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‘If you do not stop you are going to make yourself sick.’ Najire said as she washed her face in the basin.
Dembe, currently doing sit-ups next to the mat they’d laid out for her to sleep on slowly rose to a stop.
‘Just yesterday you said I should push myself harder!’ Dembe hadn’t done enough sit-ups to quiet the racing thoughts in her head, but Najire would complain if she made the room stink of sweat anyway.
‘That was during our morning workout, under the supervision of my father. Not while I’m trying to get ready for bed.’
‘I’m just trying to prepare myself for training. The Dora training is brutal.’
‘And so you think the solution is to show up exhausted and sore from overextending yourself? Fascinating.’ With a flick of her wrist Najire threw aside her face towel and moved over to sit on her bed.
As was the case with all of their sleepovers, Dembe was spending the last night before training in Najire’s room. She had been packing all week under the strict supervision of her mother who had been given the two weeks before they left off work in order to spend this remaining time with her daughter. This last night spent with Najire was the first time she had been out of her mother’s sight since then. They had even slept in the same bed together again like they had when they had first moved to this village.
When Najire and Dembe had been selected for the Dora Milaje training their families had been overjoyed. Najire’s family, quite wealthy among the River clan, had thrown a feast for both girls that had lasted 4 days. The family had served a different type of meat each day- in order to show off their wealth and generosity, Najire had explained to Dembe- and invited everyone in their village. Dembe had been slightly surprised that she and her mother had been included in the festivities. If she was being completely honest, she had always assumed that Najire’s father had disliked her. Granted, Najire had always insisted that his stoic behaviour was more a result of a natural inclination towards brevity and directness. Certainly, he had never allowed Najire to stay the night with Dembe and her mother.
Dembe’s mother had never been particularly popular in the village, having left her husband in the Lion clan when Dembe had been two years old and returning home to her family’s homestead in the River clan. Their home on the edge of her mother’s family compound was comfortable but small and disconnected from her uncle’s main house.
‘You’re not still overthinking this, are you?’
Najire was patiently braiding her hair into her sleep plaits on the large circular bed in the middle of the room. Since they had received word from the palace she had been trying her hair in a new style almost every day. Dembe felt slightly sad that she would no longer be able to tell her friend from behind by the long tendrils of kinky hair spanning around her head like a lion’s mane.
Some Dora Milaje, they were both well aware, never shaved their heads. It was a completely voluntary tradition. They were also aware, however, that these women were usually abiding by the traditions of their own clans, and the River clan had no such practice. On the other hand, Dembe was absolutely sure that even if someone gave Najire the option to keep her hair she would shave it off herself.
‘I’m not overthinking this, the training for the Dora is notoriously hard.’
‘You’re good enough. We wouldn’t be friends if you weren’t’
Najire despised the coddling of both others and herself. She responded to coddling as if the person who had done so was personally insulting her grandmother. Once when she was younger and had first joined their class one of the teachers, a severe woman who had never once in their 5 years in that school said a kind word to Dembe, had offered to allow Najire to skip the first few days of physical activity class until she got used to not being homeschooled.
Najire had responded to this by showing up to the physical activity class of every section in the year above and absolutely dominating any and all activities. She was a force of nature and also deeply unpopular. And she expected just as much from her friends as she did from herself. A high bar to clear.
Dembe knew this in her mind but her rolling stomach was another matter altogether. After the initial rush of being selected for training had faded it had been replaced by a steadily growing nausea. One that had prevented her from sleeping properly all week, despite her mother’s teas and remedies.
Dembe was honored, but being part of the Dora had never been her dream in the way that it was Najire’s. Her biggest dream growing up in the corner of her family’s compound had been to make a friend other than her quiet mother.
Ignored and rejected by the other girls at school she had instead spent most of her time running messages across town for her numerous relatives. As a result she had been the fastest sprinter in their class. It had drawn Najire to her. The little girl from the wealthy family who was so used to being the best in everything she tried.
Najire had tried for months to instigate some kind of rivalry with Dembe. Eventually she had come to the realization that being Dembe’s friend would net her both the competition that she wanted, and a girl from class to present to her grandfather when he asked her anxiously about making friends. Dembe, mostly bemused, had simply been swept along by Najire’s plans. A running theme in their friendship.
Najire, now finished with her hair, huffed puffily on the bed. Dembe, realizing that she had been ignoring her friend while lost in thought, turned to give her undivided attention.
