Jewels Of Africa - Literature - Nairaland
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| Re: Jewels Of Africa by HumbledbYGrace(f): 6:07am On Mar 29, 2013 |
PART ONE ⌣»̶·̵̭̌·̵✽̤̈CHAPTER 1✽̤̈·̵·̵̭̌«̶⌣ THE MASAAI PRINCESS “~Being a princess is hard work, its not about looking beautiful or wearing a crown, its what is inside that matters.~” “The time is seven thirty, its time to wake up.” Malaika's outmoded Nokia 1100 vibrated on the headboard, waking her up. She picked it up carelessly and send it flying across the room. There was no way, she would be seen holding that hag of a phone, not while she was about to meet the most envied girls across the continent. She had to get a new phone, something better, a Blackberry, Sony, Samsung, or an Iphone, something that will make a statement without her saying a word. Winning the Jewels of Africa scholarship had opened doors for her in so many ways, which included another zeros being added to her bank account. Her father had given her a lumpsum of fifty thousand to invest in whatever she wanted, it was her fee for the first year for the masters program she had planned on doing immediately after her first degree. Luckily she didn't need to pay for her studies anymore. JOA was taking care of that. Spoiling herself silly wouldn't hurt, she had worked hard to be where she was, it surely paid to work hard in school. Malaika Evans flew from Nairobi to South Africa the previous afternoon, anxious about leaving too excited about going, upon arrival at O.R Tambo airport an escort from the JOA organization escorted her to the suburbs of Sunnyside and had viewed the flat green with envy. She was envious because even her house back home was not as exquisite as the flat she was to call home. It was a two en suit bedroom and bathrooms pad with a spacious living room and a kitchen with no enough room to swing a cat. It was very modern to say the least, black ceramic walls, black ceramic tiles and a grey double door fridge near the entrance. Furnished with a matching wall unit and a four plate black electric glass stove. Malaika had her face sullen when the thought of the other girls crossed her mind, she wished she didn't have to share with anyone, especially if it wasn't Beatrice. The kitchen was spot on though she gritted her teeth as she silently prayed that her house mates would be neat freaks like her. Rolling from her single bed and hitting the tiled floor with a thud, she knew it was another day, fresh start and new people. Growing up as an only child, she never liked the crowd and girls in groups made her feel nauseaous. The only friend she had was Beatrice from Rwanda. They had plans to apply for the JOA together but their plans were cut short as Beatrice never returned to school after their last holidays before graduations. She had just disappeared without a notice, no further communication, nothing. Since then she had promised herself not to leave room for friends, they were too decieving. She had done the rolling exercise before she could start primary school. Her mother; the dragon lady, needed Malaika's assistance at eight every morning, so Malaika learned that after falling from the bed, she didn't feel sleepy and was able to get to her mother before she got to her. The cold floor brought her back to life, she curled there like a cat that hasn't seen its owner for years, purring and content in its owner's arms. An hour later she was in the living room, it smelled of Airwick air freshner, and spotless. The deep lilac blue walls had a cozy feeling, like a summer evening spent by the lake. Deep lilac blue floor to ceiling curtains hung on the windows. A knotty pine table at the far end of the room, with its hand carved antique chairs which was just a right place for studying. They could change the chairs to make it look more stylish and comfortable for studying she thought, smiling to herself. In the middle of the room was a small glass table with brown wooden legs, surrounded by four black leather couches, she jumped on the big one feeling very jolly, things she used to do with Beatrice. They had been sisters, same height, same skin color, same body weight and same face types. They were inseperable and Beatrice spend all her holidays at Malaika's house, in three years Malaika had a sister who broke her heart when she went to bury her mother not allowing Malaika to go with her. She stepped down almost immediately, tears blinding her, she still miss her and hated her too. She slowly made her way to the main door, pausing briefly, opened it and peered outside then closed it again. She had to clean the house, she had to forget about Beatrice, she was gone and was never coming back. She swept the whole flat, not that it was dirty she just had to do it. Walking around the lounge, she would