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blacksapphhicmaddonna · 1 year

Text

half truths pt. 1

Izogie x Nanisca

Izogie didn’t die before the end battle - at least not all the way. She has come back home to the palace, but Nanisca knows she isn’t all there. Nanisca knows everything - almost. There’s a lot of things both of them haven’t admitted, but one seems to be taking a step towards vulnerability while one seems to be fighting some internal conflicts. Izogie is still a badass, though.

Mother/Daughter vibes underneath Commander/Lieutenant pairing. There’s a lot of respect, but there’s also a lot of love.

content warnings: mentions of wounds/scars, enslavement/enslavers, war/battle, weapons, body parts/physical training. (no fluff or smut stuff yet but it’s only part one lmaooo).

Fon to English Translations (these may not be perfect, if anybody has any feedback pls lmk!!!):

Dŏwe - Lieutenant

Vǐ ce - My Child

Word Count: 1,935

I love Nanisca, she’s never in any fics so I wanted to start out with her and her relationship to Izogie being developed. There’s more to come with her and Amenza, and Nawi as well.

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Her eyes were dead set on the pair of strong legs in front of her as she pulled herself up off the ground, again and again - a look of total focus for something far beyond what was before her. Her hands made room for themselves in the hot, burnt orange soil. Her toes bent in, somehow equally as strong as the rest of her body, hinging with her every push.

The sun was just starting to go down, everyone else had finished training that day but the warrior and Nanisca had made a deal to do some extra work to get her back where she was before her injuries. She was lieutenant after all, and despite what happened - she was Agojie. They both were, and neither knew when something else might happen or when new trainees would come. She needed to be ready, they both agreed - despite Nanisca’s slight apprehension.

“170…30 more.” Nanisca said, rolling the point of a dulled dagger on her finger tip, balancing the blade’s end between her other pointer. She knew it was practically nothing for the warrior to complete reps like this, she knew of the long nights and early mornings she spent training in what she thought was secret. Nanisca believed herself to know everything that went on in the palace and within the Agojie. But especially of what her successor was up too. She once did, maybe. But now, she wasn’t so sure. She only wish she knew more of what went on in the woman’s mind, the place where no one else could see. After so much turmoil, Nanisca felt the need to be more sure now than ever of what was taking place in her orbit.

“10 more. Alternate them.” Nanisca coached as she walked behind the woman to check her form from the back, noticing small cuts on her ankles and up her calves. She made note of this, filing it away with the rest of the knowledge she held about what was always going on around her, even if not in front of her. She looked at the woman’s arms and shoulders. Her form was perfect, as always.

As the warrior swiftly - precisely - switched arms each rep, it was as if she was holding her breathe. Her core was tight and engaged, her legs never shook like any of the trainees and even some of the other Agojie (to which they tried to hide.). She was always precise, always on time, and always solid.

“You may stop now.” Nanisca said, bringing her mind back to focus.

The warrior brought her knees forward and sat down, arms stretching behind her. She caught her breath, in quiet but big gulps.

“Tell me, Izogie, what have you been doing while I am not watching?”

The warrior hiccuped and choked on the air she was attempting to restore rhythm to for a split second, recovering quickly.

She didn’t answer, silence sat between them aside from the sounds of Izogie’s breath returning to center.

“You have nothing to say, Dŏwe?” Nanisca paused, waiting to see if the warrior would respond. She wanted the truth, as she had always gotten from Izogie without question. She felt a familiar pang of frustration quickly dispel into consideration and concern as she looked at the warriors hand shake as she tried to hide it behind her thigh. She had never seen her shake before.

“Vǐ ce?” She asked again, softer. She had always felt softened about Izogie but Nanisca had buried her softness a long time ago. Until now. Until Nawi. She internally cursed herself for missing so much that she could’ve had. So much with Izogie, so much with the other Agojie, so much with Amenza - her truest friend, her truest something in so much nothingness she had endured. She often spent time yearning for who she once was, knowing she would have to grieve a girl that never got to exist. She didn’t want that for anybody else, Agojie or not. Responsibility or not.

Izogie’s eyes traced her arms and the scars that lay on them as she looked for the words to say, the worry of her secret trainings being known to the Miganon sitting in the forefront of her mind. Something else, sitting behind it. She eased a bit as Nanisca called her that word - child. She had not been a child in so long.

