The Rise of the Nebú

By Janis Frazier

In the late sixteenth century, during the height of the African slave trade, two young boys, Ahoto and Chicha Kojo of the Nebu’ tribe, were abducted and taken to America. To prevent future abductions, and to protect his village from invasions, King Rami summoned the Spirit Gods, who moved the village under the ground and hid them deep within the earth. An unknown illness, caused by toxic waste contaminates which had soaked into the ground from landfills on earth, overtakes one of the children, the grandson of the king, and threatens to take his life. The only thing that can save him is blood that contains the natural immunities found in people who live on the earth. The main criteria, however, is that the donner must be a descendant of the Nebu’ tribe. Thus begins the journey of two distant cousins, Kim and Quinton, as they are led by the Spirit Gods to the long-hidden village of the Nebu’ to provide healing blood to the young relative. The Rise of the Nebu’ takes its readers on a journey of danger, faith and courage, and most of all, love of family. It is through this union of the ancient and the new, the recognition of future harm from the modern world, and the desire to avoid extinction that the Nebu’, with the help of the Spirit Gods, must decide to rise to the surface of the earth. It is a journey that, in the end, will unite family from both within and on the surface of the earth -- a mystical family reunion.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Nov 27, 2021
• ISBN: 9781664198142

Janis Frazier

Janis F. Frazier is a retired English teacher and author of Got Something to Say, a book of poetry. Her love of realistic fantasy and seeing the lack of African American characters and themes inspired her to write her first novel, The Rise of the Nebu’-- a mystical family reunion. Originally from Montgomery, Alabama, she resides in Cincinnati, Ohio where she continues to write.

Book preview

The

Rise

of the

Nebú

Janis Frazier

Copyright © 2021 by Janis Frazier.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.

Rev. date: 11/26/2021

Xlibris

844-714-8691

www.Xlibris.com

836824

CONTENTS

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

The Author

Kim’s Genealogy

Chicha Kojo

Sold to Francoise DuParc

Renamed Charles Kojo DuParc

Quinton’s Genealogy

Ahoto Kojo

Sold to Eduard Sellars

Renamed Alton Koho Sellars

CHAPTER ONE

K im sat down slowly on the tufted, leather sofa. The room was quiet. The only sounds she heard were those of her own thoughts, and right now they were screaming in her head.

Her body felt numb. A lump of heaviness kept rising up in her bosom. Tears peaked slowly to the edges of her eyes. She wanted to wipe them away, but the tissues were in the bathroom, and she just didn’t feel like getting up. In fact, she didn’t feel like doing anything but sitting there.

As she gazed around the curtain-drawn room, she looked for evidence of him. There was none. Good. Kim didn’t want to see anything that would remind her of Rob. She wanted to erase him from her mind, but she couldn’t.

She couldn’t forget the last time she saw him, thirty minutes ago. The look on his face. Divorce court. Fifteen years of marriage down the drain. And there he sat with his lover right behind him, with that ugly smirk on his face.

On the way out of the courtroom, he had finally spoken to her, if you call that speaking.

I’m sorry, Kim, was all that had come out of his mouth.

I’m sorry! For messing up my life? Kim thought.

Sure, there had been problems in the marriage. What couple doesn’t have problems? But I thought we were supposed to work through them. At least I thought that’s what it meant when it said, ‘for better or worse’.

Her head began to hurt. The tears blurred her vision, and slowly, large drops started to fall into her lap. She pictured the scene she had just left. Rob and his new woman, glancing affectionately at each other in the courtroom. It was bad enough that she had to lose her man, but to a white woman! The humiliation hurt much more than the divorce.

She glanced over at the clock on the television. Five o’clock. She felt as if she’d been sitting there for hours.

Well, I’m not going to sit here and wallow in self-pity, she thought.

Several months earlier, anticipating the worse, Kim had made some plans. Getting used to living on one salary took some adjusting, but she was determined not to give up anything she had gained through the marriage. The children were in private school and there they would stay! The car, the house – they were hers. She’d earned them. She’d worked for them. Being a teacher, a good wife and mother was no piece of cake; so the large, monthly alimony check will give her a little peace of mind. Let Rob have his white woman. She, Kimberly LeNoir, was going to live!