touch the big flat screen tv, hanging on the wall. She would switch it on and off, changing the channels in the process, ever so slowly. At home there was no tv. Mother didn't want it around, her father had promised her a DSTV Walka but he said she could get it herself when she got to South Africa. Well there was no need, not with that big screen that occupied most of the wall. she assured herself. Stepping out onto the balcony, she watched in adoration the suburb which was awake with everyday life below. Kids going to school, traffic congestion on the road next to the flat and the noisy sound of the morning train. Stepping back into the room, she hurried off to the bedroom to change before her house mates arrive. **************** Waltzing infront of the passage mirror, she had to make sure that she looked presentable. She had seen her rivals faces but had no idea what their taste in fashion was, only God knew the kind of girls she was to meet. She loved dressing up, when her mother wasn't looking or when she was at her aunt's house. Right after high school when she left home for Nairobi, she had entered few beauty pageants and had won most of them. Malaika was exceptionally beautiful. Her dark chocolate skin matching her eye color and short black hair. She loved smiling, which made her lips curl showing off her snow white teeth. Colored beads trapped down her chest, not large, but well proportioned with a firm shape that fit her toned body. No cellulite hinting at possibilities under her sun dress. Her already long legs were elongated by pink stilettos, toenails matching. She was a super model in her own little world. At a point she felt like dropping out of college, her mother almost had a heart attack. Her mother's reason was that; Malaika had what she never had, she grew up where there was no school and had chores to do from sundown till night fall. Her daughter had to show some gratitude. “But you let a good life without education Mama!” Malaika had tried to protest and her mother had slapped her across the face, making her nose bleed. “Wewe bora kumshukuru Mungu wako kwamba sikuwa kufa, kwa sababu kama mimi. Mimi ningelienda kuhakikisha kupoteza kila kitu. Kuharibiwa kufuru kipande cha takataka! ” ( “You better thank your God that I did not die, because if I did. I was going to make sure you lose everything. Spoiled ungrateful piece of rubbish!” ) Her mother had hissed at her. “Mama, jinsi gani unaweza kusema kwamba?” ( “Mother, how can you say that?” ) Malaika asked through tears. She hated Swahili, but had to speak it with her because her mother hated speaking the white man's language. Never eager to learn and always gave the old wives tale excuse that she was too old to learn. “Nendeni mkatuandalie chakula cha jioni, mjadala huu ni juu!” ( "Go and prepare us dinner, this debate is over!" ) Her mother warned her throwing a bottle of tradition cough syrup at her. From that day she had learned never to cross her mother, let alone talk to her freely about anything. Her mother still considered her a child because unlike women of her age, Malaika was not circumcised and had no say in anything that concerned women. She sometimes wondered how her father had managed to ask her mother out, she was a typical Masaai woman, too backward for her liking. Her mother was too tall, muscular, kept her head bald and had stretched ear lobes. To her, her mother was just someone who was always angry at something, never satisfied with the way Malaika did things. She was glad her father was a missionary, her mother's beliefs had no impact on her because her father's word was final. Well except that time she wanted to leave school for modeling, then her father had given his wife full responsibility. He had left for a mission work outside the country knowing that his wife would knock some sense into Malaika. 4 Likes |
| Re: Jewels Of Africa by HumbledbYGrace(f): 2:32pm On Mar 29, 2013 |
Larry-Sun:Swahili is not a local language 1 Like |
| Re: Jewels Of Africa by LarrySun(m): 3:28pm On Mar 29, 2013 |
HumbledbYGrace: Swahili is not a local languageOkey dockey!  |
| Re: Jewels Of Africa by HumbledbYGrace(f): 3:30pm On Mar 29, 2013 |
Larry-Sun:translated it though. |
| Re: Jewels Of Africa by luvmijeje(f): 7:19pm On Mar 29, 2013 |
*following* 1 Like |
| Re: Jewels Of Africa by Nobody: 7:21pm On Mar 29, 2013 |
Ms Mosotho at it again,thumbs up sis 1 Like |
| Re: Jewels Of Africa by HumbledbYGrace(f): 7:36pm On Mar 29, 2013 |
Peterjosh: Ms Mosotho at it again,thumbs up sisthanks Peter |
| Re: Jewels Of Africa by BukkyDan(f): 11:02am On Apr 01, 2013 |
Hmm, I'm following ya all the way... More ink to ya pen... 1 Like |
| Re: Jewels Of Africa by HumbledbYGrace(f): 12:00pm On Apr 01, 2013 |
BukkyDan: Hmm, I'm following ya all the way... More ink to ya pen...thanks Bkay...waiting for you on your thread though |
