Mystery Child Book 4: Mysterious entry into Mangoshi Kingdom

AS THE SUN was sinking down behind the Mangoshi hills, Mystery Child and his mother were approaching a border post of the Mangoshi Kingdom. There were not many people still at the border; those that were denied entry due to insufficient documentation were returning home with their sombre beaten faces.  Along the way, Mystery Child’s mother had picked up some fragments of people’s conversation citing their unfortunate circumstances had wrecked their chances of admittance into the lavish kingdom where it was widely known that no one in that kingdom went to sleep hungry and people were very humble and magnanimous, yet were ruled by a young queen of just twenty.

By and by, they arrived at the border, a portly man with a pregnant-like stomach and bowed legs motioned them to the reception centre. Mystery Child was sitting at the back of his mother secured by her wrapper that went over her shoulder like a sling. The portly man looked suspiciously at the child; the child gazed at him with laughing eyes. At the reception, the buxom woman sitting behind a computer in a long loose-fitting robe and big round earrings dangling down threatening to break off from the ears greeted them with a huge infectious smile.

‘Good day, my old lady,’ greeted the woman.

‘Good day, madam.’

‘What can I do for you?’

‘My child and I are seeking refuge in your glorious kingdom,’ said Mystery Child’s mother, gazing unblinking at the woman.

‘Where are you coming from?’

‘From Chidedza village.’

‘Which country is that?’

‘Nyasalove.’

‘Nya-sa?’

‘I understand Nyasalove is a peaceful country. Why do you seek refuge in our kingdom?’

‘We’ve been banished by the chief?’

‘Why? You are an old woman, what did you do to him?’

A few minutes elapsed before the mother could speak. A voice in her head shouted: Lie! Abraham lied to Egyptian authorities that Sarah was not his wife but a sister, and was granted entry. Lie!

She slung down her child who slumped down to the ground and sat in the lotus position. I want to see what would had happen if Abraham told the authorities the truth, she assured herself. But the voice in her head demanded her to lie and not tell them the truth. The Mother of Others as Mystery Child mother would be fondly called in the Mangoshi Kingdom had no ounce of lies engraved on her mind; the truth was the only lie that was in there. Abraham would not have lied hence he did not know what Word would have done to him. “I’m not telling lies; it is wrong to lie in order to receive something that would not have gotten your way – that is unacceptable to the heart that is unaccustomed to lies.

The woman looked at her watch and at the Mother of Others for a time before she spoke.

“Do you want us to help you?’

‘Okay, we were banished because of my child.’

‘What did a child do that a chief should banish you both?’

“He is a Mystery Child.”

‘What you mean?’

‘A blessed child.’

‘So, the child would bless this kingdom?’ joked the woman with a suppressed chuckle.

‘Of course.’

‘So, your chief does not want the blessing?’ asked the woman tentatively.

‘This child is so gifted, he does everything in the opposite,’ Mother of Others spilt the legumes.

‘What?’

The woman was gobsmacked.

Then on her own accord, the child walked backwards to a big plaque plastered on the opposite wall and engrossed himself in perusing it.

‘Can he read?’

‘Yes.’

‘How old is he?’

‘He is older than you.’

‘Me! I am 30 years old,’ said the woman stabbing her index finger on her chest for emphasis.

‘He is even older than me.’

‘How old are you?’

‘I’m seventy-five years old.’

‘Is this child your child?’

‘Yes, my only child.’

‘Where on earth did you hear that a child is older than his mother?’

‘Didn’t you read somewhere in the Book of People that the son of man was older than his parents?’

The woman’s hand vaulted to her mouth close in awe.

‘What is this?’ asked the Mystery Child pulling down the plaque.

‘Leave that!’ shouted the woman.

‘All these are lies!’

‘Those are the rules of this Kingdom and whoever enters this kingdom must read them and commit them to memory, no one breaks those rules. It is Her Majesty Queen Sophy’s Manual of Sanity. They are sacred, do not profane them otherwise you would be arrested or thrown away from this kingdom,’ said the woman feverishly shaking for no one had dared challenge the rule of Queen Sophy.

