S.W. Hewett ď §
A novel
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Five Spice Copyright © 2014 Shashu Hewett All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author; except in the case of brief quotation embodied in critical articles and reviews. No characters, references, incidents, dialogues, or similarities of this book may be replicated in any form without written permission of the author. The characters, incidents, places and occurrences in this book are fictional and are based on the authors’ imaginative and creative mind. Places, objects, may have been used to give the novel a sense of reality. Book cover design created by Kenya S. Hewett all rights reserved. Cover photo & concept by Shashu Hewett. Book interior designed by Shashu Hewett all rights reserved.
1. Drama—Fiction 2. Adventure, Romance—Fiction 3.Culinary\Food—Fiction 4. Social Conflict—Fiction 5. Suspense—Fiction 6. Royal Family— Fiction 7. Multicultural relationships—Fiction 8. Sexual Content—Fiction ISBN-13: 978-1493771950 ISBN-10: 1493771957
Introduction
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egeste Negest! The Dawditu chant with pride! They’ve waited for this day all year long and it’s finally here! The beginning of the Sunsefest! The celebration of harvest, culture, honor and tradition! Not to mention the savory dishes from a select group of maven Chefs’ from around the world! “Negeste Negest!” Roar! “Negeste Negest!” The louder they chant, the more passion grows within them! The crowd is wide as the Red Sea. Roar! This rumble wasn’t from the crowd. Strong, positive, vibrations are coming from the west. Jingles are heard but not footsteps. Roar! “Negeste Negest!” The crowd begins to part furthest west. The rumbling is getting closer, but still no sign of anyone walking through; no heads above the crowd, nor any footsteps. What could it be? Eyes flare. Many can’t believe what their eyes are witnessing! “I can’t believe it!” Some whisper amongst themselves. “Don’t think I would believe it if I wasn’t here to see it myself,” They say. Altogether, five massive lions proudly stroll inward. Seemingly, in slow motion. Two lionesses bring up the front and two from the rear. But the fifth, the one in the middle; the grand Lion Rajuu, head of the
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pent-pride is carrying a woman on his back! Not just any woman; it’s the Empress! Her Imperial Majesty Empress Nyala Yemengee of Ethiopia! Sitting comfortably, exuding sophistication, confidence, and dripping in the rarest and finest gems. With five, man eating cats surrounding her, she was nothing if not fearless. “Negeste Negest!” The Dawditu chant! Her hair is rooted; hundreds of strong, long dreadlocks, the color of a winter solstice night. Atop her head sits a three-tiered crown. Oh, that crown! Canary diamonds and rubies gleaming all over! It is a sight for sore eyes! Draped around her forehead hung the Tear of Dhawlice. It is the rarest jewel of the realm. The Dawditu’s enemies have sought to get their hands on this rare gem for centuries, but can never pinpoint its exact location. Her predecessors change its mold with the beginning of a new reign. “Negeste Negest!” Rajuu roars. The pack of lioness echoes after him in unison. Fiki precipitously, yet apprehensive nonetheless, ran up to Rajuu to help the Empress off. Fiki is Empress Nyala’s quirky, tiny, eccentric advisor. Fiki extends his hand to the Queen. She gently placed her palm face down on his without gripping. She steps down elegantly. Then leans in to kiss Rajuu atop his mane. “Good boy Rajuu… good boy!” A few onlookers’ eyes widened. The pentagon of lions gapped their mouths open, bearing large, sharp flesh ripping teeth! Roar! Roar! The rowdy crowd quieted instantaneously. “The pents are so pragmatic, I love it! No one’s in jeopardy of a larynx tear!” “Fiki!” Zolanya ordered. “Ow!” He flutters his fingers together, scampered next to Zolanya; the Empress’ lady in waiting. “Her Majesty is looking rather lovely today, her royal garments lavishly traipsing over her derrière. His Imperial Emperor seems not to be in attendance this evening? How could he leave those soft donuts 2
S.W. Hewett behind?” Zolanya whispered to Fiki. “Her majesty looks lovely every day! And I’m not saying this to avoid hatari! Plus, the Emperor is visiting Belgium. Political affairs.” Fiki precipitously uttered. His face tight; their postures stiff. “It’s a little late to be visiting Belgium this time of year, is it not? It’s getting close to that time … She wouldn’t exile us… would she?” “Quiet! She has the capability to hear flies whisper…” His stature obstinate. The crowd bowed at the Empresses feet. Everyone was in awe. Gracefully striding towards the platform she smiled at her constituents. Her left hand positioned under her heart peeking out of her cape. She wore a dress underneath, which was flamingo colored, stitched and hemmed from the finest fabrics! Shimmering, sheer, flowing as the rapids ride the rivers. Persimmons rays brushed across the sky as the sun sets in the west. Empress Nyala made eye contact with Fiki. He knew to hop to it when she needed him. He was at her side in seconds. “Imperial Empress Nyala, I am at your service.” “Are the Americans here yet?” “Sadly, your greatness, their flight is taking longer than expected. They should be here by eleven, nightfall.” “That is unfortunate…” She sounds disappointed or relieved; it’s hard to tell with her these days, with all that’s been going on. “Tomorrow, we will not waste any time with the introductions due to their tardiness today. Has the culinary team finished the Sunsefest meals?” Fiki’s eyes shifted left to right. Tick, tick like a clock that’s a slave to seconds. “Speak up Fiki,” she snapped! “Ow! We anticipated the Gregor Group being here so the culinary team was a bit late with their prep! But, I assure you they are 3
almost finished your greatness!” Her eyes pinched with displeasure. “Get it started now!” Her voice intensely low. “Yes, my Empress” She reached the cabana and sat down on the throne. The big cats smell one another, observe their surroundings, then lay at her feet. The cabana is dressed with lavish banana and crimson rugs, curtains, and pillows. “Fiki...” “Yes, my Empress.” “Run through the list once more.” “Certainly. Cori Vance, Liam Blake, Penelope Santiago, Suki Chou, Anna Miller, Sarah Miller, KT Uhuru, Savannah Summerlin, Tristan Ross, Jim Scarcella.” Curiously, she asks, “Savannah Summerlin; her medium is?” “Weyni. Savannah Weyni Summerlin.” He stuttered. Her eyes loosened as she turned from her advisor. She regained her composure; not letting on to her thoughts of curiosity. “And Scarcella? How did Italian scum legally weasel its’ way into our borders?” “Your greatness, he is an American.” “You dare to question my knowledge of those border breaching, secret stealing, red-tip, coward pigs! You think I don’t know what he is? Basha!” “No, your greatness! Never” “Why do I find myself asking you question after question? You are to advise me and keep me informed, not play this foolish Q&A all evening!” Her East African accent is thick as molasses. Her eyes set on Zolanya. Fiki runs over to Zolanya. “Empress Nyala requests you—” His voice stern, then steeply dropping into a whisper. “—I told you she would hear you. I can’t save you, nice knowing you.” He guided her to the cabana through the rowdy festivities. 4
S.W. Hewett Zolanya spins around with her palms facing upward and her hands sashaying inward, curtsies on both knees. This is a special bow known to the Dawditu as Shiroshu bow. Zolanya perfected the bow with ease, technique and grace like a swan swimming across the still waters. All Dawditu women learn, from their first steps, the Shiroshu bow. “My Empress…” “Zolanya, return to the palace, prepare my evening attire… the gold gown.” “Yes, my Empress; right away.” She begins to back away. “Zolanya…” “Yes, Empress Nyala.” “The only questions you are allotted, should concern my measurements, cloth and pattern choice. Leave my husbands affairs, personal and political, to me.” “Yes, my Empress. I apologize, it is not my place to question, forgive me.” She drops to her knees. Empress Nyala waves her away. “Fiki, send everyone in the Bahta… I'm not waiting for the Americans any longer. They may think in their small minds that they run civilization as a whole, but I know different. Their leaders know…” Empress Nyala welcomed the Dawd people, then hopped atop Rajuu and rode back to the majestic palace. Arriving back at the palace, she wasn’t too pleased. “Fiki, I noticed we had unwelcome visitors tonight… Set up the meeting.” “Tonight? Your greatness, it is not wise to conduct such a meeting at nightfall. Plus, you are to greet the Americans on their arrival. It’s dangerous! As your advisor, I heed you, reconsider!” She ignores his warning. Empress Nyala is wise, but she is bold and very adamant. “I am not surprised by their pettifogger ways. The Dawditu will not be intimidated! I will not be intimidated! Nor will I allow them to fraternize with my people in my land… without my permission or ever! 5
