Awanzi

The king sat in his favorite spot; outside the palace, overlooking the expansive green, well-manicured lawns, meticulously punctuated with trees, and well thought out plants. His seat, a rocking huge wooden seat whose wood had been shipped all the way from the Congo, held his heavy frame up. He held his usual drink, one that no one save his oldest chef Kizimba knew the recipe. Kizimba had served the king since he, the king, was a young man, freshly sat on the throne after his father’s untimely demise. That was decades ago, seven decades to be precise. He had assumed the throne as a green teen. He had never ruled, never knew war, never went for battle. But sometimes fate doesn’t give you a heads-up, it just happens.

King Kiwingo was now old and grey. His limbs were feeble. His eyes deem. His face all wrinkled. The once energetic king was now weak, he couldn’t go out for war, and neither could his lieutenants let him. They did a good job protecting him and ensuring that his heart was at peace. He was the second king of the famous Awanzi island-a land long known for its scenic beaches and unfathomable deposits of minerals. He had served his people faithfully for 70 plus years now. He was beloved, the most famous man and the pride of the island.

But the king was not happy.

He looked a tad bit sad. His countenance was fallen. One could tell that he was very thoughtful. His aide had stood a distance away, hawk-eyed, lest any harm befall him. He had been seated there for hours on end. Saying nothing, just starring into the horizon. His aide knew better than to bother him or even attempt a conversation. The king was known to be a jovial man except when he wasn’t, which was rare, but not uncommon. In such times, it was best known to leave him alone or attract his wrath-which needless to say, no one ever wanted.

It was midday. The sun was sarcastically showing off her brightness and ensuring that everyone in the island knew exactly how hot she was. A lanky dark man clothed in a luminary trailing rob approached from the west end gate. The guards quickly stood, flung the gates open, and saluted him. He walked past the aide, waving at him, and headed straight to where the king was sat. The king turned to face him; they exchanged pleasantries and the man sat. This was Jamedari the head of the oldest governing council in Awanzi. If anyone could talk to a moody king Kiwingo and not get into trouble, it was Jemedari.

They seemed to engage in an animated discourse for a few minutes.

“Jemedari, I am old now, I could soon go the way of my fathers and I have no grandchild. Kanze is old enough to get married but she has no suitor. What’s there to be happy about?” Kiwingo asked.

Kanze was the king’s only daughter. Her mother had passed on a few years ago exacerbating her father’s loneliness. She was now in her late thirties.

“There is no need to drown yourself in sorrow and worry. Let me sleep on it this night. The gods will answer me before the crack of dawn.” Jemadari said, raising up and leaving the king at the exact spot where he found him.

He was right, the gods did speak, and he heard them. So he arose early. Rushed to see the king. The king had barely woken up when he was informed that his head elder had arrived to see him. He made his way to his council room to find Jemadari beaming with excitement.

“I know what to do King! I have the solution to your problem.” Jemedari quipped. The king sat on his throne, adjusted himself, inclining to listen.

“We will announce a swimming competition for all the bachelors in the island. Whoever wins marries your daughter.” He said.

“But that’s so simple. You want my daughter married to a swimmer? Anyone in the island can swim.” The king said.

“I knew that that was what you would say. Here’s the catch; The swimming competition won’t be an ordinary one. We will have this in your largest pool, but we will put crocodiles in the pool. Any man who is able to swim across a crocodile infested pool is surely brave enough and worth of your daughter’s hand in marriage.” Jemedari added.

The king, threw his hands in the air, and shouted “Alas! Perfect! Let the announcement be made across the island. I will give the people seven days to prepare.”

So according to the decree of the king, the announcement was made. The island reverberated at the news. Everyone looked forward to the day of the swimming competition. Thousands upon thousands enrolled, the day fast approached.

On the day of the competition, the men gathered, ready for the challenge. The king had added an even more exciting catch to the competition. Whoever would win the swimming competition would not only marry his daughter but he would also become heir apparent to the throne. The king arrived, his beautiful daughter, the prize, in toe. Everyone took their positions. The king sat at the dais, highly elevated overlooking the pool. He was ready, everyone was ready.

All the young men stood by the pool; they however realized that there was one tiny detail that no one had shared. The pool was crocodile infested. Swimming across a pool for an islander wasn’t a mean feat, swimming in a crocodile infested pool, however, was a completely different proportion all together. So most of the men dressed up and started walking away from the challenge.

Many still remained to see whether anyone was mad enough to attempt the challenge. The entertainers played their music, the dancers danced, as the hours willed away. From morning to midday to evening, no one had made the brave attempt yet. The sun was now quickly shying away from the earth, yet no one had made any attempt.

The king had stood up to leave; he had given up on the whole thing, his back turned to the pool, throwing his hands in the sky bemoaning the lack of bravery among the young men when a huge splash in the water was ominously heard. He turned, someone had finally decided to give it a brave try. The quick splash into the water surprised everyone the crocodiles included.

Everyone watched in amazement as this man swam, speedily, across the pool tactfully avoiding and evading the crocodiles who must have thought that their dinner had been served early. When he got to the middle of the pool, everyone started cheering-this was indeed a serious contender. Loud cheers, clapping, whistling, and even yells were heard from the onlookers. The man was relentless, he was giving it his best. He energetically swam all the way to the finish line, heaved himself from the pool, fell face flat on the floor, exhausted and completely out of breath. The guards picked him up, covered him in a towel, to wipe off the dripping water, as he caught his breath. He had done it!

As he stood, still shaking from both the cold of the water as well as fear of the crocodiles, he seemed to mumble something. He approached the king’s dais and bowed in respect as the custom would dictate. King Kiwingo was overjoyed, he had finally found a husband for his daughter. He got ready to declare him the winner. The young man however lifted his hands, waved to the cheering crowd and shouted, “Hold on! Hold wait! Wait! I have a question. I need to know just one thing.” Everyone was taken a back; the king silenced everyone and asked the young man what he needed to know.

The young man, coughed, breathed in and out, turned the crowd and asked, “Please tell me which one of you idiots threw me into the pool!”

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P.S.: This is not an original story. It is a story told in my vernacular. I don’t know its origin so I cannot give credits. The moral of the story however is, that sometimes, life doesn’t give you an opportunity to choose your battles. Sometimes life throws you into the deep end and you have two options; flight or fight i.e. to swim across the crocodile infested pool or be weak and get torn apart by life’s challenges. My two cents? Swim on, you can ask who threw you into the pool after you cross the finish line.