Manual of Sanity of the People of Mangoshi Kingdom

This is now my time and what I would do would definitely please everyone: especially women. This kingdom has only realised now that I am the only one I ought to bring this house in order to all mankind, and have vowed that I won’t be so kind as my predecessor (my father) who had a sparing the rod and spoiling a child type of leadership. If someone steals in my time, I shall cut off that hand – no questions! Adulterers shall be stoned to death – no questions! If you kill, you shall be killed – no questions! People have messed up the world big time! You shall be judged as you live not hereafter! People were created to live in peace, love and harmony and no other way round! Every human being is as important as every grain of sand on a beach. If you got too much wisdom and want to use it to your advantage you shall pay dearly for that wisdom. If you invent something that would pose threat to mankind, you shall be killed – no questions! Every universal useful wisdom comes from above! No woman shall walk out of her house bareheaded or expose her flesh! Contravening this rule invites yourself fifty lashes on your palms. Only my rules shall guide mankind whether you like it or not – it is an order from above, your erstwhile books must be abandoned or destroyed!

Love

Children must be loved so much so that they are overwhelmed by it, inasmuch as they can give back the love they receive from us tenfold. Man and a woman should cohabit during procreation performed in the confinement of the procreative factory of marriage when nature is consulted and bind it. A man should love his fellow man like a pair of scissors without the other the scissor loses its name.

Friendship

 A true friend is like a hand that washes the other – a pair of scissors without one blade cannot execute its purpose. No man or woman can claim to live in harmony with oneself. A man or woman who enjoys their own company are lame and need clutches to think straight – a canoe cannot stir itself to its destiny without an oar. Why Word created millions and millions of people and continue to create them who cannot live together in harmony, sharing equally the bread of life? If so, he could have created one man! Can the sun enjoy alone its own light? You who think you’re so powerful in lore and money so that you condemn your fellow man to subservience; you’re but venal goons deservedly to be wiped out by the mercy of the Word.

A man who eats while his hungry friend pukes from the pong of his food is not a glutton, but a devil’s friend.  Is this a good friend who goes to work alone in his five-seater sedan car while driving by a pedestrian in pelting rain walking to work?

A threat to human existence is the continuous demonic institutionalisation and improvisation of the minds of ordinary people (especially the downtrodden) that stunts their metaphysical growth – this is the secret weapon of the rich. For a rich man to feed a needy genuinely, he must first taste the hunger of the needy. Word’s words cannot fill up a book, for Word did not stop talking – Word is still speaking to us every day!

Money

A rich man knows the value and use of money when he’s bankrupt; and a poor man when he has become rich. The money the husband or a woman hides from the other always builds the foundation of their house. The money that you can see and fill up your pocket is more useful than the one you cannot see. A poor man sees and guards his precious coin while the rich man cannot see his millions, let alone other people use his money in banks at exorbitant interest.

Ideas are abstract and more monetary in value than the physical money. He or she who can generate sellable ideas can run the gauntlet. The race of life that starts on a beach of gold always ends on the shore of silver – such is a fact. The heart that loves money always dies poor! A good man always loses his ecclesiastical medal when both women and money captivate his heart.

‘No one cannot mistreat nor throw into jail a Mystery Child,’ growled the child.

‘Who?’

‘You heard me!’

‘Please Sir, my child and I are very exhausted, can’t you just let us go into the kingdom,’ pleaded Mother of Others.

‘We can’t allow you entry into the kingdom without valid travelling documents, at least an emergency passport would do,’ said the officer.

‘My child and I have been banished from our village, so who do you think would give us the papers, huh?’

‘Your child alone disqualifies you from being granted asylum: he is dangerous to our kingdom and world order and the Queen herself would be very angry if we allow your child to enter into the kingdom,’ said the officer.

‘My child is no ordinary child like the one you got at home,’ said the Mother of Others, ‘This one is a blessed child and has eyes at the back of his head, he can see what we cannot see. He does what ordinary people cannot do. He is a blessing to have in this kingdom.’

‘Why did the chief banish him if he is so precious child to have in our midst?’

‘Good question!’

‘My Mystery Child knows what we don’t know and can explain the past even though he was by then not in this world,’ said Mother of others.

‘You are right, mother. We come from somewhere before we’re sent to this world through the woman, that is why when we die our souls return home to rest, for we never rest whilst we are in this world,’ said Mystery Child flashing laughing eyes at the officer.

‘You are only a child, how do you know that?’

“I am older than you even though you are fat and tall,’ said Mystery Child.