Those red-tip Italians have been trying to beat our borders down for centuries. Committed heinous crimes, unspeakable; I can’t let this carry on. Even with the American’s here…” Her rant is filled with rage, but hurt above all and for good reason. “I encourage you to wait for Emperor Hanif’s return Empress. Please!” Fiki pleads. “Did Empress Taitu wait for her husband when she commanded, and won the Battle of Adwa? I will see the Italian scum and show them, with whom the hell they are fucking with! We will not lay down and allow them to piss over us! With their crude, filthy, red tips! Set it up Fiki! Set it up now! I am Negeste Negest, Her Imperial Empress Nyala Yemengee of Ethiopia! Great decedent of Sheba, leader of the Dawditu! Queen… Of… Kings! Fiki reluctantly agreed with reservation, “Yes, my Empress; Negeste Negest!” Meanwhile, the Italian Red Bluff receives a call from the Yemengee’s advisor and impatiently wait outside the Dawditu’s border. “Who does this bitch think she is? Fuck her! I’m the fucking general of the Red Buff! We don’t answer to anyone.” Pietro protested; his Italian accent stout. They hosted the perimeter of the Dawditu’s land; bashing the empire in every breath. “Marchello will have her head,” one said. “Better yet, she can give him head,” another added. “I bet her juice isn’t even juice. I bet its chocolate.” One of the Reds’ said with confidence. They all turned in disbelief of his idiocy. “Much bolder than her husband, I’ll give her that.” “Emperor Hanif is a practical man.” Crack! Tree limbs snap in the distance. Concurrently, the mouths of the red tips shut as their eyes open wide. The men lift their weapons; their bodies Kafkaesque. Pietro, wasn’t fazed, he glared into the 6
S.W. Hewett darkness; he saw the eyes the others did not see. Glowing pairs of canary eyes pierced the darkness. They grew larger the closer they got. “Stand bold buffs!” Pietro yelled. “Is this how you greet royalty? Simmer down now, no need for aggression. They’re practically harmless.” A subtle, coarse as honeydew melon voice, chimed out from the darkness. “With the acts of your earlier audacious ploys… I assumed you'd be fearless. At minimum ready for anything. You like to spring up in places you do not belong. Thought I’d return the favor…” Empress Nyala spoke in subtle spurts. She gracefully stepped down from Rajuu’s back. He roared. His pack echoes. “You are… alone?” Pietro grunted with surprise. “Yes… if you see it that way.” She folded her arms with her fingers pressed adjunct to her elbow fronts. She wasn't in a gold gown, nor was the Tear of Dhawlice present. She was dressed in an ivory, full body suit, which fit her loosely. An ecru belt around her waist plus her royal waist-length Pancho with the imperial crest of the Yemengee, Tafari and Dhawlice families. Bloodline means everything. She wore gold coils around her arm and crystal studded sandals, and of course her crown dazzling above! “Shall we get to business.” She smirked as she lifted her head to the sky with a slight chuckle in her voice. She is stunning, sexy and fierce; and she knows it. Confidence dripping from her fingertips. Back at the palace, Emperor Hanif arrives. He walks through the vast elevated double doors, the atrium’s empty. Quiet. Something’s not right. “Where is Nyala? She usually greets me in the atrium. She isn’t in bed already is she?” “Your majesty.” Fiki Shiroshued. “Where is my wife?” “Well, it is… after midnight, not too early to be sleeping.” Fiki drew out his words as he took a step back with each word. Everyone in 7
the palace was silent. “Fiki! My wife! Where is the Empress?” Emperor Hanif snapped; he grew tired of asking the same question and he played no games when it came to his queen! Fiki sang like a humming bird! “Your greatness I advised her not to do this, you know your wife, she's bull-headed. She’s no bull of course… That’s not what I’m trying to relay.” “FIKI—” Emperor Hanif snapped like an alligator, his voice vicious! “—Do I look like I am in the mood for jokes, for childish games? I’ve been gone for two days, I’m ready to see my wife, not make time for games or half-witted hyperboles!” ‘Cursed! I am not cut out for hatari!’ Fiki thought to himself. “She met with the Italians, Pietro!” Emperor Hanif’s brow sunk in anger. Once he hears Pietro’s name, it took no time for the severity to set in. He burrowed past his guards, pushed through the door like a linebacker pushing the blocking sled. “She went alone? Rajuu? The pride?” “They are with her your greatness” “Then, the Reds’ need to worry…” “I believe the Empress has ventured outside of the border…” Emperor Hanif cut his steps short. His eyes locked on Fiki, whom seemingly cowered small as a sheep cornered by an enraged alpha wolf. His jaw clenched and his fist tightened. He didn’t know if his anger came from his wife’s blatant foolishness, Fiki’s shameful advisement or the disrespect from the Italians; on all levels. They hopped in five onyx sport Range Rover SUVs and sped out towards the North realm. “Are the Americans in the Gahenti huts or the Daratima building? Is the feast still going on?” “Your majesty, they’re not in either camp, unfortunately, their flight was delayed. They actually should be picked up from the airport within the next fifteen minutes. They are listed to lodge in the Gahenti camp.” “I want them in the Daratima camp.” 8
S.W. Hewett “It’s full sir.” “Well un-fill it.” He wordily ordered. “You want me to move the Ambassador of Zimbabwe and his family? What wonderful hospitality the Dawditu has shown us, to wake up my wife and infant child at midnight! Verily, that’s what the chatter will be about for decades to come!” The Emperor groaned in agony. “We have ten minutes to handle this basha before the Americans arrive, five to get to my wife and one to eradicate the Reds ignorant enough to challenge my wife!” Fiki adamantly jotted down notes. “… Take this road on the right.” “Sir, these roads are known to be booby trapped.” The driver replies. “Take the fucking road! I must have been away too long? Did everyone forget who the fuck I AM? Do as your King requires of you. When we stop, you can walk back home.” Sharply, the driver flung the SUV to the right. They sped through the back road, dust flying up like an elephant stampede. Outside the border, Empress Nyala thinks it’s time to spice the pot. One thing about her, she loves food, to see her people happy, and she’s a firm believer in old traditions; but tonight calls for extreme measures. “Now, gentlemen, let us get down to business.” “Directly speaking, I don’t—” She cut him off, displaying zero respect, “Usually, diplomatically, I would listen to what it is you have to say.” “You don’t know who you’re fucking…” ROAR! Rajuu and his pride roared. The red tips were speechless. “Be clear, I have no respect for you. When you weasel into my lands, invade our festivities… you break the rules, upset the balance and leave a horrible stench. You ask yourselves who do I think I am? Or, in your words ‘this bitch, thinks she is’?” She cut her eyes at the guilty party. He shies away, fearing the ferocious lion pack to her left and 9
right. “You see my clothes, my skin, my rooted hair, my crown and yet you ask who I am? Invade my peoples’ land and try to take what is not yours. You can’t get enough chocolate I see. This must stop . It will stop! If you must, make your threats, prepare your men, take precautionary measures… because we would rather die before we allow you any more good graces. You think you have power, you think you have a say? Understand, you’re a pawn and I am the Queen, powerful with reach beyond your small penises. I will do whatever I need to do to protect the Dawditu, to honor them and to protect my King… She folds her arms as a devilish grin marks her words, “Plus, you wouldn’t want the American people finding out who you, the Italians really are, now would you?”
