Kwame Crashes the Underworld: Chapters 5–6

I scoff. “We can’t be dead, because we’re still here. There’s no such thing as an afterlife.”
“Neither of you are dead,” Ama replies. She looks hurried, though, and her eyes reflect impatience. “And there is definitely an afterlife. You’re standing in it now. I used to tell you, Kwame, that Asamando is for the abosom and the Nsamanfo. You’re two alive kids in the underworld…which means you’re misplaced.”

“Council of the Earth?” I ask, nearly running to keep up with her.
“A coalition of Queen Mothers of past generations. We work together to serve as ambassadors of the abosom to the rest of Asamando. Silly old me, thinking that my mission would end when I passed away. Now it’s crisis after crisis.”

Ama beckons us behind the desk so we’re out of view. She smooths her dress and takes a quick glance around. “Okay. This is my office—we’ll have you hole up here for now. Be quiet. Stay low. Don’t talk to anybody. Don’t open the door for anyone. And don’t leave.”

Autumn, Woo, and I turn to see a strange sight—a guy in a suit, with two trolls standing on either side of him.
Even though he looks like a teenager, the main guy is bald. His skin is as brown as the earth. His face is sunken, but his deep blue eyes glint with dark malice.

“Hey!” Autumn yells. She rushes forward, sword in hand. “Leave him alone!”
Tano glares at her. He cranes his head and notices her hearing aids. “Humans don’t get to speak in my presence. Especially deficient ones.”

Even though I’m not sure who this guy is, he’s starting to sound really familiar—just like all my Ghanaian relatives who look at me with that same kind of skepticism.

“I don’t know who you are,” I say through gritted teeth. “But I’m not your mother. I think I may have seen her, in a dream, but if that was her…then she’s dead. She, like, exploded. And I don’t think she’s coming back.”
A shadow falls over Tano’s face. He stands over me, seething, for what feels like forever.
“How dare you insinuate that my mother is dead.” Tano’s voice trembles.

“Whether you know it or not, you have the answers to my questions. The frequency of your sunsum is identical to Mother’s, albeit much more…diluted. You’ll explain this all. But first we’ll have to move to a more secure location so none of these pesky Queen Mothers get in my way.”

Tano’s thumb touches my forehead, and a current of cold shoots up my spine, like the world’s biggest ice pack has been applied directly to the bone. I draw in a sharp inhale, just as I’m subjected to the worst brain freeze I’ve ever experienced. My head pounds as pain trickles through the synapses of my mind.

Ama’s proverb echoes in my head. The children of the Earth shall perish. Whether by the banes of the sea, banes of the farm, or banes of the woods.

The voice comes from behind me. I hear footsteps, and I’m promptly graced with a reveal of Tano. I realize that all the statues are depictions of him—if he was taller, stronger, and generally cooler.

“Twelve years ago, the abosom were informed that my mother died—her essence dispersed throughout the planet. Everyone is crying and boo-hooing, but I tell them that you’re not gone. Maybe you were hiding, maybe you were resting, but you certainly weren’t gone.”

I frown. “And that’s the election you’re in?”
“Well, someone competent has to run.” Tano turns his nose up slightly. “I’m ahead in the polls too. Soon, I’ll be elected the new Queen Mother Earth.”

“You’re one of the abosom,” I say. Grandma used to tell me stories about this guy and all the shenanigans he used to pull to earn the respect of his family. “A minor god.”
Tano stiffens at the identification. He pushes off the desk and approaches me, an intrepid smile stretching across his face.
“Soon I won’t be so minor,” Tano growls, his grin turning menacing.

“You’re one of the abosom,” I say. Grandma used to tell me stories about this guy and all the shenanigans he used to pull to earn the respect of his family. “A minor god.”
Tano stiffens at the identification. He pushes off the desk and approaches me, an intrepid smile stretching across his face.
“Soon I won’t be so minor,” Tano growls, his grin turning menacing.

“Honestly, I should be calling you minor. You had an opportunity to have temples and religions honoring you and your name. Your power rivals that of Father’s, but are there any temples dedicated to you? Any hymns that sing about the greatness of Asase Yaa?”

“Enough of this!” Tano exclaims. Any semblance of patience has been washed away. His hand shoots out, grabs my own, and shows me my palm.

“You say you aren’t my mother,” Tano hisses, pressing a sharp finger into my palm pattern. His eyes are orbs of ice. “Then what is this?”
“I-it’s a birthmark,” I stammer. “A palm pattern. I’ve had it all my life. My grandmother told me it was an Adinkra symbol or something.”

Tano holds eye contact with me, and my thoughts falter. I see real pain in his eyes, almost as if he’s pleading with me to play along.
“You must be her.” Tano’s voice drops a few octaves. “Because…she told me that she’d never leave us.”

“I don’t have the time to deal with this. I have speeches to give. Plus, I’m sure these attacks won’t kill you.” Tano bounces up and down on his tiptoes. “They’ll just eviscerate your corporeal form and incapacitate you until I figure out what to do with you. Then, by the time you re-form, I’ll be the overseer of both Asamando and Earth.”

“I don’t have the time to deal with this. I have speeches to give. Plus, I’m sure these attacks won’t kill you.” Tano bounces up and down on his tiptoes. “They’ll just eviscerate your corporeal form and incapacitate you until I figure out what to do with you. Then, by the time you re-form, I’ll be the overseer of both Asamando and Earth.”

“I don’t have the time to deal with this. I have speeches to give. Plus, I’m sure these attacks won’t kill you.” Tano bounces up and down on his tiptoes. “They’ll just eviscerate your corporeal form and incapacitate you until I figure out what to do with you. Then, by the time you re-form, I’ll be the overseer of both Asamando and Earth.”

“I don’t have the time to deal with this. I have speeches to give. Plus, I’m sure these attacks won’t kill you.” Tano bounces up and down on his tiptoes. “They’ll just eviscerate your corporeal form and incapacitate you until I figure out what to do with you. Then, by the time you re-form, I’ll be the overseer of both Asamando and Earth.”

Then, for maybe the eighth time in my life, I have an idea.
“Tano, my son. You’re right. You’ve been right about everything,” I say, trying to make my voice sound as assertive as possible. “I was gone, but now I’m back. So let’s stop all the nonsense and just talk this out.”

“In the myths, Tano was always rebellious,” Autumn signs to me, her fingers barely in view. “But he always fell in line whenever Asase got tough on him. So get tough on him!”