CHAPTER 1
As the sun set over the Indian Ocean, Malik arrived in Zanzibar. He closed his eyes, allowing the intoxicating air of the Jape market to invade him. He tried to identify the source of the fragrance that tingled his nostril, but not being one for detail, he failed.
Opening his eyes, he continued his stroll to no place in particular. He felt the curious stares of the people, but the traders, being more vocal, called “Get Closer Friend.” They invited him to buy from the arrays of merchandise of spices, fruits, fish, trinkets, and clothes they had on display. Malik shook his head and gave a little smile, politely walking past their stalls—today, he just wanted to watch.
Malik had asked his Uber to drop him off and proceed to his hotel with his belongings while he took this stroll. He had decided to come here after a chat with his very chatty Uber driver, who had happily chattered excitedly about the various delights of the town. As they drove past the market, he had spoken about the seren and decluttering effect of walking the alleys of the street market as the excitement of the day drew to a close under the drinking worship of the sunset. Usually, he was one to rest off the jet lag, but his Uber had spoken, and when he looked at the market, something about it called to him. So he decided a walk would be better than a lonely hotel room.
Getting into a wide alley, Malik paused at the reflection of himself in a mirror from a mirror stall among the artful clusters of stalls surrounding him. He was a fine-looking man if the compliments and interest of females were anything to go by, but his looks were not what had him implanted on the spot. His eyes were hollow. The light and twinkling mischief that was usual to his honey-brown eyes was missing. The Uber man had noticed this hollowness, hence his excited chatter about decluttering.
Sighting an alley just by his left, he escaped into it—avoiding the penetrating stare of the mirror. Consumed by his thoughts, he wandered deeper into a narrow alley where beautiful works of art, paintings, sculptures, and sculptures graced the wall. Under the light of the moon, it seemed ethereal – every artwork seemed to come to life.
The words of Saida gutted through him, “This is goodbye Malik”. He clenched his fist in pain. Saida, his Saida, his happy place, who had finally given up on him.
He should have listened to Rash. No woman could permanently stay without commitments…Saida had been different, or so he had thought. They had dated for five years. Even now, he wondered how they had managed that fit. He quickly got bored, but… with her, it had been…bliss and intoxicatingly thrilling. He had felt constantly transported into a fantasy that exceeded his expectations. She had exceeded his expectations. She made no request of him; she just went with the flow, pleasurably torturing him, loving him.
What a fool he had been to think that this bliss would go on forever. A fool to believe that she wouldn’t begin to want the very thing he couldn’t give her –
Marriage, A family.
He groaned. The hurt and frustration of that day hit him afresh.
“A right choice,” a frail voice said behind him. He turned to see a little woman dressed in a black Omani. She had the most bewitching set of black eyes he’d ever seen. Strangely, they reminded him of a well. As he stared in dumb silence, she continued. “A beauty you have there,” he looked at her incredulously and turned to the direction he had nodded to, realising that in his thoughts, he had wandered and had been standing in front of an artwork.
He turned to her to inform her that he wasn’t interested in any artwork but was dumbstruck as he stared into her bewitching eyes. Her eyes were uncomfortable, bare even as though she could see the pathetic mess he was, but he couldn’t bring himself to look away. Then she smiled, showing a perfect set of teeth for someone her age. He stood transfixed, watching as she turned back to the painting which hung in the lower centre of the alley wall. Peeling it from the wall. She turned it vertically and placed it back.
“Look again”, She urged—the knowing smile from before back on her lips.
As he looked, he realised that what he had thought was a mare cluster of clouds with the change in position was indeed a woman locked in the embrace of a man. Something about the image sent shivers down his spine, and he visibly shivered, becoming aware of the lush trees dancing to the rhythm of the evening breeze.
“How… How did you do it?” He stammered. His hands were trembling as he pointed at the painting.
“Not How, but Who are they?”. Again, she surprised him as she bent down – with an ease he’s never seen anyone so old do. She picked up a lantern and brought it closer to the painting. “Not many have been able to see as you have” She winked.
With her free hands, she took his hands and gently pulled him to the painting under the soft glow of the lantern. “ These two are no ordinary lovers. They broke the law. Imagine this… A royal concubine with a coutier–”
CHAPTER 2
Malik woke up with lightning speed as he felt the rude assault of chilled water on his person.
