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An Old Story or Why You Must Pay Attention, Child

Summary:

The origin tale of Wakanda, told from elder to child, as told in one of the 5 tribes.

Notes:

This was originally written to be in chapter 9 of Bloody Waters, but stands alone as a piece of canon-compliant mythology. It is double posted here with the blessing of that work's other co-author.

Beta by the fantastic BabaTunji.

If desired, here is a playlist to pair with the story.

(See the end of the work for more notes.)

Work Text:

In the beginning, there was a great trade route that spanned from the sea north of the continent to the southern tip. There were many trade routes crossing the continent every which way, but this one went through a very special place, the Abundant Valley. The Abundant Valley, nestled in the embrace of great forested mountains and around the coils of a mighty river, was mysterious and mystical, so much so that most of the great roving tribes of traders took detours to avoid that part of this great north-south highway. Still others who did not fear the land were eventually encouraged by those who lived there to traverse the continent by other paths. But one great trading tribe, a Conglomeration of trading clans, was not afraid, and was also gracious enough to win the toleration or even the amity of all the peoples whose lands they crossed as they passed through on their way from sea to sea.

These traders, having crossed every corner of the continent, eventually came to the opinion that the Abundant Valley was the most beautiful and fruitful place in the world. When times came that some region on the continent was dangerous to traders from wars or banditry, or barren to traders in some other way, the clans would bend or curtail their travels. When this happened, they travelled somewhat less to the north or to the south, but always they crossed the fertile place.

When the seasons turned unfavorable to travel, each clan of the Conglomeration would settle to winter until the roads opened again. When possible, any clan of the Conglomeration would seek to do their settling in the lush green of the Abundant Valley. Over time, as it rose in popularity as a looked-for wintering place among the clans, it became a regular reunion place for the entire Conglomeration. After generations of this, they came to see those lands as much their home as the wide open roads of their ancestors. And they came to see the other peoples of the Abundant Valley as their neighbors.

The traders of this Conglomeration made great exchanges with some of these peoples, to the benefit of all. One such exchange led to the migration of an artisan people from the north, who after abandoning their ancestral lands, heard of the lush forests and fertile ground from the traders, and followed the trails of the trade route in great migration to settle at last in that special place.

Eventually there came a time when the abundance of this Valley, and of the surrounding mountains and forests, riverlands and grasslands, gave rise to such ample numbers of their inhabitants that they all had to become more wary of each other, expanding their claims on territories in ways that could be mutually incompatible. Those tribes that were warlike became threats, and many peoples formed alliances in mutual defense. The Conglomeration of the clans realized they faced a choice: to commit to their claim on their now traditional settling places in the Abundant Valley, and remain there all year in great number to defend it, forsaking their long-travelling trading ways, or to abandon the Abundant Valley to the claims of others and consign themselves back to the lonely roads from whence they came.

As you know, children, the ancient clans held council where all could speak, and discussed it at great length, until finally it was decided to the satisfaction of all that the Conglomeration would stay. They settled for good and made alliances, and over time some of their alliances became unions, the beautiful merging and mixing of peoples down the centuries toward what we are today.

But at that time, deciding to stay and defend their territory, alliances were not enough to rebuff the threat of neighboring tribes. And so they fashioned spears and built their defenses and trained all their youth to fight, and thus made ready for war.

And war might have come, great and terrible war between any number of the peoples in or around this Abundant Valley, had not the Great Goddess Bast decided to make her own claim. The Great Panther Goddess was worshipped by our ancestors of the Conglomeration long before they settled in the Abundant Valley. Since making the Abundant Valley their collective wintering place generations before, they had erected shrines, temples, and monuments toward some few of their greatest patron deities, as well as the local gods of this beautiful place. By the time of the Great Settling many of the neighboring tribes had come to worship Bast as well, including those who were now bristling toward war with each other.

And this is how great our Glorious Bast is: Other gods had long been good to the oldest inhabitants of the Valley, and still other gods had been benevolent patrons of the trading clans in their ancient travels- we had been healed by Sehkmet and gifted with rains by Quzah and shown which trees to fell by Hanuman and which fields to till by Ishe, but at the brink of war none came forward to preserve us, all of us, but Glorious Bast. There were war gods, or gods of strength in arms, that this tribe or that tribe appealed to to preserve them and lay low their enemies, but the Wise and Compassionate Mother Bast wished to preserve us all, for She was worshipped by us all, and She loved us all, in our diversity.