“I… I have been doing some extra trainings, alone. I apologize for keeping it a secret, Miganon. I have felt like I need to improve since the last battle with the Oyo and the slavers. I almost didn’t make it out. I was shot.. twice. And thought dead until Amenza… well you know. What’s worse is I nearly gave up before that.. I nearly let someone else decide my fate. If not for Nawi then…”

Her brow furrowed as she mindlessly brought her palm to one of her newer scars. If you can even call it a scar - it had not yet healed fully. A sometimes dull, sometimes sharp pain sat within the woman’s core and chest, every day.

In the absence of a response from Nanisca, Izogie continued, trying to pull herself together. She cannot slip, not here, not now.

“Then I would be dead. Or worse.”

“I do not want to fail Dahomey ever again. I do not want to fail you, ever again…” She said, meaning it wholly. “An- Anyway, I apologize Miganon. I accept any puni-”.

“I do not train sorry women. I do not welcome home failures.” Nanisca started. Izogie’s eyes darted to the other woman’s eyes, taken aback by the returning sternness, and shock at what she was hearing.

“You did not die. And when you were taken, you still sought to follow my orders to slit your throat, even in the midst of your own life hanging in the balance. Yes?” She nodded at the warrior, asking more than telling.

“You fought until the very end, and even further. You would have died anything but a failure. But…I am glad you did not slit your throat. I am glad you are home, here with us. With me…” Nanisca looked deep into her eyes, in a way only a mother could - even if she didn’t know she was a mother, really. Then she looked away.

“But I am not glad that since you have returned, you have not been the honest woman I know you to be. You think I do not know what happens in this palace? That I do not know you are more tired in the mornings than normal? That I do not see the repairs made to the training equipment, or see the blood left behind in the bath? I hear your pain at night when you do actually try to sleep, and I know you do not frequent the healers the way you should be. I hear you telling half truths, Izogie.” Nanisca set her dagger down and walked over to face the warrior fully.

“I am asking about the cuts on your legs, the scent on your clothes when you greet me. The look in your eyes during the day. It is not just grief that you feel. Am I wrong?”

The warrior was speechless, a new feeling for her. Her head dropped low, examining the soil with her eyes as they welled with hot tears. One fell to the ground between her legs, making the orange soil turn muddy. She fought them with everything she had in her, which didn’t feel like much anymore.

Nanisca knelt next to her, grabbing her face with her fingers softly wiping away a tear or two, and lifting her chin.

She was softer than Izogie remembered her being. She knew she had Nawi to thank, although she probably wouldn’t.

“Do not bow your head to me like I am nothing more than a commander. In battle, you would hand me the same sword that would keep you alive in less than a thought. You think I would not offer you even my ear?” She seared into Izogie’s eyes with a passion she had not felt with anyone but Nawi. She felt like she was looking at her child, as much as she was looking at her sister and her comrade.

The warrior sat, silenced by her own mind. She knew what the Miganon was talking about. Her time spent outside the palace lately. Izogie has always been one to do her own thing, but she had never been out so frequently. She had never been secretive with Nanisca, even as a trainee. She always told the truth, loudly and openly for all to see and hear. She had always kept her sworn loyalty, without question and without force. Izogie loved being Agojie, and she respected all the rules that came along with being in the palace. She respected Nanisca, and she loved her. Quietly, underneath her reverence for the Woman King. But this was something she knew even the Miganon could not advocate for, or maybe even understand. She knew it had to be a secret.

She closed her eyes and opened her mouth trying to say something. Anything. But the sharpness had returned and she groaned instead.

Nanisca let her face go and squeezed her shoulders tightly as she stood.

“I will not ask again today. I trust in you the way I trust in myself. I know my own mind so I know yours, too. Do you trust me, Izogie?”

The warrior stood, arm bent over her core.

“I do, Miganon. Without question.”

Nanisca nodded slowly, knowing the warrior meant what she said but also knowing that she was going to keep whatever was going on from her for now. She knew the woman well, and well enough to recognize the look in her eye was as genuine as it was privately holding a secret. She wiped her hands on her tunic to rid of the dust from the ground and prepared to leave, sheathing her dagger. She could forgive one secret, for now, off the respect that this woman died for her daughter and fought to defend for her own life many times before.

