Birth of a Dark Nation (35 page)

Justin sat as still as a stone.

"You feel me?" I asked.

He vigorously nodded his head and grabbed my
hand. His mouth quivered and he barely eked out a whisper.

"I love you, too."

"I'm…I'm…glad you feel the same way," I
stammered. "The second thing I wanted to tell you…in the Razadi
culture, there's a word we use.
Ipsaji
. It means…"

"Soul mate," Justin finished.

"You know?" I asked.

"The last time you transferred memories to
me, I kept hearing the word over and over. And…I don't know…I just
knew. But it's deeper…it's like a partner. For eternity."

I nodded.

"Do you believe in eternity, Justin?"

"Yes."

"What do you think about…about what
ipsaji
means?"

"There's nothing to think about. It's just a
fact. You are my
ipsaji
. And I am yours."

I lost all composure and began to weep.
Justin held me close to him.

"What's the third thing?" he whispered.

"This is the fight of your life. Draw your
strength from God. Strange things may happen to you, but know that
they are all from God. From Olódùmarè. There is nothing evil about
what happens here tonight. All of this is God's will."

"I love you," he said again.

"I love you, too. You're one of us. Now stand
outside for a second. I gotta change."

Justin let himself out of the van and stood
by the door while I shed my shoes, socks, and jeans. In another
bag, I had three items: my long, red and white ritual robes; my
black cloak; and a rope.

When I emerged from the van, I felt the cool
grass beneath my feet.

"Justin, I'm going to put this rope around
your neck. Follow me and stay silent until you're spoken to."

He nodded.

The McMillan Sand Filtration Site was
scheduled to be renovated and made into a mixture of condos and
retail space. For now, however, the space looked as it had for the
past fifty or more years: wide open parkland with squat towers that
had been overgrown with ivy and other plant life.

We left the area near the short towers where
the van was parked and I guided Justin via his cable-tow to the
circle of cloaked Razadi in the middle of the field. A little more
than a dozen of my brethren awaited us.

Justin was nervous, but his posture did not
betray him. As I glanced back, he walked tall, his chest poked out
ever so slightly. He knew this was his time to shine.

As I approached the circle, two of my cloaked
brothers faced me and blocked my path.

"Who goes there?" a third member of the
circle shouted.

"A brother of the great and majestic golden
valley of Africa, where the legendary Razadi once thrived."

"And who is it that you bring with you?"

"A neophyte in the blood, who seeks to prove
himself worthy and ready for the responsibility of our tribe."

"Does our blood course through his
veins?"

"It does."

"What is your pleasure, brethren?"

"Proceed with our ancient rites," said
everyone in the circle.

I walked Justin to the center of the
circle.

"My brothers," I began, shouting, as was our
tradition. "My name is Aragbaye, son of Abeo! In the centuries
since our displacement from our homeland, we have maintained our
traditions. We have survived the middle passage! We have persevered
through slavery! We have worked through Jim Crow! And now we are
here, living among humanity in peace. It is time for us to once
again grow and thrive, and be the leaders of all living things on
this planet.

"Gone are the days where we pined for the
better halves that we left behind in our village. A new day has
dawned upon our kind. The day when a human has become one of
us.

"Behold, I introduce to you Justin Kena!"

I removed Justin's pure white hood and he
stood tall in front of the Razadi with his rope intact around his
neck.

"Justin Kena, son of Theresa, is The Key! I
present him to you with my full endorsement!"

Justin flexed his muscles as the Razadi
stared in silence.

"Why?" one of my brethren asked. "He's just a
Son of Adam."

"Yes, he was born a man," I replied. "But he
was a man who willingly walked into a den of nightwalkers…for us!
He put himself in harm's way just to earn our trust. And because of
that, he put his life on the line, almost died, not even a hundred
yards from where we stand, when a nightwalker tore a hole in his
neck in retaliation! Yes, brothers, he has the courage, the
intelligence, and the fortitude of a Razadi."

"Is he strong?" another asked.

"As strong as any one of us."

"Tell the truth," another began. "Is he your
ipsaji
?"

"Without question he is my
ipsaji
."