So She did not allow us to go to war, to rend the soil and destroy our youth. Instead, She visited the warrior Bashenga, of another tribe, led him to the heart-shaped herb, and guided him to take it, creating the first Black Panther. As Her champion, Bashenga came forward and united the tribes of the Valley. Her work not done, Bast had Bashenga continue, to unite with us the tribes beyond the Valley- people up in the mountains and from the nearest corner of the grassy plains. In fact what She connected together were the parts of these disparate regions which held the influence of vibranium scattered from the meteorite which brought it millions of years ago. Bast, in Her wisdom, declared that any part of any region which bore the element would be Hers.

And so was founded the nation of Wakanda- whose peoples were united even as they remained distinct tribes with distinct territories. Over time these peoples and their cultures evolved toward the five tribes that remain today: River Tribe in the Valley’s floodplains and verdant fields, Border Tribe in the grassy plains, Mining tribe around the Great Mount, Jabari Tribe perched in the mountains, and us, Merchant Tribe, in the Valley’s foothills.

Before the tribes took the shape we know them in now, before Bast had even elevated Bashenga to unite us all, She had been included in the worship of all these peoples, among our varying pantheons.

The antecedents of these five tribes came to venerate Bast above all the other gods in their pantheons, and She continued to guide and guard us, as She does to this day.

She deigns who will become her champion as Black Panther. She singles out those she favors with Marks of Blessing, and sends visions to guide our priests and leaders. She inspires our most learned scholars to rise to the greatest heights of knowledge anywhere in the world. When our loved ones die, She and Sekhmet lead them to the green veldt where they join our ancestors.

As the Great Panther that She is, She is as fierce and dangerous as she is protective and benevolent. She has cursed those who displeased Her and warded off the ravages of plagues, famines, droughts, and outsiders all these long centuries.

It is for all these things and more that we honor Her with the Festival of Bast: for what She has done, for what She does now, and for what She — and we — will yet do. Thus are the three days of the Festival.

The first day is for what has gone before- we venerate Her for the forming of Wakanda, we celebrate the evolution and consecration of our Tribes, we honor our ancestors and all who have passed since the last Festival.

The second day we celebrate what is- we make offerings for any child born in the last year, we give thanks for present blessings in shows of great public works, and we honor the current king and Black Panther in observing the King’s Dance.

And finally, on the third day, we look to the future. We make offerings for those who are expecting and war dogs embarking on missions. We make supplications for future ventures and good health. Most importantly, we give glory to Bast for all Her guidance and renew our pledge as a people, one people, to venerate Her.

This is the purpose of the Sacred Affirmation, the last and most beloved part of the entire Festival. It is the moment where we say the words acknowledging Her, praising Her, and pledging our continued worship for the year ahead and for all time. This moment is the culmination of the entire Festival of Bast.

So on the third day of the Festival, surrounded by singing and dancing, the king will enter the Great Plaza of Bast, past statues of Her and Her divine consorts through the ages, monuments to Her greatest interventions, and memorials to our most celebrated Black Panthers and Bast-touched ancestors. Then, at the foot of the Divine Bast, the largest statue to Bast within the walls of any city, the king as Her chosen avatar will lead us in the ancient words, said in unison by every member of our kingdom.

And every single Wakandan joins, whether in attendance at the Plaza or watching gathered together somewhere else, or even alone. Even those who cannot stop working to attend a celebration will pause their duties for that moment to watch with their kimoyo beads and say the words together. Even war dogs stationed far from home, if they can, will slip off somewhere discreet to whisper the words in time with us. Every Wakandan learns the Sacred Affirmation by heart, even if we only say it once a year: so we can say it perfectly together.

As small children you said the words without understanding their full meaning, but now you are old enough to understand the gravity of it, so that you will mean what you say like all adults do. For we know it is a pledge to Bast, and a pledge to each other. It celebrates Bast, and celebrates our unity. It is a joyous declaration of our communal love for this land, for our history, and for each other.

Notes:

This was a small thing, but it still bears acknowledging that I am a white, American writer coming up with mythic descriptions of the historical origins of this fantastical African nation. As such, despite my research and best intentions, I'm sure there are problematic elements and unnoticed biases and stereotypes I have unwittingly worked into the story. Some elements I am aware of, but there are some I'm sure I'm not aware of. Also, I am undoubtedly influenced by my religious upbringing, as relaxed as it was, and in this case I embraced that in writing the fictional religion of Wakanda, but it's worth noting that it is very specifically not representative of any African religions or practices. If anything bumps on you please feel free to point it out. I'm doing my best, but I'm still learning.