The Asters of Ogaza

To be or not to be?

A vast nothingness covered the Obsidian. Zina stood on her toes holding the wall firmly. She peered further, wondering how many bones she would gather if she dug up the soil around the cave. She looked up at Pa Anfari as he held little Zoka on his shoulders, narrating the tale of the Ogaza separation; how the South started the bloody war, how they lost their sense of camaraderie and allowed the bond of family they shared break so easily over arguments for royal placements, wives and landed properties. Ogaza, which used to be a large, peaceful community brimming with love and success from the teamwork of the people, was now torn into two unsettling halves; the North and the South. The separation took lives, properties, and some folks whose bodies were never recovered have been believed to still be alive in the opposite side, living as slaves. The forbidden cave; Obsidian, sitting dark, hollow and high was a constant reminder of the separation. Now standing at the top of the old City theatre, Zina wondered if the two sides would ever become one again, if she would really be executed if she made any attempts to cross the forbidden cave, if her parents were dead, or slaves in the South.

Silk, lace, linen and other clothing materials filled the old wooden table. Pa Anfari measured, marked with chalk, cut and stitched together. The room was a burst of coloured clothes, perfectly sewn, neatly hung waiting to be delivered. Music snuck into the room from the instruments of the band across the street and Pa Anfari danced slowly along to the rhythm while he worked.

“Dancing again?” Pa Anfari smiled at the familiarity of the voice as he turned. Zina emptied the contents of her knapsack; an artsy journal, two velvet materials and a bottle she handed over to Pa Anfari. She scurried to the end of the room and hung the velvet clothes alongside some others on a small metal rail. Taking the last sip of the content in the bottle, Pa Anfari placed the bottle on the table and pulled Zina in for a hug. Beads of sweat decorated her head.

“You work too hard, Zi.” Pa Anfari held her at arm’s length. “Have you had something to eat?”

She shrugged and took a seat.

“I had breakfast before leaving the house, Pa. I won’t be eating anytime soon.” Pa Anfari laughed and his mind raced to the past. Zina used to be a voracious eater. He would learn new recipes from the women who had shops close to his just so he could make new meals for Zina. And she would absolutely love them. His eyes began to water as memories of his daughter before the war came flooding through. She had a hard time birthing Zina who weighed a whooping 12 pounds. The midwives and doctors had worried that she was too big for a new-born and her health may be threatened, but Zina grew up healthy, happy and eating even more. His heart warmed as he watched her make sketches in her journal.

“Pa, this dress would be very beautiful to wear to a social event, don’t you think?”. Pa Anfari nodded and Zina’s eyes beamed. She was proud Pa liked her sketch.

“In fact,” Pa Anfari started, enunciating his words slowly like he always did

“I think you should wear this to the Night of The Asters dinner”. The beam in Zina’s eyes faded.

“I’m not going to be an Aster, Pa. I am not interested”

Pa Anfari studied Zina, who had now put away her journal and picked up pieces of clothes to sew together.

“Zi” He sighed “I am so proud of you, you are aware of that, hmm?” She nodded not taking her eyes off her hands.

“Being an Aster would be honourable for you, it would be something nice, something you deserve. I want to see you become greater than you can imagine”. Zina paused. She couldn’t even be an Aster if she wasn’t chosen to be one. Every year, the Royals; the royal family and every other official serving in the Palace, selected 10 males and 10 females aged 18-22 who have been counted worthy of wisdom, discipline, hard work, kindness and talent. Upon their selection, they are taken to live in the royal Palace where they are trained all round to become loyal servant leaders to their community. The official list would be released in three days, the thought made Zina’s throat knot tightly. She had a gut feeling she would be picked; she was quite popular around the neighbourhood as the tailor’s first granddaughter, the orphan who lost both parents to the war, the one who ran daily errands for her grandfather, the girl who had no hair. Many times, Pa’s customers would leave her gift items and cowries saying that Pa was blessed to have a granddaughter who was efficient. They would smile warmly at her, encouraging her to keep up the good work and someday, she would be an Aster. The thought of being one made her curious and excited when she was younger, but at 18 years, Zina wanted nothing more than to live with Pa and Zoka forever, to take care of Pa as he aged, and to watch Zoka smile brighter and become taller with every sun rise. On the flip side, some people would raise their noses at her for running past without greeting them, they would say she was arrogant, because she rarely spoke to anyone unless she had a reason to. They went on about how unruly she was, “No responsible woman should walk around with a bald head!”. In this moment, she wished more than anything that their bad comments would creep into the ears of the Royals and they would not have her drafted.

Pa Anfari reached for her, “Come, my child”. Holding Pa’s right hand, Zina sat beside him. He cleared his throat.

“You know, your mother, she wanted to be an Aster in her youth. She wanted it so desperately, but she was never drafted. When her cousin Talia was chosen, your mother cried” He chuckled and his eyes held the precious memories only he had.