‘Enough of your impudence! For that you have taken even away an ounce of poignancy that I had, I wanted to help you and your mother to get asylum in a fraudulent way but cannot, you seem to be a very unruly child not wanted to live amongst our people.’

‘For now, I have ceased to crave for a place in your kingdom. In fact, I can foresee the kingdom crumbling once I set my foot in. I cannot tolerate the hand of totalitarian Queen subjugating people to dissonance,’ said the Mystery Child firmly.

‘That is why we cannot grant you asylum; you’re a threat to our cherished peace and ethos of our kingdom,’ said the officer gravely.

‘Don’t worry about me, just grant my mother asylum; it is what she needs, as for me I’m returning home,’ said Mystery Child in a tone that brooked no further fray.

He wobbled to his mother and pecked her on the cheek and whispered something in her ear. And he started walking towards the east, the high hills from far appeared like an impenetrable wall that rose high up and touched the sky. Mother of Others stood rooted to the ground waving at her son marching backwards without an ounce of perturbation registered on her brow. However, the officer stood poleaxed as he watched the distance swallowing up the child.  The Mother of Others picked up an empty Coca-Cola bottle as instructed by the child and kept it firmly in her hand and then stashed it away under her wrapper. After a while as the border post was about to close, the officer took pity on the hag and granted her an asylum. Mother of Others with a dancing heart entered the kingdom with one officer who had keys to her allocated council house for the refugees.

***

It was getting dark by now. The street lights had just been switched on. The kingdom glowed like day; one could pick up a dropped pin on the pavement. The Queen’s palace perched on hills looked like one giant ball blazing in suspension, its slanting domes and castles burned with myriad lights. It was a marvel to watch and Guards of Honour could be seen standing on the ringed fence and appearing like ants from the distance. The automobile that carried Mother of the Others drove at a snail’s place. The streets were very quiet and deserted. The roads were splendidly tarmacked and paved; no speck of refuse could be seen. The council houses were brick houses with conical roofs so sharp that could cut a stray branch of a tree. The jacaranda trees that lined the side of the street shielded the houses from the sun, and the balmy breeze that whined through the trees and the scent of blossomed flowers filled the air. The Mother of the Others was dropped at 73 DE house, a double-storey apartment, well-furnished and the scent of fresh paint still hang in the house. The next apartment lights were on and they heard the thrust of the key when The Mother of Others slotted the key into the key-hole. There was a quick flip of curtains parting and a shout of welcome boomed from the house: Twa-po-che-le! Mother of Others could not understand the words. The kingdom’s language which was Ciao and widely spoken in the kingdom. Soon a pat-patter of running slippers clobbering the asphalt pavement were heard coupled with raucous laughter approaching the house. The neighbour Mr. and Mrs. Kalunga brought with them a tray of food. George Kalunga, a tall and athletic built man with legs powerfully taut, calves exposed from his shorts was standing behind his young wife, her round face with kneaded dimples and wide grin played about her face. Her short hair was excellently cut and wore no make-up. They’re standing at the door and could see inside as Mother of Others left the door ajar. It was moderately warm outside and the breeze that wafted through the door cooled the inside temperature. Vanessa Kalunga rapped softly on the door. Mother of Others who had not yet made a good tour of the house heard the soft knocks while she was busy in the toilet. She left everything and hurried to answer the door.

‘We’re Vanessa and George, welcome to Mangoshi Kingdom,’ they chorused.

‘Come in.’

They walked in and sat down on cane chairs. Vanessa put down the tray of food on the table and joined her husband at the two-seater table. Next to the tray of the food stood the Coca-Cola bottle that Mother of Other picked up at the border.

‘Welcome to Mangoshi said George, ‘and we have brought you Shitopoilo, the delicious and staple food of the kingdom.’

‘What a weird name?’ said Mother of Others.

‘It is high in protein content, high in multi-vitamins and fibre, boosts the immune system and resistance to diseases,’ said Vanessa.

‘You must be long in this kingdom.’ 

‘We arrived yesterday?’ said Vanessa.

‘Where are you from?’

‘We’re coming from Bantustan?’ said George.

‘And we’re coming from Nyasalove!’ said a voice from the bottle. Vanessa and George were so stunned and jumped up from their seat in fear when they saw the bottle moving. It jumped up and landed down with a thunk without breaking against the tiled floor. The Mystery Child caromed off from the bottle and stood up among them.