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Part One
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regor Group. Reads the courier sign at the airport’s car shuttle exit. Simultaneously, each Chef of the Gregor Group spotted the sign and approached with haste; it’s been a long flight. One young member, Penelope, approached first as a mother and daughter duo followed. Penelope is strikingly tall, rosy tanned skin, jade eyes and body of stone. No doubt, she’s beautiful, but, reserve is her strong point. The next five members quickly approached. Penelope spoke up first. “Hello ma’am, I see you will be our chauffeur tonight... How are you,” Penelope asks? The sign holder is an elderly lady; seemingly in her late seventies. She kept a bleak expression on her face and did not part her lips when spoken to. Penelope was raised not to speak rudely to her elders. Agitated from a long flight and now being ignored; she wasn’t having it! Shifting her lips while folding her arms she took a few steps back from the old bitty. ‘She better be glad I was raised with respect or she would be getting an ear full right about now,’ Penelope thought to herself. She turned her head, looking for back up from her group of peers, 12
S.W. Hewett but none gave a single response. She shook her head and watched as the members pile up one-by-one. ‘This is going to be a long trip,’ she thought. “Where are the last two members? I thought there were ten of us? I’m ready to get to my five star suite! After a sixteen hour and fortyfour minute flight, dude ready to catch some Zs!” KT said to the rest of the chefs. Up walks a guy standing 6’5. He’s statuesque, ivory skin, with a muscled frame, and broad shoulders. His hair is medium length, umber with low ginger undertones and rough, loose curls. Intense, blue eyes, thick eyebrows which were the focal point of his face. He sported a short boxed beard; lined up perfectly! He wore black jeans with a black and white Tony Montana shirt, and a black leather jacket. He had a tattoo of a skull on his right hand in which he carried his one and only black bag. How he can spend six months in East Africa with one bag, that’ll be interesting to watch! “Sorry, bags got mixed up at baggage claim. I think I am the last one though, we can head out,” he said. The courier didn’t move. “Let’s go!” KT reiterated. Penelope turned towards to the busy crowd of incoming and outgoing passengers; not paying much attention to the two guys rant. “Wait! Wait for me! Don’t leave me! Hey, wait for me!” There was a young woman running towards the Gregor Group with a 10 piece luggage set! Staggering at 5’4, smooth, amber complexion, auburn almond eyes that sparkled, with a smile that could make any man fall to her feet. She’s dazzlingly gorgeous, unique, with one dimple in her right cheek! Lips, poutty and full like fresh lady fingers, nails painted the color of sunshine. She wore cargo, khaki pants with a drawstring at the ankles, pulled tight; forest green fitted tank top with a cropped white moto jacket. On her feet, she wore titanium white ankle wedge sneakers with gray stripes. Her hair is pulled up into a bun with small pearl earring studs in. “Some idiot grabbed my bag and I was stuck at baggage claim 13
trying to convince security it belonged to me! I mean seriously, what man carries partridge gray and pastel yellow polka-dotted rolling luggage? Y’all know how that can be right?” She protested in her southern accent. They stare, some roll their eyes and shake their heads, but no one says anything. “Hello? Ooookay… Hi! I’m Savannah Weyni Summerlin! I usually go by Savii, but I rather you guys call me Weyni pronounce it right, okay! Way-Nay, Ethiopian origin, not ghetto, meaning sweetest desire! It’s so nice to meet y’all!” “Wow… that is so nice… now you have wasted more of our time! Giving us a history lesson on your damn name… which right now, we could give two shits about, princess.” KT stated. In response, Weyni raised one eyebrow. ‘’Rudeness,’’ She snarls! “Now, can we get going?” He said to Ms. old bitty. Still, she said nothing! Her taciturn manner meant nothing to him. “Did you hear me, lady? I had a long trip! I’m ready to lay my ass down! Ready to get to that nice hotel they got us staying in! Ready to get to sleep! We have a busy, early morning ahead of us, so, I need my rest!” KT said. Penelope shook her head up and down in agreement. But! She said nothing to back him up after her run in with the unfriendly old bitty a few minutes earlier. However, she felt conflicted about KT’s remarks; he didn’t have to speak to the old woman like that even if she was a capital B… i-t-t-y! “KT that’s no way to speak to your elder, show some respect. We are all just as tired of being in this airport as you are! We all endure the flight just as you did, so chill out!” Penelope said. The mysterious old lady looked at each member, beginning a head count with her eyes. She studied each member; though they didn’t know it, she knew them all by name. When she was done, she walked away. “What the hell is this woman’s problem man? She doesn’t talk, not answering our questions, she rude as fuck! How the hell are we 14
S.W. Hewett supposed to trust that she is going to take us to the right spot if she isn’t saying shit? I don’t trust this!” KT belted. Everyone shrugged their shoulders, shook their heads and followed her. The group didn’t put up much of a fight, they were too tired. Penelope grabbed KT’s arm and pulled him along. “You win some, you lose some, and today that bitty killed you with silence; forget about it.” She smiled and walked out the airport arm-in-arm with KT. It’s dark outside, about 11:30 pm; everyone remained close together. The guy with one bag tails behind the others quietly as they all approached the green shuttle which was translated “Shuzzy” on the side in cobalt blue lettering. One-by-one, they vaulted on the bus. Savannah stole a seat in the back and filled the seat directly beside her with her ostentatious luggage pieces. KT looked at her, then to the suitcases, then back to her. Shaking his head, he took his seat. Everyone found a place to sit leaving two open seats in the back, directly in front of Savannah. One bag guy acquired the last seat adjacent from her and placed his headphones in his ears. The ride to the hotel was quiet and still as if no one was even on the bus. Street and building lights fade to darkness on all sides. The pavement slid from under their wheels and the rough, bumpy road jerked the shuzzy side-to-side. The lone wolf looks back at Weyni, her eyes are closed. Skin smooth as porcelain, delicate, cool as puff pastry dough. He noticed lights in the distance that are vastly approaching! Zooming past the shuzzy were five black SUVs creating a dust cloud so thick they had to slow down. “Must be an emergency?” Penelope whispered. After thirty minutes they arrived at the hotel. Or, at least they thought they had arrived? There were no city lights, no terrace, doorman, nor a pool! They trailed down the steps of the shuttle, unaware of where they were? They expected to see a tall twenty story building with floors of exquisite hotel suites. Instead, there were twenty-five beige Gahenti’s connected in a bowed line with miniature 15
spaces in between each. From the outside, the gahenti’s were well built; sturdy with flat tops. The inside like small studio apartments. Surrounding the gahenti’s, were huge, open, grassy land met by tall trees on the outskirts. “What is this place? This is not what I saw in the online tour!” Weyni said with assertion. “I knew we couldn’t trust this old lady!” Brow’s wrinkle, frowns appear on the chefs’ faces; as anxiety boils within. The driver turns off the shuzzy, opens the door and walks off. “Where is she going?” KT walked to the front to see 10 pass keys with names attached. “Dude, I don’t care what it looks like, as long as we have a comfy bed, clean water, and the bugs don’t eat us up, I’m good!” Chef Jim says, snatching his key and walking towards the campsite. The rest of the members grabbed their pass keys, picked up their bags, and staggered towards their sleeping quarters. “This is not what I signed up for!” Savannah protested. “What have I gotten myself into?” Penelope whispered to herself; yanking her bags through the grass. This is going to be a long six months…”
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irt swirled around the onyx Range Rovers. The lights are blinding. The Red-Tips cover their eyes and fan the dusty air around them. Empress Nyala didn’t move, her stance solid, she had no concern as to whom the calvary was pulling up. The driver ran around the car and opened the door. Emperor Hanif walks up to his wife and greeted her. His prestige did the speaking; acknowledging her presence above all others. She is his Queen, love of his life, Negeste Negest. “Are you alright, my Queen?” “Yes, my King. I am fine. How was your trip?” She said with complete disregard of the Red tips. “We don’t have time for this lovey-dovey bullshit!” Pietro yelled across the field as he waved his men along. Emperor Hanif kissed his wife on the forehead, then turned to the Reds. “I take it, you all are ignorant. To meet with my Queen at nightfall, to address a Queen alone, unarmed, disrespectfully with no diplomacy. Blatant disregard for the Emperor of the Dawditu. So let me be clear… If you set foot in our country again, period… I will personally watch as our pents rip you all from limb to tendon until your 18
S.W. Hewett wailing mothers have nothing to bury but hair balls! Leave now.” “I thought you said he was the practical one?” “Let’s get the fuck outta here.” One whispered. The Red-Tips focus their eyes on the pack of five lions; tongues hanging from their mouths, licking in circular motions. The lionesses arch their backs, extend their front legs, positioning themselves to pounce at any given moment. Empress Nyala’s steadfast with a smile across her face. The Reds quickly retreat through the woods. Emperor Hanif waits until they all have vanished. He sends the pride into the darkness to make sure they are gone. “Back to the palace,” his hand motions the entourage. “Fiki, you will drive us. Let the driver know he’s to ride with the fourth SUV.” “Yes, your greatness.” “Oh my! Fiki? Not giving you back talk? Not asking you a question? How can I get him to do that for me?” Emperor Hanif smiles at his wife; he missed his Queen dearly. He opens the door for her, helping her to step in. “I’m glad you’re okay. We have great matters to speak on when we arrive home. There is much happening within the next five hours so we need to be ready to uphold our commitments. I believe we passed the Americans on the way here, let’s be pleased that this ended in our favor.” “Yes, my King, our commitments will bring our desires to fruition… tomorrow will be prodigious… One Love.”
