The Inner Struggle
Shaka”s fists balled and he whirled around to leave. No way was he going to learn from this.. this…oban! But he wouldn’t hurt the man.. not in front of his wife. He wasn’t that lowly.
“Wait.” He heard the man call out. “Did you not come here for a reason?”
He stopped and glared over his shoulders at the man, spying also the Janarim sauntering around the house’s corner towards them.
“Why’re ye even here?” He growled, ignoring the man’s question. He wanted to charge, wanted to beat the man into a pulp, but that Janarim that was there… maybe he could have beaten the man... but he knew he was no match for a Janarim.
“Because the love of my life wished to live in her homeland.” The oban, Makhaya he remembered the old fisherman had said, said in a weary tone; he had been through this a lot. “And because I was about ready to retire from helping my nomad family from capturing Janarim. Why are you here?” He returned the question.
Mynshaka turned and left without answering. Why was he even bothering talking with this man? He didn’t see the man shake his head regretfully, didn’t see the sad expression on his wife’s face as she also watched him stalk off. His anger kept him from seeing anything but what it wanted him too; an oban in his homeland. An oban who shouldn’t be here.
He arrived back at his camp to see Oltia friskily playing with his Alol… who had been sleeping the entire trip here, vanishing and reappearing at random times from the jungle.
He growled and punched a tree nearby. Why? Why did it have to be an oban? Anyone else! Anything but that! He would not call any oban teacher… would never call them master again!
Bumi chirped, one of the few noises the quiet bushi ever made and nudged Mynshaka’s broad back.
“Obans! Here! And married.” He growled and punched the tree again, ignoring his animals who looked at him worriedly.
“What woman would even want to be with them? Willingly?” To him the obans were evil; cruel masters who arrogantly thought that everything was a toy or tool to claim. The thought that one f his own kind, one who had been seen as lesser, as furniture or tools for the obans to use at their pleasure or break at their whim, would willingly be with an oban, marry and have his kid, baffled him. Surely that man was a spy for the obans—keeping an eye on the freed slaves and passing information along.. He snorted and sat down, resting his head against the tree he’d been punching.
“Stupid…” That idea was stupid…as was the feeling of disappointment. He’d come all this way in hopes of finding a teacher only to be disappointed! All that trouble, all that hope… stomped on.
Did you not come here for a reason? Why were you here? The man’s questions whispered in the back of his mind.
“To learn… ” He whispered.
“And Ah kinna! Not from that filthy slavemaster!” He whispered hotly to himself, hands scratching the dirt as he clenched them into fists. Was he to fail just like that?
“Ah won’t fail... Ah will become a Rider!” But how? He was failing as he stumbled along by himself! He’d already tried everything he could think of and Oltia was just not learning!
“Filthy slavemaster is rather rude.” A wry voice to the side made him start. Mynshaka bounded to his feet, turning to glare at the oban who’d followed him. “Did I ever say I was a slave master? I’ll have you know my clan never kept them.”
Bumi hissed at the man as Oltia hid behind the bushi, startled by the sudden appearance.
Mynshaka did not see the Janarim about but something made him stop from attacking. Perhaps it was the confidence; despite being unarmed the fire earthling held himself confidently.. but there wasn’t any of the arrogance that Mynshaka was used to seeing in Obans. No sneers wither, and the man’s eyes did not hold the contempt he’d always seen. Instead, he saw only sadness. Perhaps it was that sense of sadness that made him stop and take a deep breath, struggling to push through his anger.
“You never did answer my question.. but seeing your companions here… I can guess why.” Makhaya leaned against a tree, crossing his arms. “Would you like to restart? My wife cries every time a Matorian comes and tries to fight me. Their words always hurt her more than me. I would prefer this not end like that… give her something to smile about instead.”
Wife. This man was calling her a wife… not lover, not slave, not just any woman.. but wife. Mynshaka took a deep breath, pushing aside his anger; something he rarely did. As a slave that anger had sustained him, had kept him going, so he’d never tried to control it.
“Ye…ye call her a wife… ““Mm-hmm. Fell in love with her singing when I was trading some Janarim to a noble… Then I saw the noble try to beat her so I stole her away. We never did manage to sell Janarim there again.” His voice was amused. “And no… I did not force her to marry me or anything like that. I courted her until she said yes. Proper courting too.”
“Why? Yer kind dinna see mine as people.. jest things. Tools, slaves.” Makhaya sighed and shook his head; “Are all of your people the same? Because I know mine aren’t. Not that I blame you for thinking of obans as all cruel monsters; a life of a slave is painful and my people have never been kind to yours. But not all of us are like that. You will find slave owners who treated their laves as people, which is why some Matorians staid in Oba. You will find Obans who hate slavery. You will find Obans who wanted to abolish it for a long time.” He held up a hand as Mynshaka tried to argue. “Don’t argue with me on this. I can tell from the scars peeking out of your shirt that you did not have one of these masters. Your muscles also point at heavy labor; and almost all of those owners were not kind. Wait until you are older lad, then go see the world and then come back to argue with me if you find it differently.”
Mynshaka was quit a bit, his hands clenching and unclenching; it made sense... and perhaps he had a point. But all of Mynshaka's life told him differently. Makhaya waited for him to think.
“Ye asked why Ah came... Ah want to learn to be a Rider. Ah’ve no luck in training Oltia on mah own.” He said quietly, not addressing the situation just yet; he needed time to think.
“So—”
Shaka shook his head, his pony tail flipping.
“Lemme think.. Ah am not sure Ah want to learn from ye.”“If you do wish to learn from me... than I am willing to teach.” Came the soft answer before Makhaya left.
He waited until the man left before turning to punch the tree yet again, his broad knuckles starting to ache from the abuse. This was not how things were supposed to be! Obans were disgusting, hateful, cruel, miserly bastards who saw his people as lesser beings, bugs to be stepped on or slaves to be abused and used! Not men who saved women from cruel masters. Not men who left their homelands to be with said woman in her homeland. Not men with sad eyes that understood!
He bashed his head against the tree. Growling to himself; why did that man have to be honest? Not act like a cruel slave owner? To speak to Shaka as a person, as an equal?
Don’t lose yourself to hate, boy. He heard his father’s word again; words he heard often enough when he got into one of his rages.
Don’t let it blind you to the good that is there. He sighed and looked at Bumi and Oltia who were watching him; maybe his father was right... at least about this one person.
He still did not like obans; what they had done was wrong! But… maybe he was letting his hatred control him… He could do this... besides, his animals needed him to do so, he needed to do so if he was ever to become a Rider.
“Ah’ll do it… were else will Ah find a teacher? And.. Is not like he is.. like the ones that beat me.” He said softly as he reached out to rub Bumi’s head. He could do this… he could.
((words: 1465))
OOC 
