Jessica Hamilton was a 27-year-old white aid worker currently operating in Malawi. She was a pretty white woman with flowing blonde hair and piercing blue eyes. Things were going fine today until her car broke down in the middle of nowhere, and Jessica had to trek on foot to look for help. The sun was beating down on her head as she walked through the African bush. Her phone had no signal, so there was no way of contacting anyone. She was alone with only her wits and survival skills to keep her safe. Not that she had any.

As she came upon a small village, she noticed an old man sitting outside his hut, watching the sunset. He looks like he could be one of the locals, but something about him doesn’t seem right. He called out to her in English as she approached, albeit highly accented. “Come here! Come closer!”

The words reached her desperate ears, and she found herself drawn toward him. She thought about what he wanted: was he going to try and harm her? Or maybe he was going to help her get home? At last, she decided to follow his instructions, walking over to him slowly and cautiously. He smiled at her, revealing long yellow teeth. His eyes have a strange glow to them as they stare into hers. It felt like he knew everything about her, even though she’d never met him before. He held up his hand, beckoning her closer. In her desperation, she felt compelled to obey.

“Hello,” said the old man. “My name is Chikondi. You look like you need help.”

“I do”, She replied, barely disguising her desperation. “I do need help!”

He opened his arms wide and welcomed her into his hut. There was a large wooden table in the centre of the room, surrounded by chairs. A pot of water sat on the stove, bubbling away. The hut smelled of fresh herbs and spices.

Chikondi gestured to a chair next to him. “Sit down. I am going to make us some tea. Would she like some?”

She nodded and took a seat. Chikondi took a kettle from the fire and poured the hot water into two mugs. He then placed them both on the table in front of her.

She sat quietly, sipping her drink. The tea tasted delicious: it had a sweet and fruity flavour with a hint of spice. Chikondi nodded approvingly.

“It’s good, isn’t it?” He asked. “Now tell me, what brings you here? Are you lost?”

Jessica hesitated. Did she trust this man? Finally, she decided that she had no choice.

“Yes, I’m lost,” she said. “I was driving along when my car broke down. I don’t know where I am or how to get back to my hotel.”

“Oh, that’s terrible!” He exclaimed. “I’m so sorry. But why didn’t you use her phone?”

“Well, I had no signal,” she replied. “So I couldn’t call anyone.”

“That makes sense. We have a weak signal in these parts. I can help you. Follow me, please.” He stood up and walked towards the door.

Jessica stood up, too, following him out into the sunshine. She watched as he led her around the side of the hut, towards a small brick building. He opened the door and gestured for her to enter. The room had no flooring, so it was just sand below, and it was mostly empty, other than an impressive statue in the centre of the room. The statue was a powerful depiction of a man carved from stone. The man depicted had solid muscles and wore an animal mask.

Chikondi closed the door behind her and turned to face her. “Do she know who this is?” He asked.

“No,” she replied. “But it must be depicting someone important, right?”

“He is essential,” he replies. “This was the God of my people before the White man brought Jesus. He is Chawantan, our creator and protector. When we prayed to him, he would answer us. Now, nobody prays to him anymore. Instead, they pray to the white man’s God. But I still believe in him. He would provide all that we need if we asked him to.”

Chikondi walked over to the statue and kneeled. He began to pray aloud in Chawan, a language that she didn’t understand a word of. “Lord Chawantan, thank you for bringing me a woman to this place. For years, I have been begging for a wife for my son, a powerful fertile woman who will be a mother to a new generation of our people.”

“What are you saying?” She asked.

“I am praying to Lord Chawantan,” he replied. “To protect you and help you find your home.”

She looked at the statue again. It was a beautiful piece of work, carved from the most delicate stone. However, it must have taken a lot of skill and time to create.

Chikondi continued to pray, his voice soft and low. “Please, Lord Chawantan, give her the strength to bear my grandchild. Give her the body to continue my line and give her the understanding of our culture and our ways. Let her be the wife that my son needs. Let her be the mother that my grandchildren need. Let her be the woman that we so desperately need.”

His prayer went on for a while, and Jessica admired how the words sounded. It was interesting sounding language to her, quite different to anything she had heard before. Finally, the man turns to her.

“Now, before we get you to your car, I want you to stay here and pray to Chawantan for a little bit.”

“Pray to him?” She asked, a little taken aback. “But I don’t speak the language!”

“That’s fine,” he replied. “Just close your eyes and pray in English. It doesn’t matter which language you use, just as long as you are sincere.”

She didn’t want to offend the old man and agreed to do so.

“Now, I will leave you alone with Chawantan,” Chikondi said. “If you need anything, just call out, and I’ll come back to help you.”

She nodded, and he left the room. She walked over to the statue and stared at it. Jessica wondered what she should say? How could she pray to someone she doesn’t even know? Then, she glanced around the room. There is nothing else in there apart from the statue. So, she decided to close her eyes and begin praying. She just wanted to say something, anything, to Chawantan.

“Lord, I don’t know if you exist. I don’t know if you are listening. I’m sorry if I am wasting your time. I don’t mean to offend you. But I am lost, and I don’t know where I am. Please, guide me to my home.”

She felt silly speaking to a statue like this, but she kept going anyway. Finally, after a few minutes, she stopped. She realised that she had been talking to the air for a long time. She opened her eyes and looked around the room. Nothing had changed. It looked the same as it did before she started praying. But then she heard a voice, a loud and booming voice.

“Welcome, foreign child,” a deep male voice boomed. “I am Lord Chawantan. I have heard your prayers, and I shall answer them.”