| Re: Jewels Of Africa by HumbledbYGrace(f): 8:03pm On Apr 01, 2013 |
************* The door flung open and three girls walked in. They walked as if they had rehearsed the walk. Malaika had to move away from the threshold to make way for them. They were all dressed elegantly; the first one wore a yellow summer dress, black peeptoe pumps and a blue vintage blazer. She had no make up on, had an afro, rich and dyed like newly dug char coal. The other one who wore a black bandage skirt, paired with a blue vest and blue stilettos, said something in a foreign language, and the two girls giggled. The third one looked totally out of place, she kept to herself most of the time throughout the introduction period until they felt they had enough of each other and decided to unpack and get settled. The girl who had kept to herself was Ife; the Nigerian girl. Ife had kept to herself because the other two girls had nothing nice to say to her. Both Ife and Malaika had something in common; they couldn't stand the haughty Southern African girls. She prayed that Ife's quietness had something to write home about. She wasn't in need of friends but she didn't want enemies either. “Hi miss Nigeria.” “Hi,” “Its a lovely view isn't it?.” She said pointing outside through the window. Silence. Malaika felt like a kindergarten trying to make friends with the most popular girl at school. “So your from Kenya?” Ife queried folding the last of her under garments in a shelf, then looked up to face Malaika. Ife had asked to share the bedroom with Malaika since it had a huge window that had a great view of central at night. Unlike the other bedroom that was near the front door, which overlooked blocks of flats without an end. Her reason was she felt alive in the morning when the morning sun creeps through the curtains. Its a sign to her that another day had began. Time to make the most of it, and she had whispered to Malaika that it was better being with her than the silly girls down the passage. “Yes, I am.” Said Malaika, avoiding Ife's stare. But it was unbearable so she had to ask. “And what are you starring at?” “Your beads are beautiful. But too colorful.” Ife said sacarstically. “These beads are our heritage.” Malaika felt an urge to fight for what she believed in. Why were people always making fun of her culture? Was it too hard for people to accommodate others? Beatrice used to say girls always have an excuse not to like something, even if it was beautiful, girls were haters. Ife reminded her of Beatrice though the difference was that Ife was not her, and she had no right to talk like that. She wasn't going to be a walk over in Pretoria, not by some Nigerian girl anyway. “You see, the Masaai....” She stammered. “The what......?” Ife Interrupted her bewildered, she looked like she'd just seen something from the stone age, she traversed over to where Malaika stood and examined her like the disciples did after Jesus Christ's resurrection. “Your one of those people with stretched ear lobes?” She touched Malaika's pieced ears still shaking her head. “But yours are not stretched, though your hair is short but I have to admit you look hotter than those girls I see on magazines and television.” At last she moved away from Malaika, satisfied and happy. “God! I never thought I would see this day ooo. Living with the cradle of human kind under one roof?” Ife exclaimed in her dialect, Malaika was sure it was an insult but pretended not to have heard her. A glimpse at Ife and the picture of Kim Kadashian would pop up. She was curvy and tall but not as tall as Malaika. Her long hair draped at her large alluring burst. How Malaika loved having a large burst but unfortunately for her, it wasn't in their genes, she was envious. Her pumpkin complexion made her face glow like the sun setting in the middle of the golden Sahara desert at sunset. “My dad is white, mother, a Masaai maiden.” She let out a long sigh, there was nothing to tell about herself or her family. “So tell me about your family.” She directed the question to Ife. “Well I am a product of a failed relationship between a married professor and a student.” Ife said without any emotion. “Your not serious!” Malaika's slack-jawed face told Ife the girl needed some lectures about life. “Mhm, my dad is a Professor at Obafemi Awolowo University, where my mom was studying. After I was named she ran from the hospital, leaving me behind. The woman who raised me said my mother's dad didn't want anything to do with the yorubas so we are sure that's why she left. Ibo's and Yorubas don't really click you know. The inter marriage thing doesn't really work between the two.” Malaika sat down looking at the other girl, she looked reluctant. “You don't have to tell me if your not