Kwante is the land of greatness. The climate, beauty, and passion are fueled by the greatness of the land. Kwante has been in existence since 800 BC, ruled in seclusion by a mighty and feared king, Mamjo.
The kingdom is fertile and expanding. It has been strict in their ways, their culture and heritage. Kwante strongly believes in the complete and absolute dominance of the man. For years they have survived by strong and heavily guarded male rulers, chiefs and warriors. Women are expected to stay in their place of giving birth to more offsprings, especially males. Women can never be a warrior, and they can never speak over any man.
The ruling leader, Mamjo, has carried on these same traditions for the past 3 decades. He is the last of his 6 brothers, who have all passed away during battles over the years. He is only in his late sixties but has carried the weight of responsibility since his teen years.
Making him the youngest ruler to ascend the throne according to the Kwante history.
Mamjo sits on his throne focused on nothing from dusk till dawn. His guards switched between shifts and whispered about what could be wrong with the king. As if he had shrunk down within a day.
An airy evening, his chiefs marched in. they all prostrate to pay their respects. A silent response from Mamjo made them awkwardly raise to their seats.
The eight chiefs look between themselves, what is bothering the king? He has never been like this before. Mamjo, signals to the guard on his left for water.
Within seconds a maid walks elegantly and serves him. He takes a drink from the bowl and returns it. He sits up to address his chiefs
“My chiefs, I fear my end is near. The end is Kwante is coming.” The first real word from the Mamjo in days left the chiefs in a shock. Kwante has fertile lands, an excellent ruler, an army that has proven times without number that it is the best in all the nearest kingdoms.
“My king, Kwante will never come to an end. Why do you speak of such impossibility?” Mamjo’s closest chief, Jo, asks.
“I had a dream. I saw my end, I saw my only son bleed. The people of Kwante burning like dried grass on an open field. I saw my wives cry over my dead body.” The chiefs gasps, Mamjo raises to his feet and begins to pace “Darkness, will soon befall this land and there is no way to save our people.”
Jo walks to his King and friend, he puts a hand on his shoulder, leading him to sit on his throne. “My king, Kwante has lived for hundreds of years. We will survive whatever plague is upon us.”
Mamjo is lost in his thoughts again. The chiefs talk between themselves, Chief Nwoso raises to speak “My king, that was only a dream. Well, I think we should consult the great seer.”
“Our seer has been banished from our land since he tried to manipulate us.” Jo responded
“Yes but what about the seer of the next land. I have heard the tales of their seer. They say he is very powerful and I believe he will be able to tell us if this is the real dream we have to be worried about or not.” Chief Nwoso suggests.
“You are right,” Mamjo said quietly, his mind still not settled “Chief Nwoso please find him.” As for the rest of you, pray for our safety. I’d like to be left alone.”
The Chiefs all march out, the same way the came in. Their hearts and minds heavier now with more worry than when they came in. Impending death for such a great king, tears, fire, blood, were all signs of bad omen in Kwante.
What can be done by the seer to save the kingdom?
The seer arrives after 3 nights, his cloaked steps sent shivers down the spine of the Kwame people. The seer stops at the door of the palace, refusing to move an inch, in a high pitched voice
“This land is soiled. A battle is being prepared and you shall lose.”
Silence befalls the people. Mamjo walks out of his palace, he looks like he has aged further in four days.
“What is the cure?” Mamjo asks the seer “What shall save me and my people?”
The seer prostrates “The great king that shall bring a change to the world and your prince shall nurture it. But he is not the head, he supports the head.” the seer raises, he turns to leave.
“Seer, speak in lay mans terms. What shall i do?”
“Nothing.”
