available, ones that don't require so much labor. And families there don't need to keep the peace between them, the police do that."

"We don't have police out here," Amahle said, "They stay in the cities. America is a wonderful country, isn't it? You're so lucky."

I really was, wasn't I? This place isn't bad, but it could be better. The poor girl who was kidnapped, forced into marriage, and then killed came to mind on the downsides about this village, right at the top of the list above the service here. In America, that wouldn't have happened, or at least they would have gotten some kind of repayment and the guy would have gone to jail. I sighed. "America isn't perfect," I said, "We have problems there too. Like my husband and I had to go to court to fight an unjust law. We won, but not before a surprising turn of events." Did I just call Kion my husband again?

"I'm going to America someday," Amahle said proudly, "I'm smart and brave and Father says he'd rather I go over there than stay here. I'm a wild animal, or at least that's what everyone calls me."

"Really?" I asked, "How come?"

"I can't sit still," Amahle said, putting the paint aside, "I have to be up and moving and doing something. I'm also what some people call a free spirit. Mother calls me her little lioness, because no one can control me."

"That's a good thing," I told her, "Just like the men and women who founded America. No one could tell them what to do either. You'd fit right in over in America, and you already have a family member and friend over there."

Amahle threw her arms around me in a hug. If she ever got to America, she's take it by storm. Then a pair of headlights blinded me.

I held up my hand to block the light. It was a Jeep like the one I rode earlier today. A young man got out of the car, his dark shape blocking part of the light. "Ladies," he said, "Find me the village elders now."

Amahle hid behind me. "What's wrong?" I whispered to her.

"He's Enzokuhle's grandson," Amahle whispered back, "He comes here to collect rent, but we just paid rent." So this guy has no reason for being here?

Enzokuhle's grandson, I don't know his name as of yet but I bet it's something scary sounding, came closer. Amahle shivered in fear behind me. I wasn't going to let this guy scare her like that, no matter if he's my family's landlord's grandson or not.

I stood up, Enzokuhle's grandson looks a lot less intimidating when you're not sitting on the ground. "Stop," I said, "Why should I get my grandfather? I'm not moving until you tell me."

Enzokuhle's grandson stopped in his tracks. "Why should I tell you my business?" he asked, "This is between me and your grandfather."

I crossed my arms and looked right at his face, can't see much of it because of those dumb headlights. "Why shouldn't you tell me your business?" I asked, "It involves my family, so it involves me, so it's my business as well. Tell me."

"You aren't like most women from your family," this man said.

"I'm not like most women in my family," I told him, "I'm an American."

The man got back in his Jeep and drove away. "Wow!" Amahle said, "He ran away! I'm going to love America!" Look out America.