[Slokais]

The land of Kolda had existed for tens of thousands of years, from when the first humans walked the Koldan plain in search of water to the great cities of the Golden Age. The land watched. The land watched as ships as tall as mountains landed on the coast, first building a port, then enslaving the people of the interior. The land watched as Kolda was named Brissiac and changed hands to a small minority from foreign lands. As the county united under a banner of green and red, around a man named Gano, the land watched. No matter the time, the people, or the era, the land of Kolda would always be the same until now.

Hours before, she had been in school, living an existence filled with formals, grades, and tennis matches. Yet by the point of a gun, Claire DeCote, along with several other students of the Lennesway Day School, had been taken by these armed men. The popular assumption propagated among both fellow students and the official investigation conducted in 2010 by Senghor’s administration is that Claire and the others had been killed by an Islamist contingent group within the military. This assumption filled the Islamophobic narrative that propagated the post-coup Kolda. Yet in reality, these men were of a different faith, the Diawara.

Both a religious group and the name of the central figure, Diawara, combined Christian values with a belief in reincarnation and that the Koldan people would be restored by a divine figure, a brother of Jesus sent down by God to his chosen people. And that night in 2009 was the first step in the vision of Jemus Jammeh, a religious political leader and 2024 Presidential Candidate. Considering these fact’s one would assume that the KLF-U and Etiene Senghor, the paramount political forces of Kolda, would denounce the Diawara. In reality, the Diawara had already become so entrenched, Senghor, who had formed a careful, secret alliance, would soon himself be surprised.

“Where are you taking us?” Claire asked in Koldan Creole, not her native tongue but a learned one.
“To see the truth of creation,” one of the soldiers said.
Claire had been mentally prepared this was how her young life would end.
“How will we see…?” she asked
“You will see Diawara”
“Who’s Diawara?”

Ettienne Senghor walked into his office on the first day of his 4th term with a smile on his face. He had just been sworn in at a public ceremony, more of a formality at this point; however, it was an opportunity for patriotism. The public had seen columns of troops armed with the newest weapons, tanks operated by the newest pilots. In his re-inauguration, Senghor had promised the nation was awakening from a “Koldan Dream”, the theme of his last term to this term’s theme, a “Koldan Reality”. 

Now, at his desk where members of his cabinet had gathered, he was presented with a series of executive orders, each one stacked up together. Although the Parliament was now much closer as the KLF-U had to now work with both the closely aligned old-style socialist Republican Rally and their new tactics allies, the Darwla Party. Jemus Jammeh had quickly made the President aware, it was the support of his followers that gave him the narrow victory in last year’s election. Senghor shared values in terms of history and in political nationalism, yet he disagreed with them for their steep theological deviations from mainstream Christianity.

His Vice-President, Joseph Thiangou, was a member of the Darwla area and had attempted to convert him on several occasions. Less than a year after selecting him as his new Vice-President, President Senghor was already regretting the arrangement to select the Diawara faithful KLF-U member. Although publicly very few within the party proclaimed such beliefs, part of Senghor was afraid of how many truly believed. At some point, this Diawara situation would pass, and Senghor would purge them. But for now, he saw them as allies.

“This proclamation directs a new military operation in Kendough-Sabourrise to investigate the recent attacks on civilian infrastructure”. The President said to the cameras that had gathered around his desk.
“What is the reason, Comrade President?” a reporter with Liberation TV asked, a staunchly pro-KLF network
“The election day attacks were extremely concerning. This will be addressed by an upcoming piece of legislation,” the President said.
In the stack were several other less important proclamations, just scraps to feed the patriotic birds which had once again come to roost at the Presidential Palace.

Claire was not killed that night as she and everyone else expected. She was brought to a country estate which equaled the most expensive homes of her classmates at Lennesway Day. On the first day of her captivity, it was explained they had been saved by the graciousness of their savior. She wasn’t the only one captured; dozens of children of the city’s best schools had been brought here. They had been separated by gender, with the boys wearing white robes while the girls wore red ones. Over that fateful breakfast, Claire began her transformation to one of the Diawara's most faithful.
“Who is our saviour, Jesus?” another girl asked.
“No,” a man said.
He was dressed in the cleanest white robes with gold lining a smile which could rival the sun in the sky. The one and only Jemus Jammeh. Claire soon became enamored with the leader of the Diawara Faith. When the other girls doubted his holiness and his greatness in private, Claire would confess her affection and belief in the Great Savior.

As the months went by, as she became educated and her connection grew both with God and the spirit Diawara. Her people, the Brissicans, had taken Kolda from Diawara, the Mother of the Koldan People. She prayed for the eventual return of Kolda to its original owners and the restoration of the Koldan Empire of old. She also prayed, Jemus would bring into the “Great Plan” he spoke of at weekly services. Finally, just after the start of the new year of 2010, she was given an opportunity.
Jemus approached her personally after dinner.
“Claire,” he said, standing behind her chair.
“Yes, Great Savior,” she said, eagerly waiting for his response
“Come with me,” he said, his gold staff by his side.
The two exited the girls’ dining hall and into the main courtyard. the two walked together, their sandals clicking in motion. Together. In her mind, Claire pondered what would come next. Over the past few months, several girls had gone with Jemus at night and not returned. Midway across the courtyard, Jemus asked.
“Happy Birthday,” he said
“What?” Claire asked, she hadn’t been keeping a close track of time. Her days had been full of light work around the compound and classes on religion. In her past life, life had been so artificial, so pointless. Yet here, she had found a connection both to God and to the beautiful land of Kolda.
“We have been keeping track, you are now a woman,” Jemus said
“Oh,” Claire said.
“In the traditional way of Diawara, boys become men at 15 and girls become women at 16. You know this, Claire” he said.
“Indeed, I have been so focused on my tasks, I have forgotten the days and weeks,” Claire said, embarrassed.
“That is admirable. tonight your work will be rewarded,” he said, opening the door of the main building of the compound.

In the aftermath of her escape, Mbaye walked the bushlands, sticking by the river. Eating berries and catching small mice for her meals. The water, although muddy, had become her lifeblood, the shade of trees becoming a brief respite from the harsh sun. After several nights of travel, she reached a town, Mbaye expected she would receive looks for her obviously dirty and broken appearance. Yet as she approached the town, tents and temporary settlements spread out, using small rocks and trees as cover from the sun. They were Moujerrian refugees from the east of the province who had been pushed out by both violence and physical removal by the Koldan government. And now Mbaye was just another person on the road. Mbaye began to ask around, eventually she had been taken in by a family of 5, they gave her a small portion of rice and an even smaller piece of chicken patty called “echota”, thickened by vegetable matter to give it density.

Mbaye didn’t know what was next; her true family had destroyed her homeland, and she had suffered at their hands. Yet she didn’t want to give up either on Kolda, there was a rebellious spirit out there. She heard of the election results a week after her arrival in the village while collecting water from a nearby well. Although she didn’t speak Moujerrian Arabic, her Kango, which a few months ago had been fairly weak, was her only method of communication. Knowing the opposition party had at least challenged the KLF-U, preventing a direct majority was a spark. However, that choice of her involvement would end up not being made by her.