The Head of The All Powerful

I sit on the bed, with Kayla my youngest sister parked between my legs. A familiar scene is taking place: a long yellow tooth comb, a large container of green Eco Style gel, and the small formations of hair about the dining room, ready to be gathered up into the humongous army of fallen ones. It is just about 95 degrees as I do my sister’s hair. As are most 6 year olds, she is terribly inquisitive, and to add to it, she's just had three lollipops and a cookie. So the questions come out like wildfire. “Yes” “no” “well it depends on what it is used for” and “because it just does” are usually sufficient answers for her simple questions, but then she asks something that I wouldn’t have ever expected.

“Why does our hair grow up, Samara?” she asks, while playing with loose hairs coated in gel between her fingers.

I stop combing through her hair with my Denman brush, absolutely taken aback. I didn’t think that she would have the curiosity to ponder this for at least 6 more years. I was hoping she didn’t. We aren’t allowed to tell the tale until someone is 10. People would just make fun of her if she told them, because they’d think it's not true.

“Why do you ask?” She senses the hesitation in my voice, and turns back to me, arm resting on the tip of my chair, and goes off just as kids do.

“Well, I was at recess with Lisa and Jackie the other day, and they were saying something about hair, and then Jackie said her mommy said that she always has to keep her hair down, but she didn’t tell her why, and so she messed her hair up and found a band to put in it to go home, and the next day she came to school and she was quiet, and her mom fixed her hair. Lisa said that even though our hair grows like that, we aren’t supposed to leave it like that. And then I said why and then she said she doesn’t know, her mommy just tells her it.” long winded as she was, I could see the exact situation in my head.

“Well it grows up because it just does.” I say with a chuckle and push her back in her original direction.

She nudges back to keep on facing me, with a pout. I knew that this time it wouldn’t be enough for her, and it shouldn’t be. I look up at the clock to see the time, and it read 4:07 pm, so mom wouldn’t be home for another hour and a half. The house was empty aside from the two of us in this dining room. I’m going to tell her.

“Hold on,” I say as I stand up, bumping her head a bit, and hastily walking, putting my phone and macbook in the other room. This is a tale I shouldn’t even be telling her, it is supposed to stay within the community. I might get in trouble, but I don’t plan on letting technology give that chance a head start.

I walk back through the house, going back and forth in my mind. Am I really going to tell her? What if she goes to school and tells someone? They may start being mean to her. But she is smart. She has the right to know.

I sit back down, swing my leg around her half done head of braids. I sit and with a sigh start to speak.

“There is a story to be told about it, but Kayla, I need you to understand that you cannot tell anyone.” I tell her as I pick the brush back up, ready to run it through her hair.

“Okay, I won’t tell anyone” she says with a small laugh. I stop brushing, and grab her shoulder to turn her to me.

“Kayla, I am serious, it could get you, me, and Mom in trouble. Do you understand?” I am more stern than I usually tend to be with her, and so she knew that I was serious. She looked at me wide eyed, and nodded slowly and hesitantly. This may be the worst thing I ever do.

“As Mom talks to us about, much of our history from Africa was lost. We didn’t know anything of where we came from, we had no history left. But what we had was word of mouth. Our ancestors held onto their stories, told us, and only us in places where anyone who didn’t look like us could ever hear. One of our greatest underground stories was that of Queen Nzinga, queen of Ndongo.”“Wait, Mommy always talks about her! She’s not a secret to people.” Kayla exclaims while crossing her arms in disappointment, as if she was neglected from learning about a foreign topic.

“What do you remember about the queen?” I ask.

“Well, she was a strong queen who was really good at making her country stay alive, and she was good at making peace with other countries.” she twirls an edge control lid on her finger, showing off her knowledge.

“But do you know about Chienta of Ndongo?” i say.

“No? Who is that?” she says frustratedly, upset that I proved to know something she didn’t.

“Chienta was Ndongo’s greatest warrior, and she was Nzinga’s right hand woman. Chienta and Nzinga were friends and worked together to strategize many successful attacks on the Portuguese, to keep control of their country.” I explain.

“Well, what does that have to do with hair?” she says.