"Oh. Well, excuse me." Several of my brothers
chuckled. A grin crept across my face as I spoke.

"As I said, brothers, I vouch for him with
every fiber of my being. I implore you to accept him as one of
us."

One of my brothers slowly approached Justin
and I. Underneath his cloak was an old, dusty tuxedo with a dead,
red rose in the lapel. He took his black hood down and replaced it
with an old top hat with a tattered silver band.

"Uncle John…Babarinde," I said, nodding in
his direction. "This is him. This is Justin."

Justin and Babarinde looked at each other. My
uncle cupped his face and looked deep into his eyes.

"He's The Key, Uncle."

Babarinde smiled and lightly slapped Justin
on the cheek.

"I see," he replied. "Razadi men! Before you
is Justin Kena, son of Theresa! He is vouched for by Aragbaye, son
of Abeo. Do any among you challenge his worthiness?"

"I challenge him," Victor said, emerging from
the shadows.

"I, Eşusanya, son of Nkoyo, challenge Justin
in the traditional ways of our people. Though we have survived and
thrived hundreds of years removed from our homeland, Justin must
still be crowned and named. And he ain't getting either without
coming through me."

Victor shed his cloak and revealed a crisp
red and black camouflage uniform.

"Yo!" Justin hissed at me. "How the fuck does
he get a full uniform and I gotta fight in my drawers? That's some
bullshit!"

"Stay in your zone," I whispered.

"I'm barefoot, my nigga!"

"Get your head in the game. You have
everything you need to win."

Justin exhaled and flicked out his fingers a
few times.

"Justin, son of Theresa, do you accept this
challenge?"

"I do," he said.

"Aragbaye, join the circle. Justin, Eşusanya.
The rules are simple: stay alive."

I hurried to the circle in between two of my
brothers who I knew would be rooting for Justin to win. They nodded
at me as I stood between them.

"Assume your stance, gentlemen," Babarinde
said.

Justin and Victor squared up. Two drummers
began a slow drumroll that built up in volume and in speed.

"Ready? Go!" Babarinde shouted.

Justin and Victor bared their fangs and
charged at each other with all their might. The drummers beat a
mid-tempo cadence that set the tone of the fight. Victor leapt into
the air with a spinning kick, and Justin immediately dodged it by
dipping to the right and kicking out with his left leg, grazing
Victor's body and throwing him off balance.

Victor stumbled, but didn't fall. Justin came
after him with his fists raised, attempting to pummel Victor, but
he missed every shot. Victor's reflexes were too quick for him, at
first.

"Is that all you-"

Victor's taunt was met with a right hook to
his temple. Justin's face went from anger, to disbelief that he had
actually landed the punch, to fear that the fight would
escalate.

In disbelief, Victor felt the lump form on
his temple, which almost immediately subsided. He bared his
fangs.

"You fucked up now!"

Victor launched himself upward into the sky
at least twenty feet and then soared back down, aiming himself
toward Justin, who performed a series of back flips to evade
him.

Victor landed on the ground with a crash,
shaking the earth and unsteadying Justin. As the drumming
continued, their fighting intensified, with Victor on the
offensive, striking out and landing most of his punches, with
Justin deflecting only a few.

Each punch was horrendous, with the sound of
flesh hitting flesh only intensifying. Justin was taking his licks
well, but not landing many of his own. The worry crept over his
face.

"Remember the formula," I called out. Justin
nodded while defending himself.

He performed a roundhouse kick to Victor's
torso and used the momentum to flip in midair and kick his head
with the other foot. Landing back on both feet, he immediately
charged again with a left hook and then a block. He changed weight,
landed a right hook, and blocked again.

Victor quickly adapted to this strategy and
began blocking every punch. Justin adapted as well, blocking
Victor's punches and kicks and anticipating his next moves, upping
the intensity and power each time.

"Go back home, Son of Adam," Victor taunted.
"You can never be one of us!"

Victor gave Justin an uppercut that took him
off his feet and sent him careening toward us. We broke his fall
and let him slide to the ground to rest. His eye was swollen shut
and his mouth was bleeding.