“I do not approve of your trainings.” She said in a voice that suggested she was back to business.

“But I will never take your body from you the way the slavers tried to, the way the Oyo did to me. You will figure it out. I give you two orders, lieutenant. Let yourself heal.”

Izogie nodded her head as she stood at attention.

“I will be listening when you are ready to tell me the truth.”

She turned to walk away as Izogie stood there, in pain and drained from her training and the workings of her own mind.

“Miganon!” She called after the woman.

“What is the second order?” She asked, eager to please her commander again, not knowing she never stopped.

The Miganon turned only her head for a moment, before turning it back forward as she continued to walk.

“Never bow your head again, not in this palace and not anywhere else.”

Izogie stood there, holding her breath again as Nanisca entered back into the palace walls and about the rest of her business. Once she was out of sight, she sighed deeply and relaxed her arms and shoulders. She wasn’t sure what to make of what just happened but she felt comforted and at the same time, all the more conflicted than before.

She grabbed her weapons and headed to her chambers to change.

______________________________________________________________

hey y'all, this is my first fic in a long time. its gonna be a short series, so pls lmk what you’re thinking and any feedback you have! (literally I am begging pls) thank you so much for reading 🥹

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not-active-blacksapphhicmaddonna · 1 year

Text

half truths pt. 1

Izogie x Nanisca

Izogie didn't die before the end battle - at least not all the way. She has come back home to the palace, but Nanisca knows she isn't all there. Nanisca knows everything - almost. There's a lot of things both of them haven't admitted, but one seems to be taking a step towards vulnerability while one seems to be fighting some internal conflicts. Izogie is still a badass, though.

Mother/Daughter vibes underneath Commander/Lieutenant pairing. There's a lot of respect, but there's also a lot of love.

content warnings: mentions of wounds/scars, enslavement/enslavers, war/battle, weapons, body parts/physical training. (no fluff or smut stuff yet but it's only part one lmaooo).

Fon to English Translations (these may not be perfect, if anybody has any feedback pls lmk!!!):

Dŏwe - Lieutenant

Vǐ ce - My Child

Word Count: 1,935

I love Nanisca, she's never in any fics so I wanted to start out with her and her relationship to Izogie being developed. There's more to come with her and Amenza, and Nawi as well.

______________________________________________________________

"170...30 more." Nanisca said, rolling the point of a dulled dagger on her finger tip, balancing the blade's end between her other pointer. She knew it was practically nothing for the warrior to complete reps like this, she knew of the long nights and early mornings she spent training in what she thought was secret. Nanisca believed herself to know everything that went on in the palace and within the Agojie. But especially of what her successor was up too. She once did, maybe. But now, she wasn't so sure. She only wish she knew more of what went on in the woman's mind, the place where no one else could see. After so much turmoil, Nanisca felt the need to be more sure now than ever of what was taking place in her orbit.

"10 more. Alternate them." Nanisca coached as she walked behind the woman to check her form from the back, noticing small cuts on her ankles and up her calves. She made note of this, filing it away with the rest of the knowledge she held about what was always going on around her, even if not in front of her. She looked at the woman's arms and shoulders. Her form was perfect, as always.

"You may stop now." Nanisca said, bringing her mind back to focus.

The warrior brought her knees forward and sat down, arms stretching behind her. She caught her breath, in quiet but big gulps.

"Tell me, Izogie, what have you been doing while I am not watching?"

The warrior hiccuped and choked on the air she was attempting to restore rhythm to for a split second, recovering quickly.

She didn't answer, silence sat between them aside from the sounds of Izogie's breath returning to center.

"You have nothing to say, Dŏwe?" Nanisca paused, waiting to see if the warrior would respond. She wanted the truth, as she had always gotten from Izogie without question. She felt a familiar pang of frustration quickly dispel into consideration and concern as she looked at the warriors hand shake as she tried to hide it behind her thigh. She had never seen her shake before.

"Vǐ ce?" She asked again, softer. She had always felt softened about Izogie but Nanisca had buried her softness a long time ago. Until now. Until Nawi. She internally cursed herself for missing so much that she could've had. So much with Izogie, so much with the other Agojie, so much with Amenza - her truest friend, her truest something in so much nothingness she had endured. She often spent time yearning for who she once was, knowing she would have to grieve a girl that never got to exist. She didn't want that for anybody else, Agojie or not. Responsibility or not.