She wiped her eyes. This is the absolute last tear I’m going to cry, she said, getting to her feet. She surveyed the living room.

It was painted in a deep green color with white trim. Kim always liked green. She and Rob had selected the color together. He said it reminded him of money.

She walked over to the fireplace. It had been a while since she’d lit it. In fact, it had been a while since she’d done much of anything except take care of the girls.

The girls. They’d be home soon. They were really a blessing. Kim didn’t even want to think about how she’d have gotten along without them.

Wendolyn, seven, so bubbly and bouncy. Always talking, without a hateful bone in her body. She was their first, the spitting image of her father. She even had his personality, but that wasn’t a negative.

Akilah was two years younger. Five going on 20. Both of them were her pride and joy.

The numbness was beginning to leave. She didn’t know why she was feeling this way. The marriage had been over for at least a year now. They had both agreed that it wasn’t going to work. She and Rob were on two different roads. She headed for the bedroom to change clothes. It was time to start dinner, and besides, she had a lot of thinking to do. Rob’s alimony wasn’t going to cover all of her needs.

The girls will want to know what happened today, she said, moving about the room. I can’t let them see me sad. We’ll have a good dinner, do homework, play a game and then go to bed. It’s a good thing that school is almost finished. I’m definitely not in the mood for lesson plans and needy kids.

The next morning, Kim awoke to the sounds of Usher. The words made her think of Rob. She started to scream out, Shut that music off! but she stopped herself. No need to upset the girls. They were adjusting well to his absence, and she didn’t want to stir things up.

She made her way to the bathroom and stared at her reflection in the mirror. She was still pretty, she assessed. Standing five feet nine with golden brown skin and gray eyes, she was still pretty. The years had been good to her. Her thick, wavy hair had long before been cut into a chic new style. She worked out three days a week, so her body was tight. No, there was nothing wrong with her. Nothing, she reasoned, that a trip to the mall wouldn’t fix. She decided to go shopping. Shopping always made her feel better.

The phone rang. Hello, she said, slightly disguising her voice. She had had enough of nosey friends.

Hi, Kim. How are you, girl? the familiar voice on the line said. It was Gaila, Kim’s best friend.

How did it go yesterday?

Not so bad, Kim said, wishing she hadn’t been interrupted. She loved Gaila. She was her ace boon, but today she wasn’t in the mood to be cheery. In fact, much better than I had expected. Why, what’s going on?"

Nothing, Gaila said. I just thought you could use a little cheering up.

Gaila, I really –

Unh, unh girl, she interrupted. You’re not pulling that one. Get your clothes on. I’ll be by in thirty minutes. I’ve got somewhere for you to be.

She hung up before Kim could protest. Anyway, Kim knew it was useless to debate with Gaila. She called her mother-in-law to pick up the girls and finished dressing. Just as she put her shoes on, the doorbell rang.

Gaila was fly as usual in her purple and gold pants suit. She was very pretty with dark, ebony skin and shiny white teeth. Her full lips were always painted red, the same color as her nails. Gaila stood six feet even and Kim always envied her height. They were both very attractive, but Kim felt Gaila always caught the eyes of the guys.

They drove toward Kenneston, through a predominately black area, enroute to the mall. Crowds of people, old and young, had gathered around the Martin Luther King monument.

Darn it, I forgot, Kim exclaimed.

Forgot what? asked Gaila.

I forgot they were having this march today. Girl, it’s wall-to–wall Negroes out here!

You’re right, Gaila said, looking at the enormous crown of her brothers and sisters. You want to go around them?

No, said Kim. Her eyes were glued to the scene. She couldn’t remember the last time she had participated in a civil rights’ march. Too busy with my own life, I guess, she thought.

Gaila, stop the car! she yelled excited. I want to know what’s going on.

I didn’t know you were interested in this kind of stuff, Gaila said. "There’s something going on here all the time. That’s why I drove through here. I thought you’d like to see some real problems."

She pulled the car to the curb and parked.

Is it okay to park here? Kim asked, looking at the run-down buildings and guys hanging around. Gaila’s black Porshe didn’t have a scratch on it, and she didn’t want to be the cause of it getting one now.