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eyni’s alarm clock went off at 5:59 am. ‘Beep! Beep! Beep!’ Startled, she jumped out of her bed rolling onto the floor. Her eyes darted from left to right around her room, making sure there were no witnesses to her fall. She turned the water on in the shower of the small bathroom. As the water heats up, she washes her face, and brushed her teeth at the sink. She pulls back the shower curtain, sticks her hand in the sprouting water to feel for the perfect temperature. In her quaint, yellow and gray polka dotted bag, she pulled out travel sized toiletries. In a plastic bag lying on the table, she grabbed a shaving razor that she brought from the airport shop. Next, she plugs in two small speakers, where she attaches her phone. Chef Weyni has to have an early morning wake-up song! Every morning she attends and stars in her own music concert! First song to be played [Get Right by J.Lo]! She sang as she shaved her legs in the shower! After taking a hot shower, she applied moisturizer to her face; shooting for a natural glow rather than a glossy appearance. Next, two swipes of mascara to each lash and moisture rich lip balm onto her luscious lips, then a blood orange matte finish. She wasn’t one to tarnish 20
S.W. Hewett her natural beauty; better to let her southern charm shine. Precipitously, she got dressed, tossing all of her necessities for the day in a long strapped tote. But, she takes a moment to gently fold a black and butter polka-dotted, reversible, frilly apron. She slid her feet into the matching rain-boots. Then, threw her tote over her shoulder, rushed out the door and locking it behind her. As she opens the door, she smells the morning dew; noticing it gleam off of the bushes and the grass. It looks like floating water drops cover the land. She stands on the porch, gripping the banister, taking a moment to watch the rising of the sun. Mornings weren’t this still, weren’t this calm or quiet where she was from. Even though she was in a different country, it was the same sun; it rose the same way. Creeping over the tree tops, shining through the pits of branches and leaves. The rays lit up her skin, soothing it like an Epsom salt bath. She closes her eyes as she soaked it all in. It’s breathtaking. She began to trek towards the shuzzy lot where her group had been dropped off last night. She was the first one to arrive. Watching the remainder of the Gregor Group members walk out of their rooms; she leaned on a post and slid her shades on. It quickly grew from soothingly warm to hot and sunny outside. She smiled as they all approached. The tallest guy who sat adjacent from her last night arrived next. “Here you go.” She said as she handed him a black pair of shades. “You left these in the seat last night… you were too far ahead and I didn’t know which room you would be in; didn’t want to bother anyone since everyone was so tired.” He takes the sunglasses and places them on his face. “Thank you… Savannah Weyni pronounced Way-Nay.” She smiles so hard her right dimple appears! “You paid attention?” She asks surprised. “Yes, plus the fact that your name has an Ethiopian origin as well. You must be excited to be over here? ...but tell me, how can you be the Sweetest Desire?” 21
“What’s your name?” she asked. “I’m Liam.” He answered. “Nice to meet you Chef Liam… I embody Sweetest Desire…as natural as the sweetness in honey and agave… only one can be, because I am… I reckon you’ll just have to find out the truth for yourself one day.” He was captivated by Miss Savannah Weyni’s country, southern charm. Her voice was smooth as velvet; richly decadent as moist dark chocolate cake. His trance was broken by the chatter of the approaching members. The Gregor Group Chefs sluggishly arrive at the shuzzy spot, dressed in their whites. Chef Weyni, on the other hand, she was extremely energetic, practically a four year old on popsicles! Their chauffeur slowly staggered behind. Instinctively, she began a head count with her eyes; darting her eyes from one member to the next and back again. “Are we going to get any direction today or are we just winging this shit?” KT asked in frustration. “Don’t even start KT; let’s just start this morning off on a good note… shall we!” Penelope proclaimed as she pushed him towards the bus. Enthusiastically, the Gregor Group members climbed the shuzzy steps; filling the exact seats they acquired last night. Everyone, that is, except Liam! He sat by Miss southern, sweet, Savannah Weyni; taking the place of her many luggage pieces. Having no need for his headphones, he stuffed them in his pocket as he shared in conversation with Weyni. She grinned, smiled with her eyes, and laughed genuinely at all of his jokes! Southern women know how zone in on a guy. When she has her eyes set on you, you’re good as peach cobbler in a bachelor pad full of mama’ boys! Gone! Penelope glanced back at the two; both wearing their sunglasses and equal smiles. She had seen this before, except this time she was confused. 22
S.W. Hewett Red dust flew up as they rode over the bumpy roads. The shuzzy creaked with each dumpy pit. The chefs are ecstatic to finally be in the presence of this majestic, newly built structure, known as the Bahta! Nacreous in appearance. The metallic luster reminded the Dawditu of the gleaming stones reflecting the sun’s rays at the bottom of the Bahta river. “Wow! This place is huge!” The chefs oww’d and ahh’d! Walking through the Bahta, they noticed the greenery in the entrance, thousands of unfolded chairs and tables to be set up. There were mounted pictures of the royal family, past chefs, and their delectable signature dishes. There were at least a 800 Dawditu people within the centers open space. The Dawditu people were the ones who protected the borders from invading Italians; who sought to possess their natural resources and diamond rich lands. The savage men would never admit that they were there for the Nubian women. Each member was captivated by the sight of the enchanting Dawditu, for they were projecting elegance. The women’s bodies were unmatched with any supermodel on a Parisian catwalk. Their beauty secrets have been sought after for hundreds of years, yet are still unknown. The virility of the men can only be known if you know their history because to see them today you would think they were all standing in line waiting to be seated on the throne as the newly crowned Emperor. The group was quickly escorted to the back to begin preparing meals for the day. Everyone unloaded their culinary utensils and equipment. Weyni set her station up next to Liam; KT set his station to the right of Savannah Weyni with Penelope on the other side. During the preparations, the chauffeur struts in alongside a Bible toting priest wearing an all-black suit with a cleric collar; his expected idiom. “We would like to thank you all for taking the time to come and help out those in need. It is important, as people of God; we walk by 23
faith and give in pure love. It is important that we come to mission to a country in suffrage, those who need our help receive it. Matthew 25:35 says ‘I was hungry and you gave me something to eat, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you invited me in.’ Even though we are strangers to this country we still can be the blessings that they invited in! The blessing is in giving; not in receiving. So again, I thank you all for taking the time to come use your God given talents to help all these people out and I am sure that God will continue to bless each of you. So as you can see there are hundreds of hungry people waiting for your wonderful food and services! I won’t keep you from your work that God has sent you to do! Thank you Chef Penelope, Chef Suki, Chef Liam, Chef Jim, Chef Tristian, Chef Cori, Chef Anna, Chef Sarah, Chef KT, and Chef Savannah—” “It’s Chef Weyni, I go by Weyni.” She cut the priest off. With an awkward smile he continued, “—you all can begin your cooking now!” The pastor finished his speech with a heartfelt smile and wave before walking out with the old lady; quiet as usual. “Hey preacher man… What happened to the Emperor and Empress greeting us?” Penelope asks curiously. “Excuse me?” he answered. “We were told that we would be meeting the royal court when we arrived.” “Not today.” “Damn bro! Does anything go as planned ‘round here? First, we are promised these grand Daratima suites, yet we in Gahenti’s, fucking courier is rude as fuck, we suppose to meet the royals and now that ain’t happening!” KT blurts out. Penelope nudges him. They continue out the door. The kitchen became busy as a beehive. Weyni pulled out her yellow and black apron that matched her rain-boots. She pulled it over her head and began to tie it around her waist. “You need some help with that Lil’ lady?” Liam asks. “No thank you, I’m sure I got it. Thanks, chef.” 24
