Grandma Amo paid a visit to Kosi after the election results were announced. Together, they took a leisurely stroll, distancing themselves from the governor’s villa’s imposing gateway.
Upon reaching the end of the boulevard, Grandma Amo pointed her crooked finger toward the distant horizon and began to recount the history of the land. “See those fields over there?” she asked. “They once belonged to a magnificent kingdom known as Muzhia.”
Grandma continued, her voice carrying the weight of a hidden history. “The last king of Muzhia ruled from the edge of Wuri to the vast expanse of the Khuri desert. She described his grandeur, his conquests, and the monuments that bore witness to his reign.
“But,” Grandma Amo whispered, “the stories of his downfall were carefully erased from the annals of history.” She leaned in closer to Kosi, her eyes filled with ancient knowledge. “I will tell you, child, I will tell you. The king was overthrown by peasants.”
Kosi, having excelled in Professor Ake’s history courses, was taken aback. “But Professor Ake said he died on the throne.”
Grandma chuckled softly, her wrinkles deepening with amusement. “Your professor knows nothing of these fields, of the bull-shaped hills, or of the three sacred acacia trees that birthed our ancestors. He knows nothing about the king of Muzhia.”
“He knows nothing,” she continued, “about the king’s peculiar cabinet, composed of his wives, nephews, and a group of friends who gifted him mirrors and cigarettes. She sighed, her gaze distant. “He knows nothing about the damage that cabinet caused, a legacy we still bear today—the mistrust of Muzhians.”
Grandma’s voice grew somber as she recounted the vulnerability of the kingdom to attacks from neighboring tribes, a reflection of the cabinet’s poor advice. “He knows nothing about the revolt and the bloodshed, which were led by laborers plowing the king’s fields and ultimately led to his assassination.”
With a sense of pride, Grandma turned her attention to Kosi, who had just been announced as the governor—the first Muzhian in fifty years and the first woman in the province’s history to hold the position. She tenderly squeezed Kosi’s hand and imparted her final words. “I want you to always remember the last king of Muzhia.”