Yeah, it’s okay, said Gaila. They know me. I come here all the time.

Here? You? Kim was looking at Gaila with astonishment. Miss Buppy 2013?

Girl, there’s still some things you don’t know about me. I was raised in L.A. Protesting is in my blood!

They walked toward the front of the crowd. A distinguished-looking man, looking to be in his early forties, was speaking to the crowd of predominately young men. He held up a newspaper as he spoke.

This paper says that you are at risk, that there is an epidemic flowing through our young, black males. People are wondering what to do with you. Some cities have even built new schools just to educate black boys in because you’re flunking out in the regular schools. Everybody seems to concerned about you, but you!

Kim looked at the faces of the guys as they listened intently to the speaker. They looked hopeless. Kim knew that the eloquent words were falling on deaf ears. She felt that as soon as the speech was over and the crowd dispersed, life for these boys would be business as usual.

I want to meet him, she said to Gaila as they were standing near the podium. I want to hear what solutions he has to the situation. Or, if he’s just mouthing off to get his name in the news."

Oh, Quinton is pretty cool, said Gaila. We were in grad school together. He was one of the campus leaders then. You could always find him talking to a group about something or other.

Well, Kim replied, was he as smart as he is handsome?

So that’s it, said Gaila, grinning at Kim. And I thought you were interested in his words.

I am. Kim smiled slyly. But what are words without a body?

Quinton Leon stood out among the crowd. He was tall and slim, about six feet four with broad shoulders. He had salt and pepper hair that curled softly at the nape. His ash-gray eyes were shielded by long, black lashes under black brows. The deep baritone in his voice seemed to reverberate through the crowd as he spoke. He was obviously used to holding people’s attention, and Kim found him both handsome and interesting.

Yes, she thought. This is somebody worth knowing.

Come on. I’ll introduce you, said Gaila as Quinton finished shaking hands in the crowd.

As he walked toward them, Quinton noticed Kim’s long, slender legs.

Nice, he said to himself.

Hi, I’m Quinton Sellars, Quinton said, extending his hand.

Hello, I’m Kimberly LeNoir, said Kim, looking up into his deep eyes, but you can call me Kim.

Kim’s my best friend, Quinton, injected Gaila. She wanted to stop and hear what you were saying. You’ve really got them going."

Well, I hope you understood what I was saying, he said, looking at Kim. We have a big problem over here with our teens, especially our boys."

I know. It’s a nation-wide problem, said Kim. Exactly what is your goal?"

Quinton is one of our local celebrities, Gaila said. He’s responsible for at least five youth organizations, including our Teen Center and H.U.M. – the House for Unwed Mothers. He could really do a lot more if he had more help.

Sounds heavy, said Kim. I work with youth myself. Teaching high school is no piece of cake!"

So, you’re a School Marm? Quinton chided. "What subject?’

English, although the kids don’t seem to talk any better – but anyway, it’s nice meeting you, Kim replied, trying to get off the jobs topic. They could discuss her job another time. Right now she just wanted to know him.

Seeming to take the hint, Quinton smiled. Maybe we can sit down and discuss strategies sometime. In fact, tomorrow’s Saturday. What are you doing for lunch?

"I’m not sure. Maybe tomorrow’s not—

Kim’s fresh out of divorce court. Gaila injected as Kim fumbled for words. She’s got two lovely kids whom I’ve long promised a trip to the zoo – if that helps anybody, she continued, slightly nudging Kim.

Well, said Kim. It looks like I’m free after all. I’m at 30 Park Place. Is one o’clock okay?

One is fine, Quinton lied, still smiling. I’ll see you then. He backed away and waved goodbye.

The mall was refreshing as usual. Kim hadn’t paid any attention to the new styles before and was excited to see all the new summer colors. She picked out a few outfits and three pairs of shoes before calling it quits.

Am I crazy? Quinton thought, strolling through the hallway of his large river-view condominium. A married woman! No, an ex-married woman—with children! And what about Delores? I told her I’d take her to a matinee at two. Why didn’t I insist on 12 o’clock with Kim? Why did I ask her out in the first place? Darn it if I don’t get myself in the biggest jams!

