“Zulu?” Joy asks. “What does Zulu mean?” 

Joy, Amahle and Charlie are still sitting on the park bench in Amahle’s completely dark dream, somewhere in Johannesburg. The music has stopped and Joy, Charlie, and Amahle are talking while Master Mind, Justin, and I stand at the side, and only I am allowed to make noise. 

Amahle mentions her Zulu mother, when Joy asks what it is. Justin squeezes my hand. He wants to answer, he wants to make sure Joy doesn’t say something completely insensitive. But he keeps silent.

“Have you never heard of the Zulu, Joy?”

“Amahle, I don’t know almost anything,” Joy’s voice sounds like she’s so sad and helpless.

Amahle takes a big breath. “That is not all right. You should speak to your father.” 

“I will. Definitely,” she raises her voice, knowing her father is right there. 

“Charlie, have you heard of the Zulu?” 

“Not much. They’re an African tribe, right? They’re Native Africans.” 

Amahle laughs. “That’s an interesting name to call them. They’re Africans. The Zulu are the fiercest and mightiest warrior race that ever was.” 

“Really?” Joy sounds both shocked and excited. 

“Their ferocity and might are legendary. Shaka was one of the best military leaders the world had ever seen. When the White Man came the Zulus fought them. If it wasn’t for the White Man’s guns, Shaka would have easily defeated the White Man. Europe would never have conquered Africa and enslaved so many of its people.” 

Charlie and Joy are silent for a second. 

“Is that the same White Man that killed the Hopi, Charlie?” Joy asks. 

“There were a lot of white men, Joy. Yes. Same kind.”

“When I get my hands on the White Men, I’m going to put them in the Infinite Prison!” 

Charlie groans and Amahle laughs. “Good luck with that, Joy,” Amahle says, sounding like she has a smile on her face.

“Are you a mighty warrior, Amahle?”

Amahle laughs again. “I am just a singer, Joy. Not even a singer. Just trying to be one.” 

There is silence for a few seconds. Then I hear Joy say, “Can I be a Zulu? I want to join!” 

Justin squeezes my hand again.

“You will not be a Zulu, girl,” Amahle’s voice is harsher and less forgiving than before. “And now, I must be going. I have to meet my mother. Come, Elvis. Nice to see you again, Joy, Charlie, Walter.” 

We say our goodbyes and she leaves. 

Joy holds hands with Charlie and Justin, and leads us all out to Charlie’s elevator. When I can finally see her face, once we step out of the elevator and into the tunnel, I can see how disappointed she is that she was not even considered to be a Zulu.

—Told by Grampa Walt