“I was just getting to it. After a failed battle to capture the Fortress Of Massangano in Angola, The Portuguese were able to take back the capital of Angola. This put Chienta in a state of sadness, despite having strategized dozens of successful sieges before this one. She felt defeated, but Nzinga wasn’t having it.”

…………………………….

Chienta opened the big black door to the throne room where her Queen awaited her arrival. She hesitates before walking in the room, she knows what to expect from the conversation that is about to be held, but she doesn’t know how it will go, and it terrified her. She had never felt so disappointed for letting down her country.

She walks in to see her queen, in her traditional garb hovering above a map of Angola and Ndongo on a large table in the middle of the room. The room is large, gilded with seats in two rows leading to the queen’s throne, with 7 chandeliers lining the tops of the 7 story high ceilings. The room is intimidating, and just a few weeks ago Chienta felt most powerful in this room. Now, the size of the room did not hesitate to make her feel as small as she felt.

“Come here, I sent for you three hours ago, we must work” says the queen, not looking up from the map, and stretching out her hand in Chienta’s direction.

Chienta walks to the table, and says not a word. She can tell in the silence that Nzinga is awaiting her words, but they do not come. At this, Nzinga looks up.

“What is the problem? I said ‘I sent for you three hours ago, we must work’. We need to figure out a new plan before They try to take over Ndongo. I will not let them so let us not waste time.” the queen started to become impatient, which was fair, being that Ndongo was next to be seized.

“My Queen, I am not sure I am the best-”

“What is this nonsense you are saying?? We do not have much time to fix this. We must have a new strategy for the army in a few days time, let us WORK.” She winced as she said these words, with understandable impatience, and confusion as to why the best had started such a stupid sentence.

“My queen, I lost. We lost. I am not the best for this job, I believe the country would be better off with General Ivandro’s guidance.” Chienta says shakily.

“Why would I want his help when he is not the best? A man? And one that was on the force of my brother? You say such nonsense, and we do not have time!” Nzinga sucks her teeth, and swats her arm, as if to swat away such childish words that she does not want to come in contact with.

“My queen, did you understand me? I lost. We lost. I cannot help you any further.” Chienta’s voice seems to go into a panic when she says this, letting off more of her fear than she would have wanted.

“What is that, why do you keep calling me queen? I am Nzinga to you, I always have been, since we were children. What is this? What are you doing?” She throws her arms up, and comes around the table and puts her hands on Chienta’s shoulders.

“I cannot, I am not strong enough, we have lost so much, I cannot help you anymore.” Chienta says as she begins to cry. Nzinga straightens up, slowly removes her hands from Chienta’s shoulders, turns around, and walks to her throne. Despite the weight of what she is wearing, she seems to move in silence. She sits on her throne and looks straight at Chienta.“Do you know why I moved this table into my throne room, Chienta? Do you remember?” She says calmly, as she stares directly at Chienta.

“No.” Chienta wimpers.

“Let me remind you. When my incompetent brother died, he left this country in shambles. I was always the one who should have assumed this throne, I was the one who was gifted during military training, I was the one skilled at negotiations, I WAS THE ONE MEANT TO LEAD THIS COUNTRY. My brother was WEAK. He sterilized and murdered our family because he knew in a competition he would lose. And he did lose. He was so weak, that when he started to see that he was losing, he killed himself. Instead of fixing the issues HE brought on our country he decided he would not deal with it. I came back here out of love for my country and fought. I figured out solutions, I vowed to keep us safe from evil men like him. And I did. And I have been. That table reminds everyone who comes in here, why I am The Queen. No one else could do what I do, in the way I do it. I am all powerful, not because of the throne I sit upon, but because of the greatness I possess and my vow to use it to help my people. I do not doubt myself, I have no time for it. My strategy table tells all what they must know about me: That I am all powerful.” she adjusted in her throne, waiting for Chienta to speak.

“I understand my queen.” Chienta says as she looks down at the floor. Her hair is straight and of an amber brown color, and it falls to the side as she takes in the rust color of the carpet beneath her.

“LOOK UP. Do you think that I implore incompetent people to be on my side, whilst I do this work?” she projects, and tilts her head to the side.

“No, I, do not.” Chienta hesitates.