Not being a morning person, he says, “Have you lost your—” The words are lost on him as he sees his sister staring daggers at him dressed in an elegant African Omani dress. The print of the material was one he’d never seen before, and she had accessorised with a crown and jewellery made of gold. Neema, what’s with the weird attire and rude awake?”
His sister approached him. The bangle of gold made a happy chatter as she moved. Looking forbidden, “Malik Nwanba, you will have a care and not speak to me in that manner. I may be your older sister, but I am still the Queen of this Kingdom. Imagine if the servants had been around to witness your outburst. She hissed. He was about to tell her that he’ll not used as one of her acting props when–
A gentle tap distracted him, and immediately, his space was invaded by a small crowd of five people: three females and two males who were also strangely dressed, although their clothing was drab and unassuming. They held robes, jewellery, and content he couldn’t make out in little calabashes on a wooden tray.
“What is going –” he swallowed his words as sharp memories of the previous night flooded him. He had just arrived in Zanzibar, where he had met a strange woman– who he believed was crazy. She had told him about the unfortunate love story between a concubine and a courtier, which she hadn’t finished. He remembered his anger as he left the alley, her words echoing and mocking, “Better to see and live the ending than me telling you.”
He had returned home, and thankfully, sleep came when his head hit the pillow. He couldn’t remember what happened after that, but one thing he knew for sure was that he had come to Zanzibar alone. Then, how was his sister, whom he had left in California, here, and how had he been moved from his hotel room to whatever this African showroom was without his knowledge?
“Neema, what the hell is going on? Did you follow me from California?” he demanded, ignoring the banging headache that had begun to rise.
Ignoring him with the cool grace of a queen, she signalled the strange crowd to leave.
The moment they were out of the room–
Unexpectedly, she swatted him on the head with the handmade fan she held. The effect of the swat was surprisingly painful. Before he had the time to scream his pain, she pulled him by the collar–
“Why am i dressed in this weird attire?” He had a kimono with African print and a very tight pair of black pants. Catching a reflection of himself in a bowl of water on the floor, he froze –
“You will not disrespect me and shame me before the Kingdom. I worked hard to get you this position in the Sultan’s palace. If you fail to show up, forget you have an older sister like me.” Unceremoniously, he fell back to his bed. She reassured him and walked out. He rushed to the bowl of water, ignoring the pain in his butt from when Neema had dumped him on the bed. He looked into the bowl. His hands trembled as he reached to touch his face –
The person staring back at him was one he was familiar with… one from ten years ago. He at twenty three way before he ever came to Zanzibar.
“What is wrong,” Neema said behind him. Her voice clipped in worry.
He turned gently to her, taking her in, and suddenly, it dawned on him. Yes, she was his sister. But this woman standing before him—the woman who was so elegantly dressed—looked older. Still a beauty, she was far removed from the younger sister of twenty-eight he left behind in California.
His heart sank as suspicion formed. “What year is this, and what position am I to take?” he asked slowly, willing her to say this was somehow a prank.
She looked at him as though he were crazy… then sighed and indulged him: “ It’s the year of Sultan Kalif bin Abdul, and you’re to be sworn in as one of his Prestigious Courtiers.”
At those words, he felt a sting in his wrist and looked to realise he had on an amulet. The amulet was the one he had thrown out after leaving the alley where he had met the strange woman. How was this back on his wrists, and how had the crazy woman put it on him in the first place without him noticing?
He had been wrong. She was a witch, not crazy, and now she had him trapped in a dangerous past.
CHAPTER 3
The sun smiled on Sultan Kafil bin Abdul’s haram. The women went about their duties under the watchful eyes of the eunuch. The concubines sat in an aminated chatter as they were being attended to by their maids. These women were beautifully dressed in various jewellery and ornaments that bespoke a readiness for the King’s call.
Farida, the youngest beauty among the pair, said, “ I heard Neema’s brother Malik arrived late for the ceremony.
“It’s Queen Neema. Have a care, Farida. The walls have ears,” The oldest of them, Bupe chided
“Please leave the poor thing. She is only stating the obvious. After all, we are all the king’s women. I don’t see why we have to cower at someone who, if not for the spell she has on the king, is not worth attending to speak more of being Queen,” Leyla snared.
