Tales from Beyond the Rainbow

A long time ago in the Dahomey Kingdom, many years before the country of Benin was founded, there stood a vast city in the western savannah. Its walls stretched one hundred miles, each brick cast in bronze.

The city was ruled by the young King Dadase, who took the throne when he was just eighteen, upon the death of his father. His days were now filled with public engagements and meetings with his advisors, amidst endless schooling from his strict teachers. His lessons were held in a tower that overlooked the city, and during them Dadase often found himself staring out of the windows into the streets, where boys and girls his own age smiled and joked together. Dadase wished he could join them, just for a day, to have some fun and forget the responsibility he had inherited with his title.

And so one morning Dadase decided to venture out beyond the palace gates in disguise. He had noticed that when the cook came to work he brought with him a beige robe into which he changed to pray. So Dadase removed his fine jewelry and went to the kitchens in search of it.
The cook was outside in the courtyard, busying himself plucking a chicken. Dadase found the robe neatly folded on a shelf, and hurriedly removed his elegant embroidered tunic. Pulling the robe over his head, he stared at his reflection in one of the silver dishes and smiled; he looked no longer like a king but an ordinary man. Bowing his head, and careful not to look the guards in the eye, Dadase quietly left the palace and stepped barefoot into the dusty streets of the world beyond.

He headed to the market, which he had long yearned to visit. Within a labyrinth of alleyways, its traders hawked their treasures. Dadase breathed in the sweet scents of this wondrous place. Laid out before him were pyramids of pineapples and baskets of cashews, yams, and corn. An old man roasted chicken on a spit as a queue of customers licked their lips in anticipation of their first bite.

Of course, Dadase was no stranger to the rich and varied flavors of his kingdom. Every evening he dined on the very finest cuts of meat and the freshest vegetables and spices that the cook had gathered for his meal. But he had never set foot in the market himself. As Dadase turned a corner and saw a girl in the market, he immediately fell in love with her.

Many great rulers had brought their daughters to the kingdom in the hope that Dadase would take one of them as his wife. He had met some of the most beautiful women in the world, dressed in the most splendid clothes, their hands and necks heavy with the weight of jewels. And yet the girl in the market, who had no rings on her fingers and not a single thread of silk in her headscarf, had qualities no other possessed: a sparkle in her eyes, a smile that illuminated the shady corner in which she sat, and a laugh that made him laugh ­too . . . for the first time in forever.

The girl, the same age as Dadase, sat upon a step, her legs crossed in front of her as she called to passersby to sample her grandmother’s delicious peanut sauce. After just a spoonful, her customers eagerly bought jars to take home with them.

Dadase approached the girl and placed some gold coins at her feet, offering to buy every single jar she had brought to market. The girl beamed, delighted by such a display of generosity. As she carefully placed the jars in a cotton sack and handed them to him, Dadase became overwhelmed with emotion and could not help but declare his love.

“I am your king, but today I stand before you as an ordinary man,” said Dadase, taking the girl’s hands in his. “And, upon finding you, I do not wish to let you go. Do me the honor of becoming my bride, and return with me to the palace so I might look upon your face every day.”

The crowd gasped. No one could have imagined that their king would walk amongst them. And no one could have foreseen that of all the girls in the market, he might fall in love with this one in particular. The other traders, who had seen the girl come to market with her grandmother for many years, knew her history. They could remember the day she was born, and how her father had excitedly told everyone that his family had welcomed a son. They knew the name she was first given, though few were so disrespectful as to call her by it now.

Dausi was shocked by the young king’s proposal too. Dadase was extremely handsome, even dressed in a simple robe, and his honest declaration of love had moved her deeply. Staring into his longing eyes, she had not the heart to reject his offer, nor the wish ­to—​­for she knew that she loved him too.

However, Dausi wanted to be sure that the king would love her despite her past, and so she asked him to sit with her, and told him her story. As her tale drew to a close, she looked away, scared to meet his gaze in case he should reject her.

But Dadase simply repeated his question.

“Will you marry me?”

“Yes,” said Dausi, beaming.