"Get up, Justin," I said. "Get up. You can do
this."

We wiped the blood from his face and propped
him back up.

"You got this."

"Dig deep."

"Pray."

"You're almost there. Pray. Fight. Pray some
more!"

Justin staggered then stood up straight
again, both fists in front of him. He ran toward Victor, leaned and
faked a fall to the left, landing on his left hand and making a
perfect right angle with his body, kicking Victor in the face.
Victor fell backwards, but leapt back up instantly, head-butting
Justin.

Justin, for the second time, staggered
backward toward us.

"Catch him!" I shouted.

Two of my brothers caught him on each side.
Justin began to chant:

"
Ma fo na yi Olódùmarè. Mi o beru enikan
sugbon Olódùmarè."

"You've been teaching him Yoruba?" Salako
asked me.

"No," I said, bewildered. "Just a few words
here and there."

Justin looked into my eyes and smiled. The
swelling in his face had nearly disappeared. He winked and blew me
a kiss.

"I think…" Salako began, and then stopped.
Justin began to convulse.

"He's been crowned!" Makinde exclaimed.

We held hands and formed a small circle
around Justin as he jerked back and forth.

"Don't fight it, Justin!" Salako yelled.

"Let it happen!" Makinde said.

Justin's convulsing stopped. He stood as
still as a post. "Are you okay?" I whispered.

Justin opened his eyes. They glowed yellow
and bright like the sun.

"Tell the drummer I need something up-tempo."
He put his hands on his hips and posed in a feminine posture.

"Oshun!" the three of us exclaimed. We fell
to our knees. Our drummers immediately began drumming furiously and
the rest of the brothers dropped to their knees except for
Victor.

Justin stepped outside of our circle of
protection. He touched then lightly scratched my scalp as he walked
past me. I looked up to see Justin confidently strutting toward
Victor.

"Thought you had him beaten, didn't you?"
Justin asked in a soft and high, but stern voice. "Thought he'd
never get crowned? Hmm?"

"I…I…" Victor stuttered.

"I, I, I," Justin mocked. Now let's get this
over with. I said
faster
, drummer!"

Justin leaped into the air straight up, at
least twenty feet. Victor was awestruck and forgot to move as
Justin came back down. We practically heard the crack as Justin's
elbow hit Victor's skull. He went down.

Justin put his hand on his hip and made an
imaginary mirror with the other.

"Damn, I think I broke a sweat," he said.

Victor scrambled to get up. Justin kicked him
hard to the chest with each foot.

"This… is what… you get… for making… me…
come… down… here!"

Victor began spitting blood.

"Stand up!" Justin said. "Fight back like a
man!"

Justin squatted down and grabbed Victor by
the collar.

"Send your ruler here so this can be a fair
fight!" Justin shook Victor violently and slapped him
repeatedly.

Victor bared his fangs and wailed. The pitch
of his sounds got lower and lower until it was a constant growl.
His eyes, with each blink, began to glow a deep red, like that of a
hot coal.

"Now we're talking!" Justin said. "Good to
see you again, Papa Legba!"

"Let go of my prince, Oshun," Victor
growled.

"Tell your prince to leave the king be!"
Justin shrieked. He threw Victor clear across the field. The Razadi
stepped aside as Justin ran in a blur toward the short towers.

Victor stood up and ran directly toward
Justin. Their red and yellow blurs collided in fireworks as their
arms and legs furiously struggled in mid-air. The sound of the
pounding was unreal—indistinguishable from the rapid beats of the
drums.

We ran toward them. Justin's punches were so
quick that he looked like an octopus punishing Victor.

Not to be outdone, Victor's red-eyed fury
built up and exploded in a collision of legs upon legs.

This fight was epic. We stood before them
gape-mouthed and astonished. Even back in Africa, the crownings
weren't so furious.

Victor grabbed a handful of Justin's hair and
yanked it down hard, sending him to the ground.

"Oh, is that how you treat a woman?" Justin
laughed. He kicked Victor hard in the chest, sending him careening
into one of the sand bins. Bricks collapsed with a sound akin to
pins falling in a bowling alley.