What did I see in her anyway? She was pretty, but it was more than that. The eyes. Something behind those eyes. Just drew me right in. Real strange. Anyway, I’d better call Delores, cancel and get a rain check.

He moved toward the lush, leather sofa with the over-sized ottoman. His home was designed for comfort. Of all the places he’d rather be, this was it. Everything in it had been selected by him over a period of years and now came together in complete harmony. He liked to entertain but relished most times like this, just for himself.

For the past eight years Quinton Leon Sellars had worked twelve-hour days to rise to his position in one of Cincinnati, Ohio’s top engineering firms. His extra time was spent speaking out against injustices perpetrated against young African-American males. He was a frequent speaker at high schools throughout the tri-state and was always on the program for public rallies and black-history activities.

Quinton had lived in Cincinnati all his life. Both of his parents were born in Mississippi, where they completed high school and college and later married. The lack of job opportunities made out-of-state job searches a must. When he was three, the family (which would later include two boys and a girl) moved to Cincinnati, where his father got a job at the General Electric plant in Woodlawn. His mom found employment with Delta Airlines, which allowed the whole family to travel all over the world. This early degree in sophistication, together with his natural brilliance, handsomeness and charm made Quinton a very desirable and much sought-after bachelor. Though he usually reserved weekends for dating, marriage was clearly not on his mind.

He placed the glass of ice tea on the coaster on the table next to the sofa, sank down into its softness and put his feet up on the ottoman. I just need to think, he said quietly. What was it about her? I’ve dated hundreds of beautiful women: light-skinned, dark-skinned, red bone; short hair, long hair, no hair; eyes of all shades. What is it about Kim? Her eyes? It was like they were drawing me in. I’ve got to see her again. I feel compelled, but why? I’ve got to find out.

He called Delores, a friend he often hung out with for special artistic ventures, and cancelled. They were true friends, and he liked that. He didn’t have to worry about her bothering him about dates and marriage. She wasn’t looking for a husband.

He began to think about tomorrow; his date with Kim. Where can I take her? he said out loud. We need to be where we can talk, but somewhere not too romantic. I don’t want to give the wrong message. Plus, a new relationship is probably the last thing she needs. She needs to heal. A divorce has got to leave scars. I also don’t want to get my nose open. Heartache is definitely not on my agenda!

He sipped his tea and flipped on the t v. "Good. Meet the Browns. A comedy. Something to relax my mind," he said, sinking deeper into the plush softness. He lay his head back and relaxed.

CHAPTER TWO

A round ten o’clock the next morning, Kim’s doorbell rang. Wendolyn and Akilah ran to the door, each trying to be the first to greet Gaila. They loved Gaila. She was pretty and fun and always took them to cool places. Today they were going to the Omnimax and then out to lunch.

I got it! yelled Akilah, reaching toward the doorknob.

No, I got it! Wendolyn screeched as she scurried past. They both opened the door at the same time and stood with big wide grins as Gaila entered.

How’re my girls! she said, hugging each one. Are we ready for a ladies’ day out?

Yes! they both screamed simultaneously.

Where’s your Mom? Gaila asked, looking around.

Kim entered, rollers still in her hair. She was pretty even without make up. You sure you’re ready for both of them? she said, laughing as she watched the girls vie for Gaila’s attention. They’re a handful.

Oh, I’ve got this, Gaila replied with a grin. I’m going to spoil them rotten, then bring them back to you."

"Yeah, and it’ll take me weeks to undo all the damage. They already act like two prima donnas from the last time they were with you, but I don’t care. I’m glad you’re in their lives. I wouldn’t have it any other way."

What time is your date?" Gaila asked, smiling.

One o’clock, Kim responded. We’re eatting at Bronte’s. I figure we can browse through the bookstore while we’re there. It’ll help me to see what his interests are.

Besides you, you mean, said Gaila. Well, I’ll see if that’s true or if the invite was merely on impulse. Kim replied. I don’t even know if I’m ready for this. It may be too soon. Anyway, you and the girls have a wonderful time, and I’ll fill you in when you get back.