And, with that, Dadase and the poor girl from the market walked back to the palace. Dausi looked down at her hand, which the king held so tightly, and felt a great wave of happiness flood her body, from her fingertips to the depths of her heart.

During her first few weeks in the palace, every day seemed like a dream. So smitten was Dadase that he showered Dausi with gifts and affection. The king insisted his tailors be at Dausi’s disposal whenever she wished, and each day she rose excited to discover a beautiful new dress folded neatly on her bed to wear. There were women who braided her hair, and in their company, as they shared their stories, Dausi felt a sense of sisterhood unlike any she’d known before.

However, when Dausi had agreed to marry the king, she had not fully considered how the act would change her life. For not only would she become his bride but she’d become the kingdom’s queen. Although the thought of such a thing filled her with pride, she also worried that there might be some who would not accept her taking this title.

Dausi’s concerns were sadly founded in truth. Some in the palace had noticed that Dausi was distracting Dadase from his duties as king. One of them was Aluba, an ambitious woman who had long yearned to be Dadase’s bride herself. Her mother had served as an advisor to Dadase’s father, and her grandmother to his grandfather. She had noticed that Dadase had paid less attention to her advice since Dausi had arrived at the palace, and she was very jealous.

One of the things Aluba loved most was gossip, and she liked nothing more than to help a rumor take flight. So when she learned that some in the palace were whispering secrets about Dausi and her past, Aluba saw an opportunity to regain her influence over the king.

“Get out of my way!” she yelled at a young maid, pushing past her in her haste to reach the king’s chambers. Aluba couldn’t wait to tell the king and his courtiers about Dausi’s secret past. She believed that Dadase’s favor would fall once more upon her, and she would be rewarded handsomely for helping to expel a traitor from his inner circle.

Aluba found the king sat upon his throne reading, and hurried to his side.

“Dausi is a man!” she exclaimed.

But Dadase looked upon her with disdain, annoyed that Aluba had interrupted his peace.

“Aluba, you have been in my life for longer than I can remember,” said the king, “but you cannot remain by my side if you say such venomous things.”

“But I speak the truth!” said Aluba, desperate to have the king believe her.

“The only truth is that Dausi is a woman,” said the king. “We have no secrets between us, and she has told me her story. A story which is not yours, only hers, to share.”

Aluba left the room. She returned to her quarters and wept, and after some time rage took hold of her soul. As the stars passed overhead, she stared at the ceiling, plotting ways to stop Dausi from being crowned queen, until eventually she landed on a plan to drive her away forever.
The next day, Aluba visited Dausi early with an offering of flowers.

“Today the women go to the spring to make offerings to the fetishes,” she announced. “Will you sit at the gates of the palace with me and watch them pass? It is quite the spectacle. I have fresh melons for us to enjoy while we watch.”

Dausi knew well the custom of which Aluba spoke. Their bodies anointed with fat, their necks and arms dusted with àtíkè powder, hundreds of women from the city would parade to the river to honor the ­fetishes—​­beautiful statues depicting the different spirits of the land. The women wore the most beautiful pearl belts and bracelets, which caught the light of the sun.

For much of the afternoon, Aluba and Dausi ate and talked and laughed together. Dausi was pleased to have found another woman in the palace to whom she felt she could open her heart.

“As a child, I often wondered what it would feel like to walk amongst them,” said Dausi softly as they watched the procession pass by, “and I dreamt one day I might.”

Aluba said nothing. Instead, she grinned, because she knew that Dausi now trusted her and would listen to her, whatever she had to say.

In the weeks that followed, Aluba made Dausi’s life a misery. When Dausi asked her for her opinion on the clothes she planned to wear for her wedding, Aluba told her they did not suit her. When introducing Dausi to others, Aluba told them how Dausi had been born poor, and corrected Dausi when she did or said things outside of palace etiquette. Though Aluba presented her advice as kindness, she knew that it would cause Dausi humiliation.