“She cried so much that her mother and I joined her. We couldn’t console her. When she eventually stopped crying, she took all of the clothes she bought ahead of the drafting, all the notes she kept while studying about Ogaza, and she handed it to Talia. After doing that, she gave her two options”. Pa counted with his index and middle fingers

“One, go there and make us proud. Two, become the queen of Ogaza”. Zina smiled, there was no way Talia could become the queen, so her only option was to make them proud. Mama’s face flooded her thoughts and the emptiness in her heart deepened. Pa continued

“From that day, she decided that when she had children, she would tell them all about the Asters, and hope they share her dream to be one”. The shop fell silent and Zina’s heart skipped many beats. Hazy memories of her mother came back. The last time she saw her, she had big, dark brown eyes that matched her truffle skin, her thick hair was always loose and free, and although she had small hands, she always threw her up and never failed to catch her. She was 4 years at the time, she remembered falling asleep in her mother’s arms one day and waking up not seeing her ever again. Zoka always wailed for breastmilk, but there was none for her to suckle. Pa Anfari, Ma Anfari and Dada always talked in low voices then, as though they didn’t want her to hear. Shortly after then, Dada was gone too. Ma Anfari did not stop crying, and whenever Zina asked why, Pa would give her a weak smile and send her away with cookies and milk. He never told her how Dada and Mama disappeared until she was 7 years old and had asked after them more than a million times. Ma Anfari passed a week after Zoka’s 9th birthday. The gleam in Pa’s eyes passed with Ma, he spent most days in her tailoring shop staring at nothing. Pa who once stood lofty and confident began to shrink with as the days rolled by.

She couldn’t imagine how hard things must have been for Pa. Losing his daughter, son-in-law, and later on, the person he loved most. She felt Pa’s palm wipe tears off her face and when she looked at him, he was crying too. She thought of the best way to thank him. For raising her and Zoka all by himself after Ma Anfari passed, for being strong and breaking down every now and then, for being their only family. She wanted to give Mama; wherever she was, what she always dreamt of. Feigning a smile, she turned 90 degrees to face Pa, clasping his palms in hers.

“Don’t cry Pa. I’d go to the palace. I’d be an Aster”. Pa Anfari shook his head.

“What kind of grandfather would I be then? If I made you become who you do not want to be because I told you what your mother used to say?” He lowered his voice in sadness, “She is not even here”

“I’m not doing it for you or for her. I’m doing it for me. This is what I want. Me”. Pa nodded in affirmation, she said what he wanted to hear. Although deep down they knew, she was doing it for Zoka and Ma Anfari, for Mama and Dada, for him, to see his eyes as bright as they were before the war, to make him the proudest he has ever been.

“You are going to be great, Zina. I feel it so strongly”. Zina smiled

“Zina” Pa continued “Never fake a smile again, smile with your eyes like you always do”. Zina laughed, Pa saw right through her and she knew.

“A stitch in time” A voice called from the entrance as the doorbell rang

“Saves nine” Pa returned. Ma Anfari picked the name for her business, she thought it was fancy, and went well with the job line, tailoring. Zoka strolled in, her hands stained a deep purple. Pa watched as she stood, lean and tall, her hair thick, loose and free, just like her mother.

“Your hands are coloured, again.” Zina walked back to the clothes she had been piecing together. Zoka ran over and flung her arms around her sister’s shoulders

“Today was the most fun day ever!” She squealed, her voice high pitched and piercing as always. Pa’s heart twirled with adoration. Zoka had truffle skin and full hair like her mother. She threw her head back when she laughed, and her smile revealed her pink gums. Zina’s skin was like her father’s, cool earth. She was a pictorial representation of him, except that she didn’t have the giant height they all had, so Zoka shot past her whenever they stood together even though she was just 14. She was a little chubbier than Zoka, cheeks soft and fluffy, and she was so adventurous, always wanting to go some place to do something, anything.

“What did you do, cook purple food?” Zina said, the sarcasm evident in her voice

“Exactly! We made purple rice, purple salad, purple dessert and even purple drinks!”. Pa giggled; knowing Zoka, he decided that she would cook purple food for the rest of the week now that she had tried it out. She skipped across the room towards Pa and hugged him.

“My Zo, I see you had a beautiful day, I am glad”. Zoka nodded, still hugging her grandfather.

“I’m glad too” She pulled away “Can I please make purple food at home?” Zina scoffed, typical Zoka.

“Of course, as long as you get the stain off my dishes”. Zoka jumped in for another hug.

“Thank you so much Pa. Did you have a fun day too?” She searched around for something to munch and she found a half-eaten bread loaf she stuffed in her mouth. Pa nodded

“I did. Zina agreed to become an Aster”. Zo’s mouth hung open and the half-chewed bread in her mouth made Pa laugh.

“Ah! What did you tell her? What changed? How…what…who, I need answers”. Zoka screamed.

“She thought things over, and she changed her mind”. Zoka stared surprisingly at Zina

“My sister? About to be an Aster? Awesome!” Zoka ran to give Zina a hug she dodged.

“Imagine us bragging to the neighbours, we have an Aster in our family” Pa stood, his shoulders suddenly attaining twice its stance. The girls rolled with laughter.

“I know Pa, we would be special people forever. Nobody would treat me badly because I have a sister in the royal palace” Zoka agreed. As Zina watched them act silly talking about her becoming an Aster, the curiosity and excitement of her younger self re-emerged, and she purposed within her to keep their faces bright, to make them remain the happiest they could ever imagine. For them, if she ever gets drafted, she would go to the palace and be the most outstanding Aster. And in the deepest part of her heart, she decided she would find out if her parents were really dead, or enslaved somewhere in the stinky South.