It was no news that Leyla hated Neema. Born the daughter of a nobleman, she hated that she was a concubine, while Neema, who was of a humbler background, was a wife and had the king’s heart. She tried to change her status but has been unsuccessful so far. She blamed this failure on black magic, which she had spread that Neema used to secure the king’s heart.
“You’re just jealous that she managed to get her way again,” Imani, a cute beauty, giggled, earning a glare from Leyla. The king overlooked Leyla’s brother, who was of noble birth and bestowed the title of courtier on Neema’s brother.
Bupe, the oldest and wisest of them, sensing the tension, immediately interfered. “ You looked so lovely yesterday, Leyla. I heard the King sent for you,” she winked, knowing Leyla’s love for compliments.
Leyla, who had been about to attack Imani, blushed delightfully at the compliment. Fanning herself, she smiled dreamily. The Joy on her face dies when she sees Neema approach them in all the elegance and aloofness of a peacock.
“The Peacock is on her way.”
***
Malik followed uncomfortably behind his sister. It was difficult pairing up this aloof woman as the same person as his bubbly sister. Despite the hell of their childhood, the Neema he was used to managed to make out unscared. He remember how jealous it used to make him that she could so easily shake off and move on from things that left people like him permanently messed up. He remembered her words when she learned he had hurt her friend –Saida.
“You can’t keep using your childhood trauma to hurt others. I went through it, too, and here I am, making sure to heal. You either get help or, please, I beg you, stop transferring the venom.”
He had never seen her that mad before or that disappointed look directed at him.
The venom, she called it. She couldn’t have been more right because how he felt could only be the work of a venom. A venom that had been transferred to him by his parent.
Malik shut out his dark thoughts and Schooled his expression as they got close to the women. Concubines she had called concubines. The distaste in her voice when she said the word had revealed the love lost between them.
Silently, he studied the women, wondering which amongst them was to be his downfall. Who was he to have an affair with? He had wanted to avoid everything related to the harem and the palace, but his sister, whom he was realising in this life was not an easy woman to say no to, had forced him here.
He had successfully escaped the festivity after he was sworn in as a courtier to gather his thoughts and find a way out. Back to his life away from this life, which he suspected would lead to death. How had he gotten himself entangled in all this? He should have just gone to his hotel. If he had, he wouldn’t have met the witch. He most definitely won’t be trapped here. For all he knew, this was now his life permanently.
As the women noticed his presence, they quickly veiled themselves, as was customary in this time. For the haram was not accessible to any man other than the King. He had tried to use this reasoning to escape this meeting, but his sister, apparently an agent sent to propel his quick demise, had been adamant, so here he was.
Finally, within speaking proximity to the women, his sister made the introduction. She began with Bupe, a comely beauty who exuded a calmness that reminded him of an ocean after a storm. Imani, the second in the hierarchy, was a unique beauty with brown eyes so light that they looked blond. He saw their mischief and was reminded of himself, so he dared to return her smile. A gesture that had Leyla, the third concubine, staring daggers at him. Rising to the action, he curtsied gallantly as he’d seen the Europeans do. This startles a chuckle out of her. The soft sound radiated a light on her face that revealed her to be the most daring beauty. Was this the one he was doomed to have an affair with?
“Where did you learn that from,” Farida asked, referring to his gallant curtsey. Curiously, she stared at him like one would an intriguing discovery. Her youth face brightened, and she looked at him expectantly. She didn’t look a day past twenty. Her child-like demeanour tugged at something protective within him. How could one so young be subjected to–
“What is the meaning of this disrespect, Neema,” An angry voice boomed with authority.
They all turned to the owner of the voice, and then he saw his karma. She was the one he was cursed to have an affair with. He watched as she blazed past him to his sister Neema, not even sparing him a glance.
How had he forgotten the effect she had on him? How beautifully her ebony skin shone under the service of the sun, casting every other beauty to the shadow while she illuminated the space.
Saida, he breathed without realising he had said it aloud.
CHAPTER 4
“My Lady, you can cry or express your pain. Don’t keep it trapped in,” Amina coaxed. Carefully cleaning her back, which had been ripped by the ruthless lashes of Neema’s whip.