Okay, girls, let’s get out of here so your mama can get dressed, Gaila said as she moved the girls toward the door. We’ll see you later, Kim.

Bye, Mama, the girls yelled, moving toward the car.

Have fun! she called back.

She went into her bedroom and finished dressing. Just as she was spraying on her perfume, the doorbell rang. Five minutes early, she whispered, looking at the clock. Very prompt.

The evening started off to a good start. Quinton arrived casually dressed in navy slacks and a gray sports coat, no tie, which nicely complemented the soft, turquoise sleeveless top and skirt set Kim had chosen. His Chrysler 200 showed her that he liked style, but more classic than flashy.

Quinton also appreciated Kim’s look. He was used to ladies who tried to dress to impress. They were obvious. Kim was different. Her look reflected a classiness of ladies who were trained in the art of dressing by their mothers or the women in the family, style versus trend.

They went to Bronte’s, located in the Joseph Beth’s bookstore in Norwood. This was one of Kim’s favorite places. She loved to browse through the books, and they had a large music collection as well. Bronte’s was the perfect place for a light meal, dessert, and even a glass of wine. Kim decided today she would have all three.

Quinton was familiar with the place. He often went there to check out the latest jazz albums. Would you like to check out the books first? he asked as he led her through the entrance.

Yes. One of my students gave me the name of a book by Veronica Roth, and I’d like to see if it’s here.

"Do you always take book suggestions from your students?’

Yes, even if I don’t get a chance to buy them. They read a lot and often know all about specific authors and their books. Even though I teach literature, I can’t read all the books that come out. If the books they recommend are of the genres I prefer, I check them out.

What kind of books do you like?

Well, there are books I like to read for pleasure and fantasy, those that take me places, into new worlds. Then, I like the ones that give me knowledge and history about people, especially my people, my religion and myself. And there are others I collect for various reasons. I have a library at home of all kinds of books. Some I’ve yet to read and some antique ones I just had to own.

So, you’re really a collector, a connoisseur? Quinton said, smiling.

On a very small scale. What about you?

Well, I’m a bit of a radical. I read a lot of black history books, especially those that focus on the black male. I collect newspaper clippings on social and racial injustice, so I can help young brothers understand the world around them and how to live in it.

Kim observed him with interest. I have a whole book shelf dedicated to just what you’re talking about. Being raised in the south, black history is in my blood; so I guess we have something in common.

They walked slowly among the shelves. Quinton looked up at the signs. Let’s see what’s new in the African-American books’ section, he said guiding Kim. I found a good one on teenage boys a couple of weeks ago. It was interesting, but it didn’t tell me anything I didn’t already know."

They walked along the aisle gradually fingering the books. As Quinton neared the books on slavery, he began to get an uneasy feeling. He read some of the titles out loud. "Plantation Narratives, Mississippi Hauntings, Louisiana Plantations." Suddenly he felt a sharp pain in his side. Aw! He said, grabbing his side.

What’s the matter? Kim said, moving closer.

I don’t know, he answered. I was looking at these books, and I got a pain in my side. It’s gone now, but it was really strange. It’s never happened before."

Well, I guess that was our hint to leave and go into the restaurant, Kim suggested.

As they moved toward the restaurant, Quinton began to muse about what had just happened. Pains were rare for him. He worked out regularly and stayed away from junk food. He decided to let it pass.

They settled down at a table on the upper level. The waitress arrived quickly to take their orders. Kim always enjoyed the chicken salad on the croissant roll. It was full of calories, but she wanted more than a garden salad. Quinton ordered fish and a salad. They both had a glass of wine, which relaxed them and made it easier to talk.

Tell me about yourself, Quinton said, as the eating began to wane. He didn’t want to try to talk with their mouths full.

What do you want to know? My life has many phases.

Well, let’s start with your childhood and family.

All right, Kim said. "Let’s see. I was born and raised in Montgomery, Alabama. My parents were educators, and we lived on the campus of the local black college, known then as Alabama State College. I have three brothers and no sisters. My mother was from north Alabama, but her roots go all the way to Virginia and Louisiana. My father was from a small town in west Alabama with roots in Louisiana. Both of my parents are from the rural and worked very hard to