comfortable you know?” Malaika sympathized. “Its ok, it feels good to talk about it really. Can I trust you?” The girl asked sincerely. Malaika marveled at the other girl's openness. “Sure, why not.” Rolling her eyes at Malaika, Ife continued with her story. She realized that trust was earned and for her to trust Malaika, Malaika had to trust her too. “So, I was raised by my other mother. I love her to bits.” “You don't have siblings?” “My older brother died at birth, mother didn't want anymore.” Malaika walked over to help her new roommate unpack. There was a lot to do and a lot to talk about. “For what is worth, I am already enjoying your company Malaika.” Malaika's lips curved into a smile....it was a beginning of something great. She could feel it. 3 Likes |
| Re: Jewels Of Africa by LarrySun(m): 8:10pm On Apr 01, 2013 |
Nice inter-tribal fussion. Weldone. 2 Likes |
| Re: Jewels Of Africa by HumbledbYGrace(f): 8:17pm On Apr 01, 2013 |
Larry-Sun:thanks Larry |
| Re: Jewels Of Africa by bigsholly(f): 8:45pm On Apr 01, 2013 |
Am enjoying it piece by piece weldon HBD Bt pls mk ur update frequent 1 Like |
| Re: Jewels Of Africa by HumbledbYGrace(f): 10:12pm On Apr 01, 2013 |
⌣»̶·̵̭̌·̵✽̤̈CHAPTER 2 ✽̤̈·̵·̵̭̌«̶⌣ When the apartheid era ended in South Africa, Africans from all over the continent came down to try their luck in all kinds of business. Men from Lesotho, Swaziland, Mozambigue and neighboring countries also came to work at the gold mines of Johannesburg. Pretoria too became a home for unknown men, no one knew where this wandering men had their homes or their origin nor how was a man to be explained unless you at least knew somebody who knew his father and mother. All that was known was that they were searching for greener pastures. They regarded each other as aliens, clustered together like an extended family. People who spoke the same language called each other brothers. There were the good, the bad and the ugly among them and mojority of dwellers in the surrounding surburbs were quite full of them. Church street is one of the longest streets in Pretoria, it is also very busy as it runs through the heart of Pretoria. Its located at the CBD, old buildings, banks, retail shops, food stores and a park are all assembled to work together for the benefit of the people. Church square lay on the centre where Church street and Paul Kruger street crossed each other. It was a park where most people would be seen relaxing with families and friends, tourists taking photos near the statue of Paul Kruger feeding doves and birds near an old pond under a small bridge. Hairstylists would be seen looming all over the place looking for customers. And like any other females, Malaika was no exception. She was getting used to people asking if she wanted to do her hair, always saying the same thing like there was something wrong with her short hair. “Sisi, don't you want to do your hair?” A tall, dark, well build and handsome guy stood holding a hair salon cards waving them in front of her. Smiling, she returned the greetings n Swahili. “Hello pretty lady, how are you?” The guy replied in Swahili which surprised her but she knew that Pretoria had every single african in it. It was possible that the guy was from one of the Swahili speaking country like her. “I am fine thanks, and how are you?” Came a curt reply from her. “Very well dear. Want to do your hair?” He was so gentle, soft spoken and respectful, not that she had paid any attention to boys in school or anywhere, she was too busy studying. Her hair was just fine, her mother had told her never to see her with braids or weaves on her head. Those extensions belonged to someone's head. “No thanks, I was just looking.” She shook her head, He looked disappointed but managed a forced smile, took out his business card and handed it to her. “Just take my number, my beautiful lady. You could call me when you want to do your hair. I am Femi by the way.” “Femi? He must be from Nigeria. I might as well take his numbers. The brother is fine.” She muttered under her breath, flashing him her trademark smile, then spoke up.