Izogie's eyes traced her arms and the scars that lay on them as she looked for the words to say, the worry of her secret trainings being known to the Miganon sitting in the forefront of her mind. Something else, sitting behind it. She eased a bit as Nanisca called her that word - child. She had not been a child in so long.

"I... I have been doing some extra trainings, alone. I apologize for keeping it a secret, Miganon. I have felt like I need to improve since the last battle with the Oyo and the slavers. I almost didn't make it out. I was shot.. twice. And thought dead until Amenza... well you know. What's worse is I nearly gave up before that.. I nearly let someone else decide my fate. If not for Nawi then..."

In the absence of a response from Nanisca, Izogie continued, trying to pull herself together. She cannot slip, not here, not now.

"Then I would be dead. Or worse."

"I do not want to fail Dahomey ever again. I do not want to fail you, ever again..." She said, meaning it wholly. "An- Anyway, I apologize Miganon. I accept any puni-".

"I do not train sorry women. I do not welcome home failures." Nanisca started. Izogie's eyes darted to the other woman's eyes, taken aback by the returning sternness, and shock at what she was hearing.

"You did not die. And when you were taken, you still sought to follow my orders to slit your throat, even in the midst of your own life hanging in the balance. Yes?" She nodded at the warrior, asking more than telling.

"You fought until the very end, and even further. You would have died anything but a failure. But...I am glad you did not slit your throat. I am glad you are home, here with us. With me..." Nanisca looked deep into her eyes, in a way only a mother could - even if she didn't know she was a mother, really. Then she looked away.

"But I am not glad that since you have returned, you have not been the honest woman I know you to be. You think I do not know what happens in this palace? That I do not know you are more tired in the mornings than normal? That I do not see the repairs made to the training equipment, or see the blood left behind in the bath? I hear your pain at night when you do actually try to sleep, and I know you do not frequent the healers the way you should be. I hear you telling half truths, Izogie." Nanisca set her dagger down and walked over to face the warrior fully.

"I am asking about the cuts on your legs, the scent on your clothes when you greet me. The look in your eyes during the day. It is not just grief that you feel. Am I wrong?"

Nanisca knelt next to her, grabbing her face with her fingers softly wiping away a tear or two, and lifting her chin.

She was softer than Izogie remembered her being. She knew she had Nawi to thank, although she probably wouldn't.

"Do not bow your head to me like I am nothing more than a commander. In battle, you would hand me the same sword that would keep you alive in less than a thought. You think I would not offer you even my ear?" She seared into Izogie's eyes with a passion she had not felt with anyone but Nawi. She felt like she was looking at her child, as much as she was looking at her sister and her comrade.

She closed her eyes and opened her mouth trying to say something. Anything. But the sharpness had returned and she groaned instead.

Nanisca let her face go and squeezed her shoulders tightly as she stood.

"I will not ask again today. I trust in you the way I trust in myself. I know my own mind so I know yours, too. Do you trust me, Izogie?"

The warrior stood, arm bent over her core.

"I do, Miganon. Without question."

"I do not approve of your trainings." She said in a voice that suggested she was back to business.

"But I will never take your body from you the way the slavers tried to, the way the Oyo did to me. You will figure it out. I give you two orders, lieutenant. Let yourself heal."

Izogie nodded her head as she stood at attention.

"I will be listening when you are ready to tell me the truth."

She turned to walk away as Izogie stood there, in pain and drained from her training and the workings of her own mind.

"Miganon!" She called after the woman.

"What is the second order?" She asked, eager to please her commander again, not knowing she never stopped.

The Miganon turned only her head for a moment, before turning it back forward as she continued to walk.

"Never bow your head again, not in this palace and not anywhere else."

Izogie stood there, holding her breath again as Nanisca entered back into the palace walls and about the rest of her business. Once she was out of sight, she sighed deeply and relaxed her arms and shoulders. She wasn't sure what to make of what just happened but she felt comforted and at the same time, all the more conflicted than before.

She grabbed her weapons and headed to her chambers to change.