Saida bit her lips. Trying to distract herself from the pain that rushed through her. Threatening to expose how weak she was. She hadn’t given in to pain when her parent had been disgraced and killed for treason. Hadn’t cried when Kafil had disrespected their betroyal and made her a concubine while he made Neema a wife. She hadn’t cried then when she thought the pain of her loss would kill her. Most definitely, she wouldn’t now.
“Carry on, Amina. Don’t worry about me,” she said in a controlled voice that surprised her.
She hears Amina sniff. “I know it isn’t my place to say, but you shouldn’t have involved yourself. You know Neema hates your guts and would take delight in causing you pain’ Saida could hear the tears in Amina’s voice as she spoke. “Why, then, do you readily walk into her trap?”
Gently, Saida rises from the bed where she had been lying face down. The movement sent great pain rushing through her, but she concealed it as easily as she had every hurt she’d had to live through so far. “Someone had to put her in her place. The guts of her bring a man into the harem.”
“This stranger is her little brother.”
“Little brother? There was nothing little about the man I saw today” Yes, he’d look young, but something about him gave off this jadedness she couldn’t describe.
“She had ensured the women were properly dressed before she allowed him in”, Amina muttered.
“ I couldn’t care less who he is. She knows the rule, but as always, she doesn’t care about anyone but herself,” she spat.
“The other women didn’t seem to mind.” Amina rose, taking the bowl of water, which by now had become cold. “You… you’ve been strange lately,” she said after setting the bowl on the tiger skin-covered floor.
She returned to the bed and gently began to coat Saida’s bruised back with a healing balm made of honey and mint leaves. As the balm’s soothing effect spread around her skin, Saida contemplated Amina’s words.
Amina was right. She has been different lately, even though she couldn’t tell why. Her behaviour of late has been crancky and rash.
The memories of the afternoon returned. She had slapped Neema’s brother. The slap, truth be told, had surprised her, as it had everyone. She didn’t know what had possessed such a reaction out of her, but the intimate way he had called her name had offset her. One moment, she was on her way to confront Neema; the next, she had her palm planted on the young man’s face.
This was unlike her. “ I didn’t mean to hit him.”
She couldn’t explain the weird connection she felt as the hands touched his face. It was alien to her but also felt like a recognition—but to what exactly?
Amina sighed. “But why did you? Did he do anything wrong?”
This questioning came as no shock, as she was done feeling shocked that no one but her had heard him whisper her name so intimately as though they were lovers. Lovers? What was she saying? First, she had overreacted; now, she was overthinking things. There was nothing intimate about the way he had called her name.
“You’re lucky he helped you because only the gods knew what Neema would have done.”
Turning abruptly to face Amina. The ointment almost slipped off her hand. Saida manages to catch it. ‘ What do you mean by he helped me?”
“Words I gathered say that he approached the Sultan and managed to get him to intervene and stop Neema.”
CHAPTER 5
Malik strolled, surrounded by the lush bliss of nature. He was realising that strolling helped him cope with the environment he was forced to belong in, especially in this place that would be Jape market two centuries later.
He took in the environment silently, marvelling at the difference now. If the uberman thought the evening view at Peja market was a worship. What would he think of this morning view where the very blue ocean, surrounded by a luscious mass of green nature, was adorned in the light of the rising sun? The rising sun glowed, transforming from red to an intense orange, which lightened to pure gold. The effect of these various transformations batted the ocean with a mesmerising and glorious light. The sight reminded him greatly of the future Paje market brimming and buzzing with vibrancy and colours.
The discovery of this place was by chance. One morning, when he woke up frustrated with this forced existence –
He had to return to the future… to his real life… to Saida.
He touched his cheeks, a grin breaking out as he remembered the slap. She didn’t know this, but he deserved a slap and more for the pain he’d put her through in the future.
Neema had been in a rage, in a monster mood. She had Sida dragged out to be punished. He grimaced. He hoped the Sultan had intervened in time and stopped his sister from hurting her. The feeling of helplessness and fear that gripped him when she had been taken away was one he never wanted to experience in his life. He had almost given himself away in a bid to save her. It had been a gamble approaching the Sultan, but the risk was worth it for her. He had wanted to see her to ensure she was unhurt and safe, but he knew he could not go against the Sultan’s instruction – that he stayed away from the harem.
And so he will. He will stay away for both their sakes. His first appearance in this life had already put her in danger, and he couldn’t harm her any further. He had to find a way to get away from whatever this mirage was.