And it did. Dausi soon began to question whether she could ever fit in within this royal world, and if she even deserved to be there. She was, after all, just the girl from the ­market—​­could she really become the queen that everybody wanted? A queen who walked a certain way and spoke of royal matters with grace and poise?

Worst of all, although she was careful not to do so in front of the king, time and time again Aluba pretended to forget Dausi’s name, and instead referred to her by the name she had been given at birth. When Dausi asked her politely to use her chosen name instead, Aluba would apologize loudly, using the wrong name again, so that everyone around them would hear.

Aluba’s words stung like a scorpion’s tail, and every time Dausi heard them, a little of her happiness drained away. She grew more anxious about the wedding, worried what the people of the kingdom would think of her when they saw her crowned at Dadase’s side. At night, she could not sleep. For many years Dausi had felt at peace, but now, slowly, from somewhere within her, the fear that had once occupied her thoughts returned like a deep and endless heartbreak.

On the eve of her wedding, as the palace slumbered, Dausi sneaked to the kitchens, just as Dadase had done on the day they met. Taking care not to wake anyone, she boiled some cornmeal and carefully rolled it into pellets. After storing them in a calabash and checking the courtyard was clear, she pulled a shawl over her head and ventured into the night.

For Dadase, leaving the palace in disguise had been an easy task. The dogs that guarded each of its forty gates knew his scent and had been trained since pups to always let him pass. But Dausi knew that they would bark if she approached them, and alert the sleeping guards of her escape.

Fortunately, her plan worked. One by one, the dogs at each gate wolfed down the cornmeal she fed them, distracted long enough for her to pass in silence. Dausi eventually found herself back in the dusty city streets and, knowing them well, fled through the back alleys at such speed that very soon she had reached the familiar world of the market again.

In the dead of night, the market was a different place. Gone were its sights and scents and the chatter of a thousand voices. Dausi sat in the dirt at the spot she’d always taken to sell her peanut sauce. She paused there for a moment, looking back at the distant spires of the palace far behind her.

Dausi remembered looking up at Dadase for the first time, right here, into eyes that looked upon her in a way no others ­had—​­not with curiosity or confusion but love. She knew she should be happy, but that felt impossible. She knew she could be ­queen—​­and yet Aluba, and who knew how many others, still looked at her with suspicion and fear in their hearts.

And so Dausi stood again, and bravely ventured through the city gates into the savannah and its many dangers. Many before her had ventured there, into an unknown world of magic and wondrous things. Some returned transformed by their experience, whilst others were never seen again. Dausi wondered if she too might change and if such a wish could be granted by the spirits of the wilderness. But, ultimately, she did not know where she was going, nor did she care much what became of her.

In the early hours of the next morning, before the sun had risen, Dadase woke as he always ­did—​­eager to spend time with Dausi. He dressed and hurried to her chamber, but upon arriving there he was surprised to find Aluba instead.

“Your Grace,” said Aluba, trying to contain her glee, “Dausi has run away. Perhaps she feared she would never be accepted as your queen. What a joyous day, now she has gone, for you are free to take another as your bride.”

But to Aluba’s surprise Dadase fell to his knees and cried out. His voice carried across the city, and all could hear his pain. But even the dry Harmattan wind could not deliver it to Dausi, now so very far away.

Dausi had journeyed many miles, following the path of the moon. She had waded in the mangroves and escaped the hippo’s tusks. She had crossed the fallow fields through the smoke of their burning brush. She had passed through the sacred forests where the monkeys had screamed at her to leave. Finally, as the skies turned overcast and rain began to fall, she sought shelter under a baobab tree and looked out across the wilderness that stretched to the horizon. There, antelopes grazed, unaware that lions were circling them.

But the antelopes were not alone in being hunted. Startled by the snap of a branch, Dausi turned to see two yellow eyes staring back at her from the thorny scrub. Hyena bared his teeth and growled. But, to his surprise, Dausi simply shrugged, and stared at the ground.

“Hyena,” she said, “I am very unhappy. Carry me away.”

Hyena could see from her hopeless eyes that Dausi told the truth, and so instead of pouncing on his prey, he turned away. But no sooner had he left than another beast arrived. Panther was hungry and had sensed Dausi from afar. Dausi sighed and buried her head in her arms.

