Spirit Ran Free
Chapter One / Page One

Prince Jaakeem, the elder son of Dahomean chief, Juwaan Hamata, born of the beautiful Ashanti princess, Assinia, stood on the grassy ledge at edge of the forest. His poise flaunted a majestic attitude as that of an African prince, but it was so known amidst truth of the Allada tribe that Prince Jaakeem was much greater than a prince. Leopard fur tied his long garish hair. His tall chiseled body, his golden earrings, his colorful kente cloth draping his sleek muscled chest clearly epitomized an elite Dahomean warrior. Sheer colossal courage shown before his wise father and the Allada elders had begun to tell the gilded story of Prince Jaakeem's famed legend. Here was Black Africa.

The late fading sun was casting a reddish tinge of elaborate beauty over the wide vestal valley. Its uncaged sheen was simply an artistic masterpiece poised picturesquely below the full imposing sky. The young prince treasured this valley as the sublime essence of his Africa. He loved coming here at the late evening to caress its beauty with his eyes and enjoy its subdued serenity.

Those soft humming voices he heard, disturbed the prince. He folded his arms and moved his stoic eyes down to the valley floor, where a bustling cluster of Allada women wearing colorfully draped wraps were slashing large knives. The women were set on clearing the field and dropping seed into the hoed furrows before the days of rainfall. But seeing his precious valley being abused, angered the prince. Here it is ever my sacred Africa, he thought, it should not be touched with the large knives. The spirit of Africa must ever remain wild and free. Prince Jaakeem's father had clearly explained to him that the rich lower valley must now become farmland for food and market trade. Still, he felt deep emotion about his pure Africa as his eyes shifted on the beautiful Lyakena, who brushed a strand of her long silken hair from her face, and then daintily slashed her hoe against the tall weeds.

Cont. / Page 2

the author


Forest Hairston