“Thanks again, my parents call me Malaika, Are you Nigerian?” His smile broadened and he relaxed a little. “Yes I am. How did you know? can you speak English?” “I can, I was just teasing, and you responded well too. My roommate is from Nigeria and had mentioned the name Femi quite a few times.” Femi asked if Malaika wanted to go somewhere and chill. She said no but he pleaded with her, she had given in and allowed him to take her to a nearby Wimpy at Sammy Marks Square. ************** Femi had his heart on his sleeves, after a month of numerous dates. He told her how he felt and they took it from there. He was Malaika's first boyfriend, and enjoyed teaching her the basics of keeping a Nigerian man. She learned that Femi was a student and helped at his friend's sister's salon. She also learned that he was taking Swahili and French as a package in his field of study. “We are here.” Malaika's eyes widened, as Femi led her inside an old Parish church at Andries street just across Burgers Park. He winked at a beautiful female receptionist. The receptionist handed them a form to fill. “You didn't tell me, we were going to do an H.I.V test Femi.” Whispered, scanning the form. Femi had told her that he wanted to show her something. Not giving too much information about it, it had left Malaika in wonderland but she ended up pushing away the thought that it might be something bad. Besides he had no reason to break up with her, they had just started dating. “I know, I wanted to surprise you. And I want to take things to the next phase.” “Hmmmmm.” Malaika didn't ask anymore questions. After filling the form they were led to a counseling room. The counselor looked nothing like a counselor. He was white, had long blonde hair covering her pointy ears, which were pieced with more than three earrings on each ear. Malaika concluded that he was better off as a rock star not a counselor. When he spoke, she was astonished. He was soft spoken just like Femi, always asking if she was okay after every five minutes. She lied that she was fine, she couldn't disappoint or disrepectful to Femi in front of a stranger. She would wait until they were alone. The process took them less than an hour, with both results coming out negative. The walk to Femi's flat was short, maybe because they were walking like complete strangers. Both lost in their own thoughts. How on earth did this relationship get to this? Malaika sucked her middle finger as they stepped into the elevator. She wasn't ready to give up her virginity just like that, what about marriage? She had been a push over for Femi ever since they started dating, whatever boss Femi said she did without questioning. If she didn't pick his calls, she would be accused of infertility. She wasn't allowed to talk back, well she was an African woman after all and her mother had taught her that men were to be respected. No matter the situation, a woman never spoke back when a man was talking. It baffled her as Ife was very rude to her boyfriend. He drove a fancy Ford Focus sport and possessed all that gave a man respect from women and men alike because where she came from; if a man had a lot of cows and children he was considered rich and had already earned respect for himself. So if Mike had money that could buy a kraal full of cows and had children why couldn't his girlfriend respect him? “Why should I respect Mike? To me, he's just my friend with benefits.” The argument had started after Ife had rudely told Mike to go to hell over the phone because he was spending time with his family and couldn't take the girls to movies as he had promised. “Babe...” Femi called out to Malaika who seemed not to notice that they were already at his flat. “I am sorry, I didn't mean to upset you my angel.” “You can shove your apology to your throat and swallow it because I don't give a damn!” She had meant to turn back at the door but Femi pulled her inside. They both knew he had a temper and Malaika had never crossed him in a way but have seen how he reacts when he was angry. He banged the door behind them shoving Malaika across the room. “You don't dare talk to me like that!” Femi's face had lost its handsomeness, his eyes were stained red. He pocketed his shaking hands to avoid hitting Malaika. She looked around the room, it looked like there hadn't been any activity since last night. if the house was empty it meant Femi might beat her into a pulp. He had told her how he disciplined his sisters back home, all three of them feared the mighty Femi. “No!” “Malaika, when in Rome, do as the Romans do. ” “Well, firstly I am not Yoruba, secondly, Ife is Yoruba and doesn't let a man walk over her!” She snapped at him. Femi, lost it, he pounced on Malaika and a thunderous slap landed on her cheek, creating stars in the space. She wasn't sure what to do, whether to cry or laugh but the pain was too much. “I am tired of hearing about Ife! She is not your mother for crying out loud! ” He hissed kicking her out of his way as he went to his bedroom. “And please go. ” That was a final blow, she was about to leave when she realized he had the key. Gritting her teeth to keep from screaming at him, she got up and walked to his room. Rehearsing in her head what she would say to him. Apart from the decision making, and his outbursts Femi had been good to her. He had listened to her complaints about her house mates and pressure at school. Was she going to let a slight misunderstanding ruin their relationship? Come to think of it, he meant