“Panther,” she said, “I am very unhappy. Carry me away.”

Panther shook his head. He could see from her desperate plea that Dausi told the truth, and no meal was worth eating that felt no worth in itself.

As Panther left, Dausi looked up, a shadow falling upon her. A figure stood tall by the baobab tree; his hand reached out toward her. Dausi recognized him at once.

“Death,” she whispered, exhausted, “I am very unhappy. Carry me away.”

But Death did not strike her down. Instead, he sat with her.

“Tell me, girl, what troubles you?” he said.

“I cannot find the words,” Dausi replied.

“Try if you can,” Death encouraged her.

Dausi stared blankly into the distance.

“I fear that others will never see me as I see myself,” she said eventually.
Death sighed.

“Then let me remind you what they see,” he said, and covered her eyes with his palms.

A gust of wind suddenly blew across the savannah and leaves fell from the tree. The world was plunged into darkness, and for a moment Dausi could not feel the ground beneath her. Then, slowly, her eyes adjusted and she saw someone ahead, looking back at her, smiling; she was sat upon the ground, surrounded by bottles of peanut sauce. She was the girl in the market.

In that moment, Dausi saw how Dadase must have seen her the day they met, and how she had looked back at him, a sparkle in her eyes. And, like Dadase had done, Dausi felt a sudden warmth that spread through every fiber of her being, as love swelled in her heart.

Death removed his hands, and Dausi opened her eyes. The sun was rising, and the first thing she saw was her shadow, cast upon the trunk of the baobab tree. She stared at her silhouette and noticed for the first time how it pleased her, her long hair flickering in the breeze.

“What did you see?” asked Death.

“A woman who I love,” said Dausi. “And a queen.”

Back in the city, Aluba had decided not to let the preparations for the royal wedding go to waste. She saw an opportunity to impress the king, and commanded that the feast should go ahead in his honor, thinking that perhaps he’d take her as his bride instead. She marched around the palace, barking orders to the servants, many of whom had been working since before dawn.


Then she heard something that deeply troubled her: a singing voice that drifted through the palace corridors. Aluba instantly recognized that it belonged to Dausi. Following the song, she arrived at Dausi’s chamber where she discovered Dausi wrapping a long skirt around her waist.
“But I thought you ran away!” said Aluba.

“Why would I do so,” replied Dausi, “when I am the happiest I’ve ever been?”

Aluba stared at her, horrified. There was nothing she could say that could extinguish Dausi’s joy, which radiated from her so brightly. Dausi had ignored Aluba’s advice and now stood before her in the clothes she’d picked to wear for the wedding, and her beauty could not be denied.

At that moment, Dadase, who had also heard Dausi’s voice, ran into the room.

“I thought you were gone,” said the king, embracing her with tears in his eyes.

Looking on, Aluba stamped her feet, livid.

“You will never be my queen, you fraud!” she roared, her blood boiling with hate. Her heart beat fast, her eyes turned red, and her fists clenched so tight that her nails pierced her skin.

“Dear Aluba,” said Dausi calmly, “please sit down; you don’t look well.”

But Aluba was so angry that no one could restrain her. The king’s guards ran into the room and tried to hold her back. But still she raged and swore and screamed all manner of terrible things, until she felt the room begin to spin about her. Then she stopped, and saw Dausi staring back at her, her mouth agape. She looked at the guards and their shocked faces. But what hurt her most of all was the disappointment in Dadase’s eyes. Aluba attempted to regain her composure as the king approached her cautiously.

“It is you who are the fraud,” he said. “For you pretended to be Dausi’s friend, and now the truth has been exposed.”

The king ordered his guards to carry Aluba away until her rage had calmed. As she sat inside a prison cell, alone with her regrets, the rest of the palace came together to celebrate Dadase and Dausi’s wedding. The girl from the market took her place at the king’s side, and the whole city feasted for three days. And they reigned for many years together, and Dausi became the most beloved of queens.