‘That is my son!’ yelled Mother of Others proudly.

The couple raced out of the house in astonishment and fear, past their house shouting: ‘People! Come out!’

Soon the whole neighbourhood zoomed out of their houses and confronted the dazed couple.

‘What is the matter?’ asked Zim Zam, a man with a square head.

‘We have seen a miracle at house number 73 DE,’ said George.

‘What miracle?’

‘The son of that old woman came out of a Coca-Cola bottle.’

‘You’re lying!’ said a man with a square head.

‘Where is he?’ chanted the young men. They started marching to house 73 DE. The Guards of Honour doing their patrolling stopped by. One officer jumped out of the car and traipsed to the house. The people made way for the fat officer whose trunk-like feet made a thudding sound as they clobbered the ground. The door to the house was ajar.

‘What’s the matter?’ asked the officer.

‘A child of an old woman came out of the bottle,’ said George.

‘Nga-ko-mbo-le-ka!’ cried the officer in Ciao.

The Mother of Others heard the commotion outside. She advised her child to hide, lest they would be thrown out of the kingdom.

‘I am a gifted and magic kid. They cannot see me but I can see them.’

A thunderous knock resounded into the house.

‘Can I come in,’ boomed a voice like a drum. The officer without waiting for a response pushed the door open and shoved himself in. He had found Mother of the Others busy cooking, her apron soiled with tomatoes that she had been chopping on a wooden board.

‘I’m coming, Sir,’ said Mother of the Others. She curtsied before the officer and offered her a seat.

‘Sorry, our elder for budging in like this. Reports outside say you have a mysterious child in this house, and can enter into a bottle, is that right?’

‘I have a child indeed.’

‘Where is he?’

‘I am standing next to you?’ said the Mystery Child.

‘Where are you?’ cried the officer poleaxed. He turned around but could see no one.

‘Our elder, aren’t you playing games with me?’

‘What game?’

‘Why do you change your voice to a child’s voice? I know you are the one who said the words.’

‘Please leave us in peace!’ cried the child.

‘Where are you?’ The officer in writhing madness ran around the house scouring for the child.

‘Come here show your face.’

A thunderous pearl of laughter quaked the house. And the confounded concourse outside waited with bated breath to see the mysterious child. But the officer was taking long; the man with a square head trundled into the house and found the officer running around the house calling for a mysterious child. The other officer who was sitting in the automobile jumped off and raced into the house. The woman officer with a shaved head and big round earrings dangling on her ears shoved herself into the house.

‘Where is the child?’ cried the woman officer.

‘I am outside,’ cried the Mystery Child. The officers raced out in pursuit of the child who said he was now outside. The people outside, stunned by the drama looked at each other in awe. The officers jumped into the automobile and lunged into thin air. Then a long mocking laugh pierced the air.

‘Vamoose!’ was heard in the distance but so strident in every ear of the people. The stunned people dispensed and left for their respective homes. Some people assured themselves that by the next morning the truth would be known and the mysterious child would be caught by the kingdom’s famous magician, Al’habah. 

Al’habah was the descendant of the most famous magician to have ever lived on earth, Markus Mandel (who revolted against the slave masters at a Caribbean Island and set a horde of fellow slaves free), famous for parting the great Atlantic Sea with a rod and fled back to Afrika, and when the masters followed them, were drowned when the sea re-joined. Al’habah had trained with world-famous magicians at the Lyceum College of Magic on the Greek Island. He was a very gifted magician and respected in the world of magic and fighting skills. He could speak to unborn babies in the wombs of their mothers. The majority of the unborn babies refused to be born after they were shown video clips of how people lived in the world. Those pregnancies in which the unborn babies refused to be born, Al’habah made them disappear, so the children born in this kingdom were well aware of how life would be when they were born. Al’habah could walk on air; move a house with just a shot of breath at it. He could summon his magic and order the mountain to part in half. He was the only magician to part in half Mount Everest and made Mount Kilimanjaro disappear for a week. It was undoubtedly that he knew that the kingdom had been invaded by another mysterious magician.