no harm. He lay on his tummy, his head covered with a pillow. “Femi...” She called out, he didn't reply. She took off her shoes and kneeled beside him on the queen size bed. She had never been with him alone in his room, it felt quite awkward. He was quite and still like a statue. “Malaika...” He rolled over and let her rest her head on his chest, stroking her bushy eyebrows letting only their hearts beat together in a rhythmatic beat. “I am sorry.” He said, his voice matching the movement his hands were making. “Its Ok.” she managed to murmur before his mouth met hers in a rough kiss. The sentimental journey she took with him raised consciousness of her own feminine prowess. Her slightest touch enticed him. The merest caress of her lips engaged him. A flick of her tongue enthralled him. His moans of pleasure increased her boldness, and she ran her hands down his chest and stomach until her eager fingers found the most sensitive part of him. He trembled and uttered her name in encouragement as she stroked and marveled at the softness of his skin and enjoying the sensational feeling it brought. He was very gentle yet thorough with her, moving with liquid ease, he guided her to the plateau of fulfilment. The pain she felt at the beginning evaporated as soon as she climaxed. She wrapped herself around him, holding on tightly as he surged the cold winter wind. Breathlessly she murmured his name as a feeling of satisfaction spread through her, bringing a peaceful smile to her lips. Femi kissed her forehead. “So I am the special man in your life huh? ” He teased her. She laughed at him, nodding her head in agreement. “I would be delighted if you could spend the night with me. Just this once? ” Femi asked with longing eyes. She hesitated for a moment but then made up her mind. It wouldn't hurt to spend the night with her man, get to know his friends and just have fun. She excused herself to the bathroom to call Ife, she couldn't call her infront of Femi, that would mean trouble. She decided to text Ife, Femi might hear her talking on the phone. Hey girl, I won't be home tonight, been busy visiting those exotic places your always ranting about. Tonight is the night, he promised to be thee best I ever had. Later She send the text and waited for Ife's reply before deleting them. Naughty girl, can't wait to hear about thee package. Later Angie... (Kisses) She had entered into a world of desire, passion and somehow lust. Would she be able to handle the things that came with that pleasure? She wasn't sure but the risk was worth taking. 3 Likes |
| Re: Jewels Of Africa by HumbledbYGrace(f): 10:18pm On Apr 01, 2013 |
bigsholly: Am enjoying it piece by piece weldon HBDthanks, will try my love |
| Re: Jewels Of Africa by MaziOmenuko: 6:22am On Apr 02, 2013 |
Nice one HBG! I've been following but had to comment after your last update: the love-making scene was one of a kind, I totally loved it, smooth and easy to digest. Waiting for your next update so we can climax together  |
| Re: Jewels Of Africa by HumbledbYGrace(f): 7:10am On Apr 02, 2013 |
Mazi_Omenuko: Nice one HBG!you need Jesus....that was just it, nomore. |
| Re: Jewels Of Africa by LarrySun(m): 9:27am On Apr 02, 2013 |
Are you trying to say that violence can sometimes awaken sex.ual passion? Nice job though; less errors in this one. 1 Like |
| Re: Jewels Of Africa by frank317: 11:28am On Apr 02, 2013 |
hi HBG, pls how do i say 'i love you' in that language of ur? |
| Re: Jewels Of Africa by HumbledbYGrace(f): 8:21pm On Apr 02, 2013 |
Larry-Sun:yes sir....some girls enjoy it after an argument, something called 'make up sex.' Larry-Sun:a year older, we are not growing backwards are we? |
| Re: Jewels Of Africa by HumbledbYGrace(f): 8:30pm On Apr 02, 2013 |
frank3.16:  Oh dear....NAKUPENDA |
| Re: Jewels Of Africa by princesa(f): 10:49pm On Apr 02, 2013 |
nice work... another item in my 'following' cart  1 Like |
| Re: Jewels Of Africa by HumbledbYGrace(f): 12:52am On Apr 03, 2013 |
princesa: nice work...have I eva told you that your posts makes me smile?  Thanks Princesa |
| Re: Jewels Of Africa by luvmijeje(f): 8:25am On Apr 03, 2013 |
HBG,what a beautiful writing,good storyline, I especially enjoyed the international flavour you bought to your story. Before I engage you in a discussion, the love scene you describe,is that Malaika first sex? |
| Re: Jewels Of Africa by HumbledbYGrace(f): 8:44am On Apr 03, 2013 |
luvmijeje: HBG,what a beautiful writing,good storyline, I especially enjoyed the international flavour you bought to your story.thanks dear, I hope I am not in trouble. Yes its her first time |
| Re: Jewels Of Africa by BukkyDan(f): 9:11am On Apr 03, 2013 |
Yo sis! Nice write-up. I learnt something...you know...#smiles# 1 Like |
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