07 ADAM

BINTA

One of the palace guards, referred to as Dogara, came into our compound. The Sarki had sent for me. I was scared because I had declined his invitation twice when he sent the maids. He must be angry with me. That would be the only reason he will send a guard this time. I was scared. I hadn't had my bath yet, so I requested the guard give me time to freshen up and follow him back. He agreed to wait.

The walk to the palace was silent. Guards were not known for humour. Their duty was to protect the palace and its inhabitants and run errands when necessary. They also went into battle when there was a shortage in the number of the army, but their primary duty and responsibility was to protect the throne and everyone in the palace only.

When we arrived at the palace, I was ushered into the Sarki's private guest parlour. I had never been to this part of the palace before. I had never exceeded the throne room.

Although our village was backward and uncivilised, the palace was beautiful. Our king was rich, and all his children were either in a foreign land or in Lafiya's capital Duniya in Daju State. They were all educated and came around once in a while to spend time with their father. The Sarki owned several gold mines and was in the gold trade business with the Arabs. I used to wonder why with all this affluence, the king had never done anything to improve the condition of the village. With time I realised the Island was the way it was because it was what the deities they worshipped wanted. Development was hard and almost impossible. I learned the deities would attack anyone who tried to change the current situation of the village. They had recently made some sacrifices to appease the deities to give them the go-ahead to build a school and clinic in the town; although it took a while before the deities responded, they eventually agreed and blessed the request. Now I knew why they wasted time responding; they were busy drinking our people's blood and eating their flesh. Our village was nothing but a big buffet party for these so-called deities, and I needed to get away from here.

The parlour was beautiful; most of its furniture was plated in gold and decorated with precious stones. Everything sparkled and was neat. The new Sarki had to build the palace using what they used in the big city called burnt bricks and stones. He had demolished the clay huts and replaced them with great architectural structures. I also learned he had to offer a lot of sacrifices to achieve this. I secretly wished I were his daughter; I could have been anywhere but here by now. I secretly envied his children though I had never met them before. He had two sons and three daughters. His daughters were rumoured to be so beautiful and adequately cared for that kings, princes, chiefs and politicians from all places fought battles to win their hands in marriage. All his daughters were married by now, and none of them lived in Rayuwa. I learned his sons were still single, although his first son was rumoured to marry soon. I wondered who it was, but all that was none of my concern.

I was asked to sit on one of the soft hand-decorated cushions placed on the carpet. A commoner like me was never allowed to sit on any chair in the palace. One could only get that kind of treatment if you were of noble blood, and I wasn't. It was an honour to be here; even though I sat close to the ground, I felt elated.

The Sarki and a young man that looked like he was in his late twenties walked in. I squatted immediately and bowed my face, never looking the Sarki in the eye. He laughed and asked me to sit and relax.

"I am sorry about your father." The Sarki said, sitting down. The young man sat beside him. He was tall and handsome. His skin tone, though not too light, was not too dark either; it was in between, and it looked perfect. He was adequately built, and I could see it from the sleeves of his shirt. He did not look macho, but he looked healthy and in control. He had brown eyes; they were soft and, at the same time, intimidating. He was a girl's dream in reality. This must be the prince, I thought to myself, but I dared not ask.

"That's the lady that has been helping me read and write letters. She is very bright, indeed." Said the Sarki to the young man. "Binta meet my son, Adam."

I quickly squatted and bowed my head to pay my respects and greet the prince.

"No, no, come on. Sit down. You are like a daughter to me." The Sarki said. I felt his kindness, and I had tears in my eyes. Before I knew it, I had started crying. The king walked up to me and bent down to try to console me.

"It's alright, my daughter. I know what your father meant to you, and I am sorry for your loss." I wasn't crying tears of sorrow; they were tears of joy to hear the Sarki call me his daughter in the presence of his son. I was overwhelmed with joy. I did not say anything, though. I wiped my eyes and ensured my head was not above the Sarki's but below.

A guard came in, whispered something to the Sarki, and left.

"Binta, you must excuse me. I have a matter to attend to in the throne room. Adam, please keep her company till I return." He said and left.

I was shy and embarrassed to be left alone with the prince. I did not know what to say or do. I was clueless and nervous. I kept picking my fingers and biting my nails while I looked around, avoiding his face.

"I can see you are nervous." He said. His voice was like heaven. It sounded like music. It was masculine, deep and commanding. A woman would faint at the sound of his voice, and he had the looks to match.

I was tongue-tied. I wanted to talk, yet I couldn't utter a word. I had never been alone with a young man before. I wasn't prepared for this. Although I could read, write, and speak the white man's language, I was not educated. How would I talk to the prince without sounding stupid and ignorant? Somehow his opinion of me mattered to me so much, and I did not know why.

"I do not like coming to this village because there is hardly anyone I can relate to. Something tells me I will enjoy my stay this time around if you promise to be my friend." I raised my head immediately and looked at him in shock. When I realised what I had done, I had looked into the eyes of the prince without his permission; I squatted immediately and begged for forgiveness.

"What are you sorry for? I want us to be friends. How can we be friends if you can't look me in the eyes?" he asked, then paused, waiting for me to reply, but I remained silent.

"Ok, I give you permission from now on to look me in the eyes, talk to me and be free around me," he said. "How about that? Are you ok now? I want you to raise your head. Better still," he said, standing up. "Let us take a walk together."