Malik hears a rustling ahead of him. Taking out the sword from his robe, he approaches the direction of the sound, careful not to scare what he suspected was an animal, as no one ever came to this place this early.
When he was close enough, he realised it was not an animal but a woman. One whose body he could make out despite the layers of clothes that aptly hid her. She wore a plain black Omani dress with a thick veil around her head. Save for her eyes and hands, everything else was well hidden.
“Saida” he blurted out without thinking. What was she doing here –alone?
“You!” Saida said. He didn’t miss the tremor of fear he saw in her mesmerising night-black eyes. “I meant you have the wrong person, my lord,” she lied, lowering her eyes and slightly turning away.
He would have believed it if his body hadn’t responded to her. Why was she pretending not to know him? “Really? Then pardon my mistake,” he bowed gallantly to her.
“No need for a pardon. You can be on your way. Don’t let me not keep you,” She said dismissively. This rose a suspicion within him. Was she here to see a lover? The thought filled him with a wounding bout of jealousy he’d never thought himself capable of. The idea of her having another lover who wasn’t him filled him with a monstrous rage.
“Are you waiting for someone?” His voice came out cold and demanding. He saw a slice of anger in her eyes at his audacity.
After a little moment of contemplation. “Not that it’s any of your concern, but I am.”
“A lover?” He heard the tremor in his voice as he spoke, but he didn’t care.
“No, my husband. You should go now. He’ll be here anytime soon and will not be happy meeting you here.” She was lying again. It was a hard pill to swallow that his Siada would have anyone other than him. He knew this was the past, but he couldn’t control the poison of jealousy that spread within him.
“Why wouldn’t he?” he asked, approaching her. She backed up as he got close, but he caught her hands, trapping her in his hold.
Her eyes open in shock as she struggles to free herself. “You brute, what do you think you’re doing? Let go of me, my husband–”
“Quit lying, woman. There is no husband”, he coldly interrupted her. “Unless you speak of the Sultan, who i am sure has no idea that his concubine is secretly meeting up with her lover.”
Saida gaps in shock. “You animal. You knew all along.”
CHAPTER 6
“I’ve been waiting for you” was the first thing he heard Saida say as he met her by the sea bank. That word would have inspired romantic notions within him if she wasn’t glaring at him.
He took in her appearance this morning and whined. He missed seeing her in those appealing dresses and jeans that flattered her curves. He missed seeing her generous body in a bathing suit or the beautiful sight of her in nothing but his shirt. Most importantly, he missed the feel of her skin, which was soft, ample, and had maddening curves pressed against his. Willing, driving him crazy with pleasure. But here she was draped in this aggravating black attire that did nothing but emphasise her dark mood and conceal her.
“Don’t you have something else to wear?”. He whined, seeing the hurt in her eyes at his words. He shouldn’t have said that.
“Pardon me. I had no idea that part of this forced arrangement of yours included a flamboyant attire,” She said sarcastically. Snatching the basket containing fruits and food of bananas, finely sliced coconuts, fish, etc. She walked ahead to where their mat was spread under a mass of tall leaves that gave the impression of a gazebo.
There, she focused on setting up their little feast into little calashes, which she did with a vigour that proclaimed her dark mood.
He moved close and took his seat. The tension heightened between them. “I’m sorry –”
Raising her hands, she snapped, “ Save the apology.” She dropped the calabash and moved to stand in front of him, peering down at him like an errant child. “I want out of whatever this is,”
The arrangement she spoke of was one he wasn’t proud of. He had backmailed her into spending time with him after discovering her here. At first, he had been blinded by jealousy when he thought she had been there to meet a secret lover, but now, after spending time with her, he knew she only came here to escape the worries of her life.
He knew this private meeting of theirs was a dangerous one that would have them killed before any question was asked if they were discovered, but despite knowing this, he could not stop himself from seeing her.
“I’m hungry”. Blurting out the first thing that came to mind.
She looked at him incredulously.” Did you not hear what I just said? I want out of this arrangement,” she said, angrily emphasising each word.
Taking her hand, Malik smiled indulgently, pulling her down to the mat. “Let’s eat.”