S.W. Hewett The kitchen is filled with the newest technological sound appliances; you would think they were preparing for the emperor and empress themselves. Any utensil or appliance the chefs needed was provided for them: giant ovens, sausage and sauce makers, hand and stand mixers, candy thermometers, graters, grilles, steel knife sets, ice cream machine, pasta machine and much more. Today is a very important day for the chefs. This is the time for them to display their skills, display their passion, and to some, prove their worth. Out of all the different characteristics of the chefs, the kitchen unifies them. Along with the new appliances there were polished stainless steel tables and long farmer’s golden oak counter tops. The royal family along with the Gregor Foundation spared no expense in the Bahta design. Providing them with everything they need and fun culinary trinkets that they alone appreciate. Across the room stood a massive black chalkboard, chubao to the Dawd’s, with a cluster of colorful chalkboard art. The chubao covered the entire wall; listing the time to begin and finish every meal plus the event itinerary for the day, posted in colorful columns. Cori and Suki modeled for pictures with their chef caps while everyone else prepped and prepared menus. Tristian and Jim quickly ran towards the pantry! So fast that Jim’s tall chef hat fell off his head! Of course, breakfast was first on the menu; starting immediately, ending at 10:00 am. The Dawditu made fresh coffee for the Gregor Group. Grown in their backyards, ground coffee beans by hand, and made traditionally over a hot fire. Coffee is and has always been one of Ethiopia’s largest exports. As tradition, the Dawditu awoke every sunrise and drank a cup of fire-made, hand-ground coffee.They are, in fact, the first to discover the coffee bean could be drunk and enjoyed daily. The chefs take a sip of the freshly made coffee. It is the best espresso ever to cross their lips! Strong and effervescent; exactly what they needed to put some fire under their tails; this surely will get them 25
through the day! The Emperor and Empresses council decided to give each chef a specific meal to make based on the ingredients available. This was their first mistake with this group of chefs. The mother and daughter duo, unsurprisingly, were the only two whom stuck to what they were asked to make. These chefs know cooking in their souls; they went with what their guts. No ones gut ever asked for plain Jane, no flavor, oatmeal or bland cauliflower. Cooking was not just about a recipe, what the back of the box said or the menu someone else laid out for them; it was to make dishes their way. An art, a calling; to take a person, on a journey. Whether it be a journey of the season, the plant, its origin, or the simplicity of flavor. Quiche over scrambled, brioche over biscuits; it’s the know-how. Not that you can’t have a scone or biscuit for breakfast, but why not try pulling apart the hundreds of layers in your croissant? Wondering how many times your pastry chef rolled out, folded and dusted the dough before the buttery delicacy landed in front of you. The chefs had to ensure enough meals were prepared to feed nearly five to six hundred healthy breakfast, lunch, dinner, and dessert meals. This isn’t an easy task for ten so they each have a couple of sous chefs to help from the Yemengee’s personal culinary team. Surely, they will inspire the dishes to fit the Dawditu pallet. Each chef has special culinary training, except Savannah Weyni. Growing up in the rural south, she’d push her little step stool up to the kitchen counter and watch the women in her family cook. She can recall the sun gleaming through the window of the kitchen, watching her grandmother make everything from scratch! Pie crusts, gravy, chicken-breader, corn bread, collard greens; it was a direct insult to bring in store-bought anything! And don’t even think about coming in with store-bought jelly! Her mother had so many jars of homemade peach, apple, and strawberry jam to last an apocalypse! She admired the women in her life and became self-taught in the savory and pastry culinary arts. In gardening there are some who possess a green thumb; she had a curry-red thumb when it comes to culinary; nothing short of a 26
S.W. Hewett professional in the kitchen. Weyni whipped her wrist around and around as she whisked hollandaise sauce. She was preparing her rendition of eggs benedict with goat meat; accompanied by a sweet potato hash brown cake. Moving the sauce on and off of the low heat; rapidly whisking to make sure the eggs didn’t firm and scramble. Now, sweet potatoes were not on the menu until dinner, but there was an abundance of them in the kitchen so Savannah took full advantage of them. Along with the sweet potatoes, the pantry was stocked with fresh ears of corn, yams, rice, potatoes, and ice, green, and gold, peppers mirroring the Ethiopian flag. Weyni was a fireball in the kitchen; moving quickly as she instructed her sous chef to start poaching eggs. In the midst of the chaos, she noticed KT was writing down his menu. “KT, do you not see what’s going on over here?” You do see me whisking this hollandaise sauce right? I mean, I’m going in over here!” KT gave her a blank stare and kept writing. “I’m making the best eggs benedict these people will ever put in their mouths, so you should do something else! We don’t want everyone to eat the same thing. I’m sure the Dawditu people deserve to have a variety of appetizing foods. We have the eggs benedict down pack over here. How about you make a French toast with a fresh berry juice?” Weyni suggested. KT stares at her and erased what he previously wrote and began creating a new menu with his sous chef. ‘She better be glad she already started doing that sauce,’ he thought to himself. She looked over at Liam as he worked. “Maybe the good pastors’ speech rubbed off on him!” He said as they both laughed! “What are you making Liam? I see you have seafood out. My favorite” She asks. “When I think about breakfast, I love it to be a little outside the box. I’m a man, I like big meals! I’m making spiced grits with shrimp and 27
a little secret kick.” He replied. “What’s the kick?” “Well, if I told you that it wouldn’t be my secret kick now would it. I’ll just tell you this; it will blow you out them Lil’ yellow boots you got on there.” “Um hmm… that good, huh? Okay chef, I will take your word for it and let my taste buds do the judging.” She replied as she was stirring her hollandaise sauce. Quickly, she ran to the serving station and pulled out a crock pot from the shelves. She placed it on her station. “Why do you have a crock pot?” Liam asked. “Well, I have a ton of this hollandaise to make so I need somewhere to keep it all warm for a bit so I’ll use it to do that for me. Where I’m from we have don’t have a host f fancy machinery. My grandma used to say ‘doing it the right ain’t what matters, its’ getting the job done by any means necessary!’ This gets the job done trust me.” She replied with confidence. Liam stares in amazement as she cooked. She was small but fierce, country chic, openly sweet, and assertive. She had an edge about her. He was smitten by her spunk, charm, even her ambiguity. She happened to look up to catch I’m staring in her direction! Dropping the large ladle in his sauce, it splashed all over his chef’s jacket. His whites are now blood orange! The chefs and sous chefs snicker; Savannah smiled as she flipped the goat meat flanks. Confidently, he smirked, wiped his whites, then strolled over to the sink; he didn’t embarrass easily. Afterwards, Chef Weyni stormed through the pantry grabbing: yeast, bread and teff flour, eggs, salt, sugar, unsalted butter, goat milk, goat butter, nutmeg. ‘She can’t be doing what I think she is doing! If she makes a pastry I’m going to explode!’ Liam thought to himself as he whipped the grits. Liam, seeing, Weyni with pastry staples almost nutted on himself. He is in fact a pastry chef, he loves desserts and sweets. Mama’s and mavens alike always said, “The quickest way to a 28
S.W. Hewett man’s heart, is through his stomach!” She poured warm water into the stand mixer along with sugar and the yeast. It became frothy; she let it stand for a minute, then turned the mixer on with a dough hook as she added in the eggs. Then she warmed the goat milk and added the unsalted butter along with the goat butter. Once partially melted, she then poured it in the mixer with more flour; adding it in one cup at a time. “What kind of pastry are you making, chef?” Liam asks. “Brioche, more specifically goat milk and butter brioche!” She answered with confidence. “Making buns for your eggs benedict; great touch to make them from scratch. What made you use the goat milk instead of regular or better yet buttermilk? I prefer buttermilk,” he said. “Because goat milk is familiar to the Dawds, naturally it’s a tab bit sweet, creamy and it’s basically the same taste as regular cow milk. So why not try something new! I really want the Dawditu to be impressed with my food, skill, and understanding of the food they traditionally love.” His mouth parted, his mind takes off as he fixates on her words, ‘creamy and sweet’. Her sous chef had been grading the sweet potatoes for the hash cake. When she finished mixing the dough, she, along with her sous chef, pulled the dough apart into medium sized balls to form the rolls. Then she placed them on a bread rack and rolled it into the bread proofer to let them rise. Wasting no time, she diced Vidalia onions, minced garlic, and grated fresh ginger in a bowl with cinnamon, eggs and a pinch of salt to taste. She adds the grated potatoes to the bowl and folded the ingredients in and formed small cakes. Round, moist patty cakes sizzle as they hit the hot buttered skillet. The scent of cumin and ginger reign potent in the kitchen air. Knives chopping across the golden oak cutting boards, perfect knife skills. The cooling machine vibrates and hums as it instantly cools warm chicken and candy; water boiling, grease popping, 29