‘Come on, if you are going to spend all night on the matter, then I know someone who you can talk to.’ Najire said, sounding put upon as she hopped off the bed and moved to the door. ‘Leave your sandals, we don’t want my family to hear.’
Dembe rose obediently and followed her friend.
Najire’s family compound was a large parcel of land overlooking the fertile land of the river’s banks. Her family tended to the crops that grew in the dark loamy soil and grazed their cattle on the grass across the river. Several other families had their own farm land on the banks and the family’s that couldn’t afford it, such as Dembe and her mother often traded for food by working during harvest time or tending to a rented parcel of land together.
The compound had seven huts, five of which were for family use and two for the servants. Six of them were arranged in a circle around the largest house, which was where the head of the family, Najie’s father lived. The main house was rectangular and contained several rooms connected by a long central corridor. Najire’s room was the furthest bedroom, followed on this side of the hall by her parent’s room and the guest bedroom. On the other side of the hall was her grandmother’s room as well as the family sitting room and the kitchen. At the end of the corridor was a small circular room where guest could remove their shoes and outside attire and servant’s often sat when they were taking their breaks, assuming they were not in the kitchen.
Najire’s grandmother, Jendyose, had been the only River tribe woman selected to the Dora Milaje in the 50+ years before her granddaughter and her friend had been selected. As the daughter of a wealthy family she had been expected to marry well and live comfortably but she had always been a hardy, headstrong child ill-suited for the life of a housewife. When she had been selected a boy in her class who had often brought her flowers and wrote her poetry had asked her to refuse the position and become his wife instead. Jendyose could not remember now either what his name had been or what she had said to him in response, but she did remember the lecture she had received from her mother when the boy’s parents had come to complain about her rudeness.
Her grandmother usually slept earlier than the rest of the family but when they knocked on her door they were told to enter immediately. Najire had inherited her grandmother’s tall, lithe figure as well as her bad temperment. Jendyose sat cross legged on the large bed in the center of the room and gestured for the two of them to sit on a mat at the foor of the bed. She had chosen to keep shaving her head even after her retirement from the Dora, primarily, she often told Najire, because it showed of her excellent headshape. She wore a loose sleeping dress that floated down to cover her stiff posture.
‘I assumed the two of you might want to talk before you leave tomorrow,’ she said once they were comfortable seated.
‘Dembe is being silly and fretting about whether she’ll be suited to the Dora training.’ Najire said scornfully, ‘Can you tell her to stop so we can go to sleep?’
‘You’re not being silly Dembe.’ Her grandmother said simply.
‘But we were chosen! We are the first girls to be chosen from this village since you were picked.’ Najire said impatiently
‘Being chosen for the Dora training is a great honor and an acknowledgement of the work that both of you have done so far. However, you will be training with hundreds of other women and more than half of you are going to wash out before the year is out.’
Jendyose spoke the words off-handedly, her face as placid as if they were discussing the weather. Dembe found that somehow this was more comforting that Najire’s insistence that they had nothing to worry about. Najire believed in her but she did it in the same implacable way she believed in herself. It could be smothering trying to achieve her standards. Najire on the other hand, looked like her grandmother had slapped her.
‘You don’t think I’m good enough to be a Dora?’ Najire never whined. She felt it beneath her. So instead her voice now was quiet, deadly serious.
‘That is not for me to determine my dear. We have worked hard together to prepare you. You are a good student and a remarkable athlete. But being a Dora is the ultimate commitment, a complete devotion to not only the Royal family of Wakanda but the entire nation. It is a high honor but it also a high burden.’
Najire was obvioulsy disatisfied with this answer but she said nothing else. Instead she stood and crossing to her Jendyose’s side she kissed her on the cheek and left the bedroom, walking swiftly.
Dembe stood quickly to go after her friend, bowing respectfully before she left.
‘Dembe.’ Jendyose said quietly, catching her almost out of the room. Dembe turned to give her full attention.
‘My granddaugther is going to realize very quickly that there are somethings that cannot be changed, by money or training or even will. You have been a good friend to her but if over the course of the next year she lashes out at you, it is not your duty as her friend to let her hurt you so that she feels better.’
Dembe was struck silent. She searched for an answer to the woman’s statement but was waved away before she could think of anything. Dropping to her knees she excused herself and hurried Najire, thoughts whirling. Najire’s plan to comfort her had ended up unsettling them both.