______________________________________________________________

hey y'all, this is my first fic in a long time. its gonna be a short series, so pls lmk what you're thinking and any feedback you have! (literally I am begging pls) thank you so much for reading 🥹

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emrad001 · 2 years

Text

The woman king fanart

#the woman king #illustration #emrad #promarkers #copicmarkers #painting with markers #dahomey #amazon warrior #viola davis #lashana lynch #izogie #nanisca #miganon #artist on tumblr

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jbk405 · 1 year

Video

Their size makes them arrogant and slow. Like their guns. But you don’t need a gun to use gunpowder, you just need a spark.

Sometimes, a termite can take down an elephant.

#The Woman King #Nanisca #Izogie #Amenza #Nawi #General Nanisca #Agojie #Dahomey #Kingdom of Dahomey #Oyo #Oyo Empire #Oba Ade #Fight #Rousing Speech #Dance #Video

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mt-nynj-queer · 4 months

Text

DaHomey

Body of Benin

#dahomey #bodyofbenin

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comparativetarot · 11 months

Photo

Queen of Wands. Art by Lisa Hunt, from the Animals Divine Tarot.

Nana Buluku

#Lisa Hunt #Animals Divine Tarot #Queen of Wands #Queen #Wands #Minor Arcana #Tarot #Folklore #Benin #Dahomey #Fon #Togo #Ewe #Nana Buluku #Animals #Snake #Racial Diversity

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the-queerview · 2 months

Text

Dahomey, 2024

by Mati Diop

I know its been a while my dear readers, I was again in a hole, binge watching k drama and oh yeah the Berlinale happened. Unfortunately the Berlinale fucked up twice, first by inviting the AFD- Nazi Party to the Filmfestival and a second time by fascist treatment of a the Israeli journalist Yuval Abraham and Palestinian filmmaker Basel Adra after their film 'No Other Land' won the a price for the Panorama Audience Award for Best Documentary Film... WHHHHHYYYYY Germany so disappointing. So yeah I was digging myself under my blanket or working in the library with a friend on my non existent art practice, but I made it to one film at the Berlinale. As a low budget filmmaker myself, I know how hard it is for filmmakers to get funding or places, where their films are shown, so I feel for those ones, who were selected, since its an international film festival and to quote here one my old philosophy professors: more language means more world. I wanna see and learn and cherish and cry and be angry and devastated and touched. the world of film is sharing ideas trough images. And its a dangerous but also precious gift.

Anyways, we start with a documentary I saw there by Mati Diop, titled " Dahomey". Mati Diop won as the first african female director the grand price at Cannes for her Film "Atlantique" in 2019. The film has actually 3 entities. It's a documentary showing the return of 26 Benin bronce treasures from the Kingdom of Dahomey to Benin. The first entity is the ghosts Voice of the treasure, they are speaking to us, to the audience, sharing their thoughts and their disconnect to their homecountry as well as their transportation back. The voice is written and spoken by Makenzy Orcel, a haitian writer. The transportation to their The second entity is the bureaucratic reality. we see the art historians and their helpers, checking and packing the works for the transportation by plane from France. We see how cautious they are and tbh I got scared for the works and would probably shit my pants, If I was responsible for taking care of this important treasure. one of my favorite scenes was when the chef of the return operation put a little fine string on a details of the benin sculpture for the transport. The little Detail. The third entity is the arrival in Abomey, Benin and the building of a museum for the works, which is also accompanied by student meetings, where they discuss what this return means and how come from the 7000 stolen treasures only 26 get back, and how do you deal with something that was stolen from you and suddenly comes back partly, how does artworks that also serve a religious purpose and become part of your identification with a place or a nation affect you? Also what does it mean to learn about french art history but not about your own, since it was stolen by colonizers? Those are just examples, the conversations went on.

There were moments, when Mati Diop showed the very intimate moment, like the first time, visitors could see the treasures in the new museum and their reaction. The first night of the sculptures is accompanied by the ghost voice of them talking again to us in the Museum and their reflection on it.

What I liked about the film is, that you as a viewer, are enganged in a conversation, you listen to the sculpture and therefor in this film, the sculpture becomes a real person, with feelings and fear and depth, you also listen to the human world, you observe what they are doing, and you observe how they talk about you, what they feel when they look at you. Therefor I consider this film genius so longer I think about it. Its a documentary but its magical. The film was not made in the perspective for us, the film is made out of the perspective of the ghost of the sculptures, looking into their future and in our present.