blenders mixing; this is it! The chefs are in the thick of it, the place where they create masterpieces; dishes that people will talk about a year from now! Multitasking, Weyni cooked the goat flanks until tender; adding seasoning on to ensure fresh flavor. Surprisingly, three to four hours of prep and cooking flew by very quickly. Scents of maple, tangy citrus, fresh fruits, baked goods and delectable cooking filled the air; this is what they lived for. The mother-daughter duo finished up early and began passing out water bottles to as many people as they could reach. They wore skirts down to their ankles, their golden blonde hair wrapped in a braided low bun, no makeup whatsoever, and necklaces with a cross pendant. As they passed the water out, the Dawditu men stood proudly while the women, children, and elders filled the tables. The Bahta is bursting with people, overwhelming with a radiant spirit. Mothers holding babies, children running around laughing and playing; everyone is so thrilled! A few Dawditu, along with the sous chefs, served nobly as volunteers to all. The chefs storm in, ordering the volunteers to begin passing out their first dish of the day! For breakfast, the modest mother-daughter duo made pancakes with five spice powder incorporated into the batter. Alongside the pancakes, they made a beef sausage scramble with finely chopped ice, green and gold peppers and tomatoes; seasoned with thyme and black pepper atop a sysmir berry chutney. With the vibe they gave off, you wouldn’t suspect them to make a dish as daring as a five spice pancakes with sausage scramble atop of sysmir berry chutney! The sysmir berry is native to only East African lands. It has a unique ability to manipulate your taste buds; turning anything sour you eat to sweet tasting! They spread the magenta, sysmir berry chutney on the plate first. Next, the sausage atop the chutney with the pancakes stacked right beside. The plate was colorful, presented very neat and clean. They specialize in presentation above all things. It was time to allow the Dawditu the chance to experience their wonderful produce, 30
S.W. Hewett wheat, and meat in a way that only the Gregor group chefs could prepare. Volunteers load the plates onto carts that could carry up to about twenty-four dishes out at a time. The carts have built in warmers in the base trays to ensure all the Dawditu received warm meals! As the first round of dishes went out, Weyni garnished her plates. She pulled dozens of trays out of the huge oven and placed them on the tall bread rack. The smell of freshly baked, butter, yeast rolls, fills the air. “The brioche buns smell great Savannah, I mean Weyni,” Liam says. She smiles at him, flutters her eyelashes, “Thanks, chef.” Chefs’ are always looking for a way to make a dish their own. Weyni mastered this trait; her dishes possessed charisma and character! In this case, her buns and drizzling hollandaise in the shape of a [W] atop of her eggs benedict; it was her signature to every dish. She layered the buns with spinach, grilled goat meat, poached egg, and tamarind infused hollandaise sauce. Crisp potato cakes lay next to the eggs benedict; her plated presentation pays homage to autumn hues, like the pastures of farmland. The remaining chefs finished up their dishes except Penelope; she is the perfectionist that moved in silence a bit dallier than the rest. Miso pork belly with egg and cheese wraps, fresh apple strudels, cinnamon and nutmeg oatmeal with fresh berries, shrimp and grits, roasted coffee beans with pure vanilla and cream, pancakes, French toast. Savannah Weyni stepped into the kitchen doorway looking out at the commotion in the dining area. All the hungry faces were not sad, were not frail but full of hope, smiles and laughter. She smiles at them as she opened her water and took a sip. “Are you going to eat now?” Liam asks as he folded his arms and stood next to her. “Yeah, I mean, I really hadn’t even thought about eating. I see all this food, smell it, love it, but I haven’t thought about what we would eat, I didn’t come here to eat… I came for them…” She looked out at 31
the Dawditu in admiration. “Come on, come try my shrimp and grits and I’ll try your eggs benedict. Deal?” “Deal.” She heads for the kitchen. Tugging came from her apron strings. She turned around to see. “Asante…” said a small girl with huge bright eyes. “You’re welcome sweetie,” she said to the little girl. Liam walks over to the chubao, places a bowl of his shrimp and grits on the table near Chef Weyni. She joins Chef Liam with her eggs benedict and sweet potato hash cake. She was hesitant, he’s up to something, but her curiosity drove her to partake in his request. Leaning her head to the left, she squints her eyes, “I don’t really like to try other peoples cooking like that… so… yeah… better hope I enjoy it.” “What? You should be glad to have the opportunity for my food to grace your lips.” Their eyes lock. They were at a standoff, like old westerners gun dueling. Examining each dish, smelling, deconstructing, and then tasting. Liam cut into Savannah’s eggs benedict, the bright yolk oozing out onto the grilled goat and brioche. The first bite was intense; he closed his eyes for three seconds as he savored the flavors. Savannah Weyni watches him eat with satisfaction radiating through his expressions. His temple retracts with each bite. His pallet approves! “Damn, that’s good,” Liam said. “I concur,” she adds. “I know what the kick is in your shrimp and grits.” “You couldn’t possibly guess all the seasonings in my dish yet alone the ones that give it the punch!” He was confident. “What do you want to bet?” Liam laughed as he forked the sweet potato cake down the middle and took another bite. “Betting is a dangerous sport lil lady.” She raised her left brow with confidence. 32
S.W. Hewett “Okay… How about if you guess my secret kickers I will cook you dinner and serve you?” “That’s too easy, we are chefs, and I need you to come up with something better than that. Let’s say, if I know your secret kickers, that you come to my hometown and do a benefit dinner for the needy in my community.” “What? Why would I come to your hometown?” “You will come because you are going to lose this bet!” “For one, I don’t know where you are from but it doesn’t matter because there’s no way you are going to guess them all.” “So we have a deal then? If I guess the kickers then you have to come do a benefit dinner with me in my hometown when we get back to the states to help the people in my community.” “Deal.” “Salt, black pepper, coriander, chile! And the best part, your kickers, asafetida and sumac! Using them you avoided over seasoning! You used asafetida to get the garlic and onion scent and flavor all in one spice and a lemony herb taste from the sumac. I actually think its genius quite delicious! They pair well with the freshness of the shrimp and the sumac is native to African climate, guaranteeing the Dawditu would love it! Can’t wait to see you back in the states chef!” She smiled and sashayed from the high table towards Cori and Suki. Liam pressed his lips tightly together, licks his lips and shook his head in amazement. “What do you have on?” Cori asks Weyni. “What do you have on?” “Did you bring a change of clothes to the Bahta?” Cori asks as she turns her neck forty five degrees to the left. “I’m wearing a mint, peach, and billowy cloud color argyle apron with an over the shoulder purse and rain boots to match! Don’t you like? I love!” “Not really my style. But anyway, how do you like it over here?” “My first day has been amazing. What about y’all?” “I’ve traveled all my life. I’ve been to South Africa before, so this 33
climate and the people are somewhat familiar.” Suki says. “I mean, it’s been okay, this is only the first day. But the food! I love tasting everyone’s meals. That mother daughter-duo is quiet as hell, but they threw down with breakfast! I can’t believe they used the sysmir berries in their dishes. I wouldn’t want the berries to affect everyone’s pallet.” “The sysmir effect only last about thirty minutes.” “HM. Chef Liam.” “What about him?” “How long does his effect last?” Suki and Cori giggle! “I wouldn’t know… didn’t know he had an effect.” “Oh, you know… you know very well.” Suki says. “So how do you think the Queen is going to be when she sees us?” “Maybe, she’s already seen us, just doesn’t want to get too close.” “Why wouldn’t she want to meet us?” “Because she is a Queen. We aren’t from here.” “But a Queen that brought us here. I think she’ll be excited to see us. I have a great deal of respect for her. For any woman who can steal lead in a traditional country. Over here men are still seen as the providers, protectors, and law. When I was home, I read that she alone has opened up new schools for children, and her family started this foundation to provide for her people.” Weyni says. “She’s probably a snobbish bitch.” “Bite your tongue!” Weyni says as she crosses her arms. “She probably is. And we are in the Gahenti’s when I know damn well we were told we would be in the Daratima hotel! I want that hotel damn it!” Cori protests. “Me too!” Suki chimes in agreement! Cori hops from her stool, then circles the girls. “I say, after dinner tonight, we pack are things and take a trip to the Daratima!” “You guys are out of your minds! You can’t just pack your things and truck across the land and waltz into the Daratima! How are you going to get there? How will you get in?” Weyni whispers. “Our passes still have the reservations listed on their Weyni. We can catch a shuzzy, show the hotel staff, our booking, reservation, and tell them we were a day late and got lost!” “Oh, you got it all figured out, don’t you…” 34
S.W. Hewett Cori stares into Weyni’s eyes. “So are you with us or not?”