Saida snatched her hands back as though she couldn’t bear his touch “ You must be possessed with the spirit of madness. We risk being discovered every time we meet like this” She began to walk” i’m leaving. You can report me to the Sultan and your sister if you want. Death at this point is better than being made to be a thing of amusement for your childish wimp.”
Immediately, he rushed after her. Catching her at the bank of the sea.
”Don’t you dare lay those filthy hands on me”, Snatching her hands back. “ You have no right to touch me. You have no right to address me by my name as though we have a special relationship. I am the Sultan’s woman, not yours.”
Each word hit him hard. Hurting him, “A woman he’s never touched”, he said without thinking.
She was struck dumb momentarily and then slapped him across the face. He felt like shit as he saw the tears in her eyes before she ran away.
Malik ran after her, but this time, he didn’t catch her as quickly as he had the other time.
When he got close enough to her, he doubled his speed and intercepted her, blocking her path.
“Move.”She glowered, pushing him.
He captured her hands, pinning them on his chest. The feel of her hands on him was familiar, perfect, and thrilling. “I’m sorry. I didn’t… I crossed the line. Please forgive me.”
Saida thrashed wildly. “For what exactly? From the first day we’ve met, you’ve been taunting me. It’s not enough that your sister finds every opportunity to make my life miserable. You decide to take the humiliation further. Forcing me to come out here every morning when I don’t and now disrespecting me with your words.”
“Because I care,” he said, shocking both of them. ”I’m sorry that my sister makes your life hell. But the truth is I made you come out here because I care.”
Gently, he cups her face with his free hand. Looking into her eyes, ‘You might find it hard to believe because I’m a brother to your arch-enemy, but I care about you. This sadness. The pain I see right now in your eyes. I want to replace it with a spark, laughter.” He kissed the lid of her eyes where a tear had escaped.”
“Wow, wow. What a heartfelt confession. It almost saddens me to break up the union.”
The blood drained from Malik’s face as Saida fell to the ground, clutching an arrow that had missed his stomach by only a few inches. He looked up and saw Bupe with some men. The intensity and wildness in her gaze paused him, and then, at once, the memories came flooding back like a wicked wind.
Bupe had been the courtesan with whom he’d had an affair.
“No!” he screamed, clutching Saida, who was now gasping blood from her mouth.
CHAPTER 7
“Did you finally get to know the ending?”
Malik looked up from the boot of the car he had just shut into a pair of bewitching black eyes. “I know you … the witch ” He had gone looking for her – after he had woken from the time travel, but no one seemed to know who she was. But for the memory of his past life, he would have thought her a figment of his imagination.
She smiled despite his reference to her as a witch. “I take it you appreciated my gift.”
He could not help but return her smile. Amazing how knowledge can easily change one’s perspective. “You were right. Seeing and living the end despite how painful it still feels was better than you telling me.”
She nodded. “If I had told you you were the courtier, you wouldn’t have believed me. Or arrive at the realisation you have now.”
She was right. Not only would he have doubted her, but he would have thought her crazy. “Thank you,” he said after a while. He handed her a wad dollars from his wallet.
“I do not want the white man’s currency, son,” She said, surprising him. “I want something else from you.”
“Tell me,” Malik said
Her frail hands found his. “ The past you went back to, that’s the one I want you to draw from moving on, not the ugliness of your childhood.” She stroked his hand as one would a beloved pet. “Can you do that?” she challenged.
The mention of his childhood reminded him of how at ten, he had discovered his parent lying butt naked and dead after overdosing on ecstasy. They had died taking with them his innocent prayers of having a perfect family with a drug-free parent. “I can”, He managed to say. For Saida, he would. Mostly for himself, he would heal and become better. He had this life to love freely, and he wouldn’t let his trauma be a “Bupe” against them.
Her eyes searched his for a while, as though she were searching for any falsity in his words. “Kwaheri,” she smiled. This smile was void of the mysteriousness of her other smile. It felt almost… fond.
“Goodbye,” He smiled, reechoing what she said in English.
The crisp voice of the announcer alerting him of his flight through the public address system distracted him for a second. By the time he looked back, the mysterious woman was gone—vanished.
He touched the burnt orange amulet she had given as his heart swelled in gratitude. He lifted the amulet to his lips and whispered to it, “I’ll be back.”
But for now he was going to get back the gift Zanzibar had given him.