Al’habah lived at the palace with Her Majesty Queen Sophy. He was not that old. He was in his early thirties. A very handsome man: he was athletically built and very fair in complexion. His trademark attire of a long turquoise robe and the red band round his head and a long spear, worn across his back commanded a commandeering presence whenever he went. He was the general commander of the kingdom’s army, Good d’ Baddy. People did not worry much about the coming of the mysterious child into the kingdom. They were assured that their life would be protected and if the mysterious child came to the kingdom to cause mayhem would be dealt with and defeated, and thrown out of the kingdom in a second, by the great Al’habah.

***

The next morning the news about the Mystery Child was on every tongue in the entire kingdom and undoubtedly that Her Majesty had heard of the child. In main cities like Azure, and Goodrose, the news was a buzz and people were eager to see the mysterious child. It was known that if the child was in the kingdom to debilitate the kingdom’s cohesion would not succeed, as the kingdom was guarded by the famous, dangerous magician, Al’habah. As the sun was ascending the morning arc with friendly rays free of disturbing clouds, Guards of Honour were marching silently to DE 73 house. People came out of their houses to watch the contingent of the army without their swords and axes marching uniformly – the sound of lifting and throwing down their booted feet clobbering the asphalt resounded afar. The leader of the Guards was carrying a small branch of the tree with multi-coloured leaves. The branch was fleshly cut and dripped of sap coalesced at the stem. The tree was known as Mandirindiri in Ciao language and was mainly found growing in the palace. It was brought to the kingdom by Al’habah who was given it by his master on the Greek Island. As they were about to enter Chipwitipwiti Street in which DE 73 house was located, the Guards were astounded; the guard at the rear when he turned his head back, saw house DE 73 following them. He tried to shout to his fellow guards to stop and look back but would not listen. When at last the army turned back the house disappeared and a scuffle ensued amongst the army. Then at last the leader ordered them to continue marching. The guard at the rear asked the leader to come to the back and see for himself if he was lying. He listened and ordered the march to continue. He was throwing and catching the branch of the tree in the air like a juggler; abruptly the branch of the tree caromed off from his hand and disappeared. And a long piercing mocking laugh was heard and the guards stopped in their tracts.

‘I have lost my magic tree branch!’ cried the leader.

‘Here’s your tree branch, go back to the palace and tell your Al’habah what you have just seen,’ said the Mystery Child appearing before him, an aura of golden bright light that encircled him dazzled the confounded soldiers. In a brink of an eye, the Mystery Child disappeared into thin air. The soldiers like stunned cornered antelopes by hungry lions started marching back to the palace. The leader, Mozeh the lead and the rest in tandem face beaten by failure and fear of the hostile reception at the palace. They were marching silently, the wind that howled through the leaves of jacaranda trees that lined the streets dispensing their silence. An owl hooted above them as it raced at supersonic speed toward the palace. Although they had failed to capture the Mystery Child and brought him before the Al’habah; they’re somehow at peace for the wrath of the Al’habah would definitely be directed at their leader Mozeh, who had been powered by a magic tree branch but failed to execute his job.     

The Queen’s palace was built on hills, and a network of streets curved down the contours of the hills from the palace to the Azure City. At the water fountain before the museum stood the giant statue of King Heston Bunder. It is said that young Heston Bunder left Mangoshi Kingdom when he was just thirteen years with a white missionary who had come to disseminate the Word of Secret written by the hands of the dead. Many people had wondered how a family could allow their small boy to go to a far country over the great seas with a stranger. His father King Heston Bunder 1, a great friend of Sir John Eatspoon consented of taking his son to Whiteland to learn the Word of Secret written by the hands of the dead.

Young Heston left with the white man in 1911 via Eastland, where they took a ship to Whiteland. In Whiteland young Heston met other fellow blacks from Afrika continent. Kwawe Nkubwa from Ghabana, Jomojomo Kanyota from Eastland, Louis Handstrong, Afrikan-American who later became his close friend and killed him, and stole his identity and impersonated him. Young Heston Bunder did not forget home, he kept on writing letters to his Queen Mother and King Heston Bunder 1 and uncles. The king was very happy when he received his letters written in the Whiteland language which he understood well as his friend Sir John Eatspoon had taught him.

The king was very delighted that his heir would come home, his brain stocked with Whiteland’s wisdom and Word of Secret that only people of Whiteland received from the secret chambers of Haven, a supreme kingdom of which the entire human race believed they would one day inherit and live foreve if only one’s heart was pure and blessed by the Spirit of the Light.