I barely know stuff about yorubian folktales, but I read once this amazing book by nigerian novelist Amos Tutuola "my life in the bush of ghosts", where he was inspired by yorubian folktales he grew up in, and some of the ghosts there, there are a looot of ghosts in the book, that have this animal heads, and when I saw the Benin treasures in the film, of the kings, with the animal heads and I thought about the ghosts in the book, I was very touched, since they also say in the film: The heads of the sculptures are depicted as one of the animals. you become a sculpture when you die, but you are not allowed to see it. when you lived a good life, they will make a sculpture of you, but you cant see it, or you will be cursed.

Besides I really recommend you guys to read at some point in your life " my life in the bush of ghosts", if you are interested of course.

I don't wanna spoiler to hard here, since the film will be released in theaters in September, but I highly recommend you to go and see it in a cinema, not at home, if its possible for you and affordable in any way, I know many people having a hard time rn.

Also this is my personal opinion, but yeah this world will be cursed forever, if all the countries wont get back their stolen treasures and art. Also Reparation payments must be done basically for eternity. I hope some important asshole watched the film and will realize that even if you were not alive when the bad things happen, if you are in a power position and have access to make decision, recognize your responsibility to create acts of apology and give the stolen things back and support.

in this words,

take care my readers

the queerview

#art house #documentary #mati diop #dahomey #benin republic #berlinale #film critique #treasure #female directed films #female filmmakers

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illyanarasputinfan · 2 years

Note

What did you do on your last date with your husband?

We went to the theater to watch The Woman King. It was very good. I really enjoyed it.

#The Woman King #Woman King #Viola Davis #Movie #Movies #Film #Films #Actress #Actresses #Africa #Agojie #Dahomey #Amazons #Woman #Women #Nanisca

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friendswithclay · 9 months

Text

“The Néssouhoués Reincarnation of the princes and princesses of Abomey, Come back from the Dido fountain. -Aborey, Dahomey”

From: “Dieux d'Afrique : culte des Or-ishas et Vodouns à l'ancienne côte des esclaves en Afrique et à Bahia, la baie de tous les saints au Brésil” by Verger, Pierre; 1995.

#friendswithclay #clay #Dahomey

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iartsysam · 1 year

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In the beginning: Damballah Wedo and Ayida Wedo ⚕️🌈🐍🤍

Symbolism is important. I believe there’s always a message. Whether it’s sent through animals or people, there is importance and meaning behind it and by being as present, grounded, and conscious as I can be, I won’t miss it.

Meditation is one of the tools that aid me in staying present and more grounded. I find it relaxing to meditate near water and in nature. I hear more loudly when in quiet surroundings. My mind feels more at ease and a lot clearer.

I learn a lot from being observant and I search deeper and discover more about my culture, roots, and myself.

I’ve learned butterflies are deep and powerful representations of life. They are beautiful and have mystery and are a metaphor representing spiritual #rebirth, #transformation, change, hope, and life.

As for apples, the forbidden fruit is a symbol of the beginning, knowledge, immortality, and temptation.

I’ve learned that snakes and their worship were essential to the people of west Africa, such as the Fon and Dahomey.

The serpent spirit is ancient, I’ve learned about it and the rainbow’s tale and even people who know very little about Haitian Vodou seem to know about it.

Sacred stories traverse boundaries and limitations, and this story of two divine snakes is no exception.

In a time before, there were two serpents- masculine and feminine. They were lovers, intertwined souls, who danced their magick on the continent of #Africa.

There came a time when that was no longer possible. Due to War and strife, the possibility and the push of a new land became necessary. The serpents made the journey to the new world.

Damballah made the trip beneath the seas, the realm of the ancestors, and profound wisdom.

Ayida traveled across the sky as wearing the crown of the rainbow. They met and intertwined again in the New World, bringing the joy and beauty of their majesty.

Each time you see a rainbow, you’ll know that these two are meeting to rejoice in their love. The rainbow is also the symbol of hope and new beginnings. In love, in a career, or in any aspect of life.

#art #illustration #wisdom #iartsysam #vodou #artist

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