‘What do queens do?’
Growing up, my mother would scold me for being reckless. ‘Learn to behave like a queen, Zabi.’ So I searched history books as instructed and discovered great women; fierce leaders in peace and war. But none struck me like Onifarada: a beauty with blood tainted the colour of tar; walking on tanzanite, oil and gold. Tales of invasions of her lands captivated me; unbroken, she had simply stood her ground even as her enemies scrambled about her.
Next time Mother asked, the reply came. ‘Queens sit still.’
Smiling, she asked, ‘Which queen taught you that?’
‘Africa.’
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