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he chefs’ whites are painted with red and white sauces. They pack their utensils and clean their tables. Darkness fell quickly as they loaded onto the shuttle. “Let me carry that for you,” Liam swoops beside Weyni to carry her overloaded bags. “Ah!” she shrieked. “Did I scare you?” “No, I don’t scare easily Darlin’. I just don’t know why you’re snatching my bags instead of asking to carry them like a gentleman does.” “Who said I was a gentleman? But, I didn’t mean to startle you,” he walked up the shuzzy stairs behind her. He sat her bag down in the last seat on the right side. The chefs rode back to the camp site. Cori fell asleep on Suki’s shoulder. Penelope tried to stay awake, but drifted off while KT ranted about the wrongs of the day. He looked down at her wondering why she took slumber on his arm. Everyone sluggishly walked to their rooms; preparing for another 36
S.W. Hewett long day. Weyni climbs the steps to her room, then stuck her key in the door. ‘Dang! I left my tote on the shuzzy.’ She thought to herself. She takes a look around then dashed off towards the shuzzy. Her rain boots dipping up dirt behind her. She looks around as she pulls open the door. The night was still, frogs croaked, grasshoppers chirped. Majestic, tall trees, stood still around the camp site edges. Quickly grabbing her tote, she ran back to the hut. She put her key to the door again. Suddenly, she was grabbed from behind! Her mouth was covered and she was pushed up against the wall. She let out a murmur! Then, she heard a scraggly, deep accent, “Don’t scream!” Her eyes opened wide in terror. It was dark, she couldn’t see, fear flushed her body! You could hear her heart beating over the grasshoppers! “Open the door and walk inside,” the voice whispered again. Her breathing hastened but she did exactly what was asked of her. She was pushed down on the bed. “I thought you didn’t scare easily!” She quickly turned around to see Liam laughing! “LIAM!” “Shh…keep it down; you don’t want to wake the others!” “I don’t give two chicken squats about waking the others! What is wrong with you? You scared the hell out of me!” “Come with me. I want to show you something!” He said. “Come with you? Are you crazy? You sneak up behind me and practically kidnap me!” “I didn’t kidnap you! It was a joke!” “By law kidnapping is when you move someone from one place to another by force or without their consent! I gave no consent to any of this!” “Just trust me Weyni…” “Where would we go around here? There’s nothing but forest for miles plus it’s too late! You know we have to be up early in the morning; now I really think you’re trying to kidnap me!” 37
“If you come with me, you will see what I’m talking about. Live a little and stop trying to be a know it all!” She dropped her bags down beside her bed and took her apron off. Liam led her out the door around the left side of the huts. The air was hot and humid. She watched the lightning bugs flicker as they strolled through the wood. “I think we have gone far enough,” she said with a tremble in her voice. He didn’t answer her he just kept leading the way. “Liam, did you hear me? I’m turning around.” He kept walking until they came to these two huge trees. Between the trees hung a hammock with a sheer canopy around it to keep out the bugs. Banana trees, tropical foliage, small white flower bushes, more hammocks all spread out within the arboretum. She looked surprised; she maintained a casual smile on her face. Liam got in first and reached for her hand. “What is this? Where did these hammocks come from?” She asks with a puzzled look on her face. He extended his hand again. Halfheartedly, she grabbed his hand and slid in beside him. Calmly she whispered, “Liam this is beautiful, how did you find this place?” “I couldn’t sleep last night, I went for a walk and I found this arboretum. I thought you might find it relaxing. Life is better when lived spontaneously… thought you might like to experience it with me.” “Why do I need to relax?” “We are going to be here for six months, if you want the other chefs to like you, not sabotage your stay nor food, then I think you need to relax.” “I haven’t done anything to them!” “You were late getting here due to all your baggage, you wear wedged sneakers and boots when we’re in whites, jump into everyone’s pots, and you made the dude change his whole menu!” She glanced to the side and smirked. 38
S.W. Hewett “What do my heels have to do with them not liking me! My shoes obviously did the job. I love wedges. Not the wheat and burlap looking ones though. They are hideous!” Liam gave the hammock a little rock to get them swaying. “It’s really beautiful out here… Looking up at the sky, I see the stars and I think about seeing my family and the reason why we are here. We get to do what we love while helping others. To me, there’s no greater feeling.” She said. Liam yawned and wrapped his arm around her shoulder. “You are so cliché!” They both laughed! “It’s okay if you call me Savannah.” “I thought you told everyone to call you Weyni.” “Everyone else does.” “Savii.” “What?” “Glad we understand each other.” He smirked. She wasn’t concerned with his brevity. “So what’s your favorite dish to make?” “My favorite dish to make… Oh man. I’ll say beef Wellington.” “Beef Wellington? Ha! Why?” “It was one of my dad’s favorite meals. Plus, it’s a complicated dish. I enjoy a challenge, a risk. I mean savory duxelles enwrapping the flavorful tenderloin. The flakiness of the puff pastry wrapped around the duxelles and sirloin like a present waiting to be cut open.” “Duxelles… that’s a fancy way of saying mushroom sauce right?” “Its’ sautéed and chopped up, not soupy nor thick; more like a paste. What do you enjoy making?” “Shrimp n’ gravy and rice! Oh my Lord, it is heaven to my taste buds! I love seafood!” “I’ve never had it. Do you mean shrimp etouffee? What do you put in it?” “No…I mean shrimp n’ gravy and rice. Just because I didn’t attend culinary school does not mean I don’t know what I am talking about 39
Liam.” “I didn’t mean it like that, I just…“ “Whatever. I know that etouffee is seafood, shellfish in a gravy smothering rice,” she said with a smug tone. “But that’s a Louisiana thing and I’m a Carolina girl! I prefer to let the shrimp shine and not be overpowered by a spicy tomato base sauce. In Carolina, we like white and brown gravy. Honestly, I love developed flavors, but I also like simplicity as well. Like 3-4 seasonings. I learned how to make it from my grandma. She’s the best cook! I can only wish to be half the cook she is! You need to stop testing me.” “Calm down. We’re in a hammock in Ethiopia! Get over yourself. I have tasted your food Weyni, I know you can cook. Everyone isn’t underestimating you.” “No one should underestimate me. Ever” “Is this a competition for you? I thought you wanted to impress and help the Dawditu. That’s why we are all here.” She lowered her eyes after coming back down off her throne. She was a bit taken back. Now, Weyni doesn’t get nervous often, so when she does she makes jokes. Casual jokes. Not so funny jokes. “Why did the chef only use real butter?” “What?” Liam’s brow wrinkled. “Why did the chef only use real butter?” “Okay, I’ll play along… because… real butter tastes better.” “The chef only used real butter because he had no margarine for error!” She laughed hysterically! “Ah ha ha ha hauuhhh…” her laugh faded to an awkward pause. “Better be glad you can cook and you’re cute…” “I’m so much more than cute though. I like to think of myself as the Nubian Queen.” Liam never heard a girl speak the way Weyni spoke. When she opened her mouth people listened and he was no different. He was used to the occasional ‘yeah, totally’ in agreement to what he said; but she actually had something to say back. Yes, she is beautiful, talented, and 40
S.W. Hewett witty, but inside of him, he felt that threat growing. Wrecking the very foundation he had built. “I always knew that when this opportunity presented itself to me that I would be here. But this, here, with you this I never expected that this would happen. I’m intrigued. Watching you today in the kitchen was attractive to me. Hearing you speak is attractive to me. You’re one dimple is attractive to me. I knew the conventional method of just ‘getting to know you’ wouldn’t work since we won’t be over here for that long. So I took a risk.” She let him speak. His words spreading like warm butter on a hot roll. Stars twinkled brightly, seemingly so close that she could grab them with the extension of her hand. She exhaled calmly. Weyni turned from the stars of the night sky to the stars in Liam’s eyes. He looked deeply into her eyes. “I have to admit, I didn’t expect to be lying in a hammock with my kidnapper either—” She paused as he laughed hysterically. “—I am young, just had my twenty-second birthday before I came over here. Now, I am traveling the world. My dream has come to fruition and I am in the mist of enjoying every second!” Her emotions overwhelmed her with joy; her voice peaked! “Where I’m from yonder is a real word and young yins run around all over the place! Where, chasing after hens, sitting out on the porch, jumpin’ ditches, and chewing on sour-weeds are past times! Everyone knows everyone… Where I am from, not many ‘toms are crushing on Kenisha’s.” Her voice grew to a calm whisper. “Is that why you want to be called Weyni instead of Savannah? “No.” “I want to know you for who you are… I want this to be a trip we will never forget. Plus, you’re hot! Any man would be attracted to you.” “I know. It’s just vanilla beans are really brown, but yet the color is portrayed as creamy and white when it’s a brown bean. You get me? I know society is trying to show advancement in dating today but when 41
you are confined to one specific area, the pickings are very slim! I didn’t date in high school at all!” “Really. Why not, what’s wrong with you?” “Nothing is wrong with me!” She laughed and pinched him! “See, that’s your problem. Violence!” “Nuh-uh!” They both chuckle. “I didn’t date in high school because some of the guys were my cousins, then some had girlfriends already, then there were a few Uglies so I was left with nothing… and I’m the Crème de la Crème so no way I was dealing with the sour milk left in the bottom of the bucket. “Yeah, I understand. That’s got to be rough. You sure you weren’t one of those kissing cousins I hear about!” “You’re so enjoying this!” “I’m not going to lie, I am.” “Being from a small, country town, we only yearn to see places like this, to travel all over. Some of the same people back home, even though they want to travel and do big things. They won’t.” “Why” “Because they are scared.” “Scared of what?” “The unknown… So used to doing things one way; ‘the way it’s always been done’. Those people don’t think that they can make it big, that their dream is attainable; they feel confined to one location. Mind you, they're good people, but they’re cowards. I couldn’t live like that. Negeste Negest.” “Negest? What does that mean?” “Queen of Kings.” “Queens don’t rule over kings. Didn’t you hear? This is a man’s world,” he smirks. “You’re permitted to your opinion, but you are wrong.” “Which queen have you ever heard that ruled over a king? King’s rule, queens are their wives on the throne, who only take over if the king dies.” 42
