“Duties and Dalliances”
“Peace Sister,” Zuberi said to a young lady walking in his direction as he stood on a busy sidewalk. She smiled at the large man swooned by his pronounced muscles, thick knotty and powerful stance. “How are you this beautiful day?”
The woman stopped in her pace. She was not the sort to call a “Sister”; just another Brooklyn girl who if pressed on her sense of self-worth would not highly rate herself. She was beautiful–Zuberi’s type–yet she also found ‘beautiful’ too strong a word to describe her. She had full lips and full hips. Zuberi’s interest in her while political also veered on the personal. “Fine,” she said.
Zuberi smiled, “Have you heard of the Maa Nation?” He referred to the self-reliant Pan-African gated community which was a few blocks away. She affirmed and offered that she was presently on her way. “I’ll walk you then,” Zuberi insisted.
“I’d like that,” she told him and wrapped her arms around his massive biceps. Zuberi looked to the two men across the street and nodded. They understood his meaning. As Maa Nationals they were expected to at least inform the masses about the Maa Nation; yet seeing as Zuberi was recently divorced, the men understood that Zuberi may mix his duties with his dalliances. In the Maa Nation, he was a Hunter, an unmarried Maa National; they were Protectors, married male Nationals.
“My name is Sba,” Zuberi said.
“Dallas,” Dallas remarked. She leaned her head into Zuberi’s arm as they walked. His melanated, muscled arms signified safety. Although not formally a Protector, women know when a man can fulfill his role as the primary Protector and secondary Healer; and despite how familiar they may be with a man, they can sense Manhood and it’s intoxicating.
“What brings you to the Maa Nation?”
“The Bazaar,” she enlightens. Zuberi figured as much. The Bazaar in the Maa Nation is the best in Brooklyn. People from all over pay a small fee to enter the Maa Nation’s Bazaar but the selection is unlimited. “I’m getting a new dress.”
Zuberi took his arm out of hers and looked her over. She wore a fitted black and yellow dress that admirably hugged her curves. He studied her as she sashayed before him. “You look fine in this one,” he said, replacing his hand to the small of her back. She returned his arm under hers.
“That’s the point,” she remarked, “there are dressmakers there, who dare to design dresses with my body-type and my melanin in mind. I’m breathing in these, and I’ve received many compliments.” Zuberi nodded approvingly. The other Brooklyn girls he saw today, wore pants, skirts and dresses designed for another body-type and a completely different complexion; but Dallas’ yellow and black dress complemented her Black skin and her curves were accentuated instead of suffocated. “I need more.”
As the pair walked the perimeter of the Maa Nation which was a large wall with a handful of military-styled outposts manned with cannons and guards, a disheveled and rotund beggar sat on the floor with his hand out and his legs stretched across the sidewalk. “Spare some change?”
Dallas reached for her pocketbook, but Zuberi lifted his hand to signify a stop. He then walked to the beggar and said, “Get up! I told you to not sit by this wall. Go in or get out.” The disheveled man stood quickly, he recognized Zuberi as a man with an ability to toss him and a history of so doing. The beggar scurried away with apologetic nods. Zuberi returned by Dallas and said, “He’ll be back.”
His aggression confused her. “Did you know him?” she asked, placing her arm back under his and matching his stride to the main gate.
“He may not look it,” Zuberi remarked, “but he’s a regular con here. He begs so he can go to the city and eat high-end tripe and attend seedy strip clubs. We have offered him jobs, but he’d rather manipulate the sympathy of his Brothers and Sisters than earn an honest living that benefits his people.” Zuberi segued into a political discourse. “‘Our Race can not hope to have an economy if its people do not produce anything.’ I’m all for men eating, hence why I told him to go in and find employment, but productivity escapes most of our Race. For that most of our people are enslaved.”
“Most?” Dallas asked.
“‘Working’ for this white man isn’t much different from begging of the Black man. Both are ‘begging,’ truly, ‘work’ only appears more dignified.”
Dallas shrugged. She thought of how nice it would be if she sold dresses, but she couldn’t imagine affording Brooklyn through a trade. “How else would we live?”
“Self-employment or more accurately, Race-employment. Take me for an example, I’m a Hunter in the Maa Nation. I work in SbaWoods, an us-owned bed manufacturer and I sometimes man those turrets, patrol the streets or talk to pretty women like you. For working for us, I am given a home to live, daycare for my son, food to eat and a reason to hold my head up. I am not just surviving, not just living, but thriving.”
The two finally reach the gate and Zuberi tells the guard to waive Dallas’ fee. “You must be well-known,” she suggested. Zuberi shrugged.
He lead her to the Bazaar then said, “I’m going to the daycare to get my son. I’d like to show you around the Maa Nation sometime. What’s your number?”
Dallas told him her number but followed with, “I can shop later. Maybe you can show me around now?”
“Be careful,” Zuberi warned, “I will pay more attention to my son than I will to you.”
She batted her eyelashes. “Maybe I will do the same.”
Zuberi raised her hand to his mouth and kissed it. “Let’s make haste.”
Only ten of the first 25 chapters will be freely available. A chapter will be published each week. But you don’t need to wait. For only $10, you can get the EBook sent to your email address. Send your email address and Purchase here.