by Antonio Napoli
Under the copper sky of ancient Africa, the great leader Zuberi had forged an immense empire. The drums of war marked his conquests, and the sun reflected off the spears of his army. But at the borders of his realm, new tribes rose like a wave ready to crash against his defenses. Zuberi prepared to repel them.
The night before battle, sleep overtook him and led him into a dream. He found himself riding near a river, whose waters twisted like an ancient spirit. On the high roots of a baobab tree, perfectly balanced, stood a boy with gleaming skin and eyes like two hidden moons. Zuberi called out to him. The boy did not respond. Irritated, the leader drew his blade forged in the sacred fire and, with a swift strike, severed the branch upon which the boy was perched. The wood fell into the water, but instead of sinking, it floated. The boy, light as an ostrich feather, rested upon it and let the current carry him.
Surprised, Zuberi urged his horse into the river and waded to the opposite bank, where a mist as thick as the breath of ancestors loomed ominously. A voice reached his ears: “We will meet again in your camp.”
Then silence enveloped everything, until his trusted advisor and physician, Senwe, approached and said, “You are only dreaming.” Senwe interpreted the king’s dream with unfortunate lightness, ordering the guards to kill on sight any boy who approached the camp. But that night, as Zuberi returned to his tent, he pulled aside the heavy antelope skin that served as the entrance and froze. There, seated among his war maps, was the boy.
“Do not blame your sentinels,” the boy said with a smile. “I arrived clinging to your horse’s belly. One day, I will ride above your horse, and you will be beneath me.”
It was in that moment that Zuberi truly awoke, sweating, his heart pounding in his chest. He called for Senwe and told him his dream. Senwe interpreted it as a foretelling of victory.
Dawn brought battle and a desperate but partial victory: the war was not yet over. The following night, while he was carving his name into an ivory tusk, a shadow attacked him. Zuberi fought and finally overcame the adversary: it was a woman. A spy immediately recognized her. It was Kesi, the wife of the enemy king. Zuberi was already thinking of using her as a bargaining chip, but she, sensing the danger, snatched a dagger from the guard and tried to stab herself. Senwe, with his extraordinary medical skills, stopped her.
“Do you not know that you are recently pregnant?” he said, voicing the insight of his keen eye.
The woman paled: she suspected it, based on a recurring dream, but was not yet sure. But Zuberi paled even more: the dream returned, enveloping him like a spell. With a gaze full of foreboding, and on Senwe’s advice, the king ordered that the woman be set free.
The war raged with greater ferocity. When Zuberi faced the enemy king, he struck him down with a mortal blow. But in that instant, amidst the melee, a black horse charged toward him. The leader stopped, his blood freezing in his veins: on the saddle was the boy from the dream, or so it seemed to Zuberi’s exhilarated eyes. The steed pressed forward, galloping like an inevitable omen; then it trampled him.
Zuberi was carried back to camp, his breath broken by agony. A poisoned arrow had pierced his side. Not just any arrow, but one fired by a woman: Kesi, the wife of the king slain in battle. The poison spread rapidly through Zuberi’s body, and he closed his eyes forever, muttering the words: “the dream… the dream.”
His death changed the course of the war. The two peoples, weakened by their mutual losses, realized that no conquest could fill the void left by the fallen. And so, they forged peace.
Senwe, the physician who had tended to the wounds of many, lived long enough to witness the dawn of a new kingdom, the merging of the two peoples. After countless political twists, a young boy ascended to the ebony throne. He was young, yes, but tempered by the indomitable spirit of his mother and with an extraordinary ability to give enlightening meaning to his dreams. He reigned for many years, with the burning strength of youth and the courage of one who bears the weight of great responsibility.
He was the son of Kesi, the boy whom Zuberi had dreamed of. Or so we like to believe, assuming that the fabric of dreams can be revealed by the dawning light of the future.