When the news of King Heston Bunder 1’s death reached his son in Whiteland, he was very devastated and his friend Louis Handstrong knew that his friend would become king in Mangoshi. One day he took young Heston Bunder on a ride on a motorcycle and killed him and threw his body into the Thames River and impersonated him. He had learnt young Heston Bunder’s language Ciao though he could not speak fluently. When he returned to the hostel in Inner Village after a month of vacation to the east of Whiteland where he went for surgery to change his physical identity to Heston Bunder, no one could notice any change Louis Handstrong acted just like Heston Bunder Jr.  In 1950 the High Council of the Kingdom of Mangoshi decide to call Heston Bunder to come home and take the throne. Louis Handstrong received this letter and promised them that he would come once he had finished his studies. Seven years passed and the High Council were furious with him and ordered him to come forthwith and use his wisdom to drive away the colonial masters who were threatening to dismantle the kingdom and turn it into a colony of Whiteland.

Louis Handstrong, now Heston Bunder impersonate left Whiteland in 1956 and stopped at his friend’s country, Ghabana. His friend Kwawe Nkubwa was in a battle to drive away the colonial masters who were ruling his country. At last, he drove them away and became the first black president of his country.

In 1958 Louis Handstrong, now Heston Bunder landed at Chilieca airport. There were thousands and thousands of people gathered at the airport to welcome the son of the soil who had been away for almost forty years guzzling books in the Whiteland. There was a commotion and jostling and pushing; fighting for a space to get a glimpse at the Prince-Heir. When the door of the aeroplane flung open, there was a pall of silence for a minute as people held their breath. A few minutes passed; their object of curiosity was taking longer to get out of the aeroplane. When finally, he appeared at the doorway waving a white flywhisk, people were stunned. He was short, and fair in complexion. His uncle’s and aunt’s faces quickly lost their colour of extremely jubilation to intrigue. They looked at each other in awe, their faces laded with questions as to whether the Prince-Heir who was descending down from the aeroplane was indeed the true son of Mangoshi. Zudy the leader of the High Council welcomed him and his uncle and aunt upon touching the soil. They hurried to the carriage, the people ran to line up the streets waving flags of Mangoshi Kingdom – Red, Black and Green. The carriage sped up to the palace, and the people followed it whilst singing songs of jubilation to welcome the Prince-Heir.

Two days later, it transpired that the uncle to the Prince-Heir told the High Council that the Prince-Heir was not the same nephew he saw leaving with Sir John Eatspoon to the Whiteland –he was an impostor. The leader of the High Council, Zuby tried to convince, Mwasewe 1, the uncle that he was the real prince they had been waiting for.

‘If he is our real prince, why he cannot speak our language?’ quizzed Mwasewe.

‘He has stayed long in the Whiteland anyone can forget his language. Remember, he left when he was thirteen years and lived forty years in a foreign land,’ said Zuby.

‘But still, he cannot completely forget his mother tongue language!’

‘He will learn the language very quickly.’

‘And look he has even forgotten our ways. Tomorrow, Al’habah would examine him using his magic and herbs to determine if he is indeed one of our own, I dismiss this meeting,’ said the regent.

***

The kingdom of Mangoshi was under siege, and the Forces of Revenge from the Darkworld were marching to the kingdom led by their invincible leader, Commander-in-chief, Jabuloz. They were coming to the kingdom to kill the magician, Al’habah whom they claimed killed and sent them to the Darkworld known as Helluvah. They were coming to put a stop to his killings of unborn babies in the kingdom. They’re drenched in blood-red stripes. They’re heavily built, strong, and short in stature. They were bare from the waist clad in improvised white nappies and carried their bows and arrows whose sharp heads engraved a symbol of a foetus. They were extremely vengeful and vicious – killing was their pleasure. They looked like humans but appeared underdeveloped better they call themselves, Half-Human. They summoned the magic – the strong wheezing wind rattled the kingdom doors open. The great golden shaft of light sailed to the chamber where Al’habah was reclined in his hammock, a big tome in his hands.

To be continued…

*Mystery Child Books 1,2,3 are available on Amazon. Book 4 is only available here on Paulet House Stories