“Then why would I want your assistance if you could not be of assistance in protecting this country? Do you think that I am stupid, and cannot lead my country properly?” Nzinga yells with impatience.

“No my queen, I just, believe that I have failed you. I have failed us all. You’ve put your trust in me for many years, and I have somewhere within that time, begun to fail you. We lost many in our last battle, so many. We lost, Kaninda.” as Chienta speaks she falls down on her knees to the ground. Kaninda, Chienta’s sister, had been lost in battle, as well as tens of thousands of other soldiers. The room is silent except for Chienta's crying. She is on her hands and knees, watching as her tears make the carpet a dark brown beneath her. The queen walks over to Chienta, so quietly that Chienta is startled when she feels a hand on her back. She does not look up at the queen, too ashamed to face her.

The queen takes hold of Chienta’s hair, and wraps it around her fingers, until she could no longer see her hand. Chienta, too weak to stand, lets the queen do this, and continues to cry. As Chienta cries, feeling the hand in her hair and the carpet under her fingers, she begins to feel a sensation of movement. She feels weight coming from the top of her head, but it isn’t the queen's hand. She feels a tickling sensation around her face, and looks to her sides to see her hair moving. She is in awe of what is happening, looking from side to side, watching her hair shrink, and rise, watching gravity being defied in real time. She looks up at the queen in confusion, to see hair partially blocking her view.

“What is happening?” Chienta says, shaking her head, and her hair following.

“You will never look down again, because you will not have anywhere or anything to hide you. You will not be ashamed, because we will win.” The queen says calmly, as she has spoken during peace negotiations.

“But how have you done this?” Chienta asks, taking her hands from the carpet, and touching the voluminous dome that has amassed atop of her head.

“I told you, I am all powerful. And so are you, and you will never doubt this again, because I have given you this gift to remind you of this power. Stand tall with your head high, and never again doubt that you are less than what I know you are. All powerful.” as Nzinga says this, Chienta rises and nods at her queen. Nzinga gives her hand a squeeze, and smiles as she raises her hands to Chienta’s curly afro. She does a bit of pulling to get it to the right shape, and they both smile. “Now, WE MUST WORK.” she says, and they finally begin their work.

………………………….

“That is so cool!” Kayla exclaims, kicking her feet, and sending the lid to the container of rubber bands flying under the china cabinet.

“Yeah, I know. And after that, they formed a peace treaty with the Portuguese, so now their country was safe.” I tell her, pleased that she now knows the story.

“So if our hair grows like that,why do I always have to wear it down?” Kayla asks. I frown because the answer should be “you shouldn’t have to”, but I tell her the truth.“Men like Nzinga’s brother, and the Portuguese leaders Nzinga and Chienta were fighting still exist Kayla. They like denying the magic of our people, so they try to belittle us. MAke us feel small and not important Back then Nzinga did not tolerate it. Once, she denied wearing Portuguese clothes to a peace meeting, and they denied her a place to sit. But instead of taking that, she sat on the back of one of her servants, to show that she will always have a seat, despite them trying to take her rightful place from her.” at this, Kayla giggles.

“Wow she is even cooler than Mommy told me!” Kayla says

“Yes she was amazing. But, her legacy is not really known, especially not to people who don’t look like us. And because no one knows about the magic our hair holds, they tried to belittle us for having it. People always tend to make fun of the things they have no knowledge of, especially if it is outside of what’s considered normal. But because we aren’t in Africa anymore, our people lost hope, and faith in the magic to survive.” I tell her.

“But it’s not like that anymore, right?” She turns and looks at me with wide eyes.

“No, I guess not so much now” I tell her with a bit of hesitation.

“Well can I wear my hair like that for school? Can I take my braids out and wear it big? Please please please?” she rocks back and forth, hands shaking my legs, making what she thinks is a convincing pout. It is.

“I’ll ask mom when she gets in, she’s coming home soon.” I tell her, with an eye roll.

She gets up, exclaiming and running around the dining room table.

“Yay!! I am going to be all powerful.” she says with a smile looking in the reflective glass of the cabinet.

“Kayla, you already are.”

THE END

Just a little note: The story about the hair is of my creation, but the Queen Nzinga of Ndongo was a real queen!! I encourage everyone to go read about her, because she was badass.