S.W. Hewett She gave him the side eye. “You’re not serious, are you?” “Yeah. Queen Elizabeth ruled over Britain I know, but they had a power shift when the men kept dying.” “You went to public school all your life I assume… I am betting you never heard of Empress Eleni, Empress Menen, Empress Taitu or Empress Zewditu. They had husbands, yet they all had rule and some more powerful than their husbands. They didn’t have to wait for approval, they had followers, appointed appropriate positions, owned small business and led battles! How many times have you seen Queen Elizabeth lead a battle?” She paused. He didn’t answer. The Emperors came to them for their council and favor. Ethiopian Empresses are Negeste Negest… Queens of Kings. ” “That’s reputable.” “You know culinary terms I know my history and I can still cook.” “How about we don’t try to quiz one another.” “Okay… I see you don’t want to know any African history, at the least you should understand why you are here in Ethiopia.” “I am here to cook, to use my talent in culinary.” “Maybe you should of done your due diligence before you hopped on the plane.” “And here I just thought you were pretty, upbeat and southern sweet…” “I’m sweet yet spicy.” Weyni gave her history lesson a rest and rested her head upon Liam’s shoulder. He held her while they swayed back and forth in the hammock; existing only in that moment. Dreamily, a cool breeze blew through the midnight air, cutting through the sheer canopy. In sync, they breathed in each other’s air; energy transferring back and forth. Hundreds of fireflies flicker like sea level stars. “I can feel you breathing on me,” Weyni whispered. “Don’t just feel me, breathe me in…” Liam turned to her as he exhales, blowing out air; gazing directly in her eyes. She leaned in closer inhaling through her lips. With a slight gap in his mouth, he 43
exhaled as she inhaled his breaths. She exhaled as he inhaled; their hearts start to race as the intensity rises. Literally breathing life into each other’s lungs! Abruptly, Liam said, “Follow me.” Liam jumped out the hammock then helped Savannah out. “Where are we going now?” She protested! They ran through the wood ending up back at the Gahenti camp. They ran down the porch fronts laughing, “Liam this is crazy why are we still running?” “Shh! You’ll wake the others!” He grabbed her hand and opened the door to his room. Her finger tips barely grasp the door to shut it behind her. He slams open the bathroom door; pulling her in by the hand. It’s dark inside. Seducing her nose was a strong smell of deep cedar wood, crisp cash money, warm spice, and pungent moss. “Why are we in the ba—” before she could finish, he pulled her close to him intensely kissing her. Gently lifting her chin up, he caressed her smooth face with his robust hands. His tongue massaged hers; swirling and vibrating like a stand mixer. He let her go. She was speechless. Passion warmed her up inside. She looked at him; he looked at her. Time seemed to stop. Liam turned her around kissing from her neck down to her back. Inevitably, his warm kisses created tantalizing tingles on the crest of her neck. His lips pressed softly against her neck. Sucking and licking her hot spot. His hand firmly gripping the front of her neck as he drew her head back. He watched in the mirror. His hands traced her body’s curves; from her waist down to her derrière. He squeezed softly. “Wait…Liam—” She blew out air. “—We can’t do this.” She opens the door and sits on his bed. “What’s that smell?” “My cologne, million.” “It’s so pungent and virile. I really, really like it…” She was hesitant to say; reluctant to add spice to the ready to bake soufflé. “You do.” He walks near her. 44
S.W. Hewett “Stay over there!” She abruptly yells out. His foot in the air in mid step. He keeps walking. “Weyni, you said we can’t do this. I’m not trying to make you feel uncomfortable. I respect your decision.” He sat down near her. Not too close though. “It’s our first full day here… plus I don’t date other chefs.” “I respect that. But why don’t you date chefs?” “You really do smell appetizing! I mean good.” She fans her face with her hand. “Is it hot in here to you? I think it’s getting quite hot… in here…” The room is dark. She stumbles over to the window. “What are you doing?” “Trying to open this window!” “You know there’s a thermostat on the wall? Flip it on. Here—“ He turns on the switch as a faint cool breeze blows over their bodies. “—Better?” He stood tall above her, she looks up into his eyes. She felt the intensity growing again. His eyes sparkled like the fireflies. “Yeah. So… thanks for taking me out to the arboretum, it was… magical!” “Sure… let me walk you out. Gotta make sure my country bumpkin gets back to her room safely.” “Seriously? I’m like four huts down. It’s not that far. I’m sure I’ll be alright. And don’t call me that.” “I insist country bumpkin.” He says as he opens the door. Swoosh! He grabs a hold of the door; his arm above her head. She smells crisp pine, mint, money; his arm pit over her, she could smell his deodorant radiating from the hot perspiration. It smells good to her. She likes his natural body scent, masculine, mixed with his million cologne enticing her senses. She looks up at him. “Let’s go,” he says. Her back’s against the door; she backs up until it shut. Never breaking eye contact with him. Slowly she turns around and places her hands above her head on 45
the door; arching her back like she’s under arrest. He walks up closer behind her. He touches her, her body shakes. “Huh!” she lets out a whimper of pleasure. He rubs her v-line; massaging it. He can feel warmth steaming from below; his fingers moving in circles. First, he slid off her pants, hugging her hips, he had to use some force to get them down. He left her panties on; they were lacey, sheer, and a light shade of pastel yellow. Next, he pulled her shirt over her head and caressed her supple breasts. “No. Don’t touch, don’t rush.” She whispered. “Sit on the bed.” She pulled his shirt over his head and threw it to the floor. Then, she unzipped his pants and yanked them off. His sticker is pointing north! She pushes him on the bed. He bounced up and down with the springs. Creek, creek! “Stare into my eyes,” she says. He did as she asked. For a minute or two they didn’t speak nor touch. She looks deep into his soul. “I want you to try something, but you have to trust me.” Weyni whispers in his ear. Using his hand, she steps onto the bed, towering above him; he looks up at her. She smiles. Using her right leg, she squats downward, wrapping her left leg around his abdomen. Agile, limber; he likes her moves. Following suit with her right leg, she wraps it around his waist. Straddling his waist, she inches as close to him as she can get and tightens her inner thighs. “You have three rules. I’ve given you the first one, maintain eye contact with me. Two, stay close to me and three… when I exhale you inhale.” Her voice sensual, smooth as hot caramel. He did what she asks of him. His excitement grew with each second. The anticipation was out of this world! Inches from his face, her lips slowly open, she blows out air as her pouty, maraschino lips pucker. He inhaled her air, she exhaled, he inhaled, she exhaled…sustaining one another’s life in that very moment. Passionate, controlled, long breaths. It took him a minute to get 46
S.W. Hewett the rhythm right. But when he did, they were in sync like the sun and the moon, ying and yang. This feeling of harmony is so intense. Inhale… exhale. Deep, long breaths as they gaze into one another’s eyes. He grips her waistline. Their bare bodies glistening from perspiration as the moonlight masks their skin. Bloods’ rushing, heart racing, temperature rising as the ritual continues. The tone is set for the deepest level of intimacy. Liam inhales Weyni’s air, leans in to kiss her soft, maraschino lips. She grasps his face, feeling their connection; deeply embellished. Lips lock, breathing intensified. He rolled her over on her stomach with ease. The view, oh the view; flawless. Her derrière is round, tanned the color of raw sugar, smooth, and voluptuous. He worships her booty; rubbing and squeezing it; right at the bottom of the cheek; where the crease of her cheek meets with her legs. He strokes between her inner thighs, gripping them firmly but gently. “Use this.” Weyni reaches into her bag and pulls out a small bottle of golden amber oil. “What is it?” “Baobab oil. You’ll like the benefits!” He kneels down slowly, kissing each cheek softly. Slowly, tender kisses are planted abundantly over the dimples on her lower back. Drip, drop, drizzle. He drips the oil over her derrière. The oil spreads across her warm buns like olive oil in a heated pan. He rubs the baobab oil over her backside. Gripping, gliding over her billow bum. “Feels good?” Liam caressed her juicy derrière. She nods yes with a sensual smile. His hands glide down her legs, absorbing the fronts and backs of her toned thighs. She titters. Sliding his hand over the peak of her round, plump booty to the arch of her back; he bends her over. He slid her panties to the right, rubbing her slippery lips. She is dripping with passion… He licks his fingers and moves them in a circular motion around her peak-a-boo! Next, he spreads her cheeks open from behind 47
as he slid his tongue in between her legs… Instantly her back arches, her toes curl. Tonight, she feels more than her heart beating; pulsating from below, she tightens up. “Ooh,” she moans out. He flips her over on her back, pulls his shirt over his head, “Time for a midnight snack!” She giggles. He kneels down, slowly kissing her inner thighs; her legs began to shake. He kisses and licks; his tongue vibrating on one hundred. Her body tightened up, she almost caught a cramp in her toes. “Relax, let me take over you. I want to taste your sweet cream.” “Liam…” She moans, her fingers scatter through his auburn hair as she squirms in the bed. He didn’t let up, she fidgets were his motivation. She places the pillow over her face; drowning out her screams of pleasure. Her Venus began to pulsate rapidly, she tightens and lets go. Thump. Thump. Thump. She feels her cake rising! It’s been a while, didn’t take much with the ritual added. She squirms, trying to scoot backwards. He’s not letting up! “Liam! Liam! I’m about to…” Sppppppliiiiiiissssshhhhh! Fountains of warm nectar streams from her Venus; pouring down her legs, sprinkling on his face. The bed was covered with her sweet juices. He moves back to examine her sweet nectar, his work; he kept rubbing his finger across her peekaboo as she squirts uncontrollably. Then…
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