She jumped back in shock and then began looking around the room. No one was there. The only thing in the room was the statue of Chawantan.

“What is…?” She trailed off. “Where are you?”

The statue spoke again, his voice booming in her ears. “I am Lord Chawantan, God of the Chawan people. I am the creator of all things here. I am the protector of my people. I am the father of my people. I am the husband of my people. I am the brother of my people. And I am the grandfather of my people!”

Her heart pounded in her chest, and she thought about this surely not being real? It couldn’t be. It had to be some kind of trick, or maybe a dream? But then the statue spoke again.

“Are you ready to see your home?”

She swallowed hard. She didn’t know what to say. Could she really trust a statue? She really was that desperate, so she took a step towards the statue.

“Yes,” she whispered. “I am ready!”

The voice laughed. “Good girl,” he said. “Then come closer to me and let me show you your home!”

She walked up to the statue. She felt her heart beating faster and faster. Her breathing became heavier. As she got closer to the statue, she could make out the features of its animal mask. It was a lion’s face, a strong, powerful beast. The nose was pointed, the mouth wide and filled with sharp teeth.

“You are in her home now,” the statue said. “This is where you belong. This is where you will live for the rest of her life!”

She felt confused. “No,” she replied. “I don’t think I am. This is not my home.”

The statue laughed. “Of course it is,” he said. “It’s yours, your family’s, your ancestors’ home!”

She shook her head. “You are so wrong!” She shouted. “I was born in America. My parents were American.!”

She got the impression that the statue was somehow smiling. “My child,” he said. “This is your home now. You are part of the Chawan people now. This is where you belong. Let me teach you, step by step.”

Her confusion increasingly turned to fear. There was something terrible and ancient about the statue in front of her.

“Take off your clothes!” He shouted. “Take off everything! Strip naked and stand before me!”

She gasped in shock. “What?” She cried. “I’ll never do that!”

The voice laughed again. “You have no choice! Do you really think you can disobey!?”

She looked down at her body. She was wearing a thin white t-shirt, a pair of blue jeans, some hiking boots alongside a large sunhat and sunglasses. She felt her whole body move unwillingly. First, she shook off her hat and sunglasses before pulling the t-shirt over her head and throwing it to the floor. She kicked off the boots and slipped her socks off, discarding both. Then she unbuttoned her jeans and slid them down her legs. She kicked them aside. Her underwear was next. She quickly removed her bra and panties, throwing them on top of the pile of her clothes.

She stood there, naked. She felt her cheeks burn red with embarrassment. She covered herself with her hands. “Please,” she begged. “How are you making me do this?”

The voice once again laughed, this time with an evil-sounding cackle. “Do not fear, child,” he said. “This is a good thing. You are free from your old life now. Free from your old clothes and your old ways. Now you can begin anew. Start fresh. Start here!”

She looked up at the statue. She didn’t know what to say. She felt ashamed and embarrassed. She wanted to run away, but she couldn’t move.

“Your body is shameful,” the statue said. “Your foreign appearance displeases me. Your yellow hair and blue eyes are an abomination!”

She gasped. “How could you say that?” She cried. “How can my body be so displeasing to you? What is so bad about my body?” She wanted to cry.

The statue laughs. “Your body is weak,” he said. “It is frail and useless. It does not belong here. It is an abomination and should not exist”

She felt her heart pounding in her chest. She wanted to run, she so desperately wanted to run, but a power held her in that spot.

“First, let us deal with your skin. It’s white and weak against the sun. I decree that it blackens and turns dark brown. Your hair will turn a deep shade of black too. Your eyes will change color. They will become darker and more intense. You will be beautiful. You will be a perfect representation of our people!”

She feels her face flush with anger. “No!” She shouted. “You can’t do this to me!”

“You have no choice,” he said. “Now change! Change your body. Change your looks. Make yourself into a Chawan woman!”

She felt her heart pounding in her chest. Then, she felt a burning sensation on the soles of her feet, as though the sand is suddenly red hot. She pulled her left foot up to see what was happening and gasped in shock. She saw that the sole of her foot was now a deep brown. She looked at the sole of her right foot also and saw the same thing had happened there.

“I command it!” The statue repeated. “Change your skin! Change your hair! Change your eye color! Do it now!” Jessica could only watch in horror as the brown skin tone traveled up from the soles of her feet. The color spread rapidly across her calves, thighs and hips. Next, it went up to her stomach and breasts. Finally, reaching her neck and face, covering her forehead and cheeks. Her hair turned black, and her straight hair became curly afro hair.

“Stop!” She screamed. “Please stop! Please!”

The statue ignored her. “This new color pleases me, but your body is still weak and not suitable to raise many strong children.” The statue’s voice becomes softer. “You need to strengthen your body. To grow bigger. So she can give birth to healthy babies. Big strong boys and girls.”

She felt a sudden burning sensation on her chest and belly. Her nipples hardened and grew larger. Her breasts swelled and grew heavier. They became rounder and firmer. Her belly swelled and became rounder.

“Stop!” She cried again. “Please, I’ll do anything!”

The statue ignored her. “Let us work on your hips. Your legs and thighs. We will need them to be thicker. Stronger. Harder!”

She felt her muscles tighten, and her body begins to grow. She felt her hips widen. Her legs and thighs become thicker and stronger. Her body grew taller too. Her feet and toes lengthened slightly.

“Better,” the statue said. “Much better. But your face doesn’t look like it belongs here. Your face must change next!”

“Why are you doing this to me? Why are you forcing me to change?” She shouted desperately.

The statue ignores her again. “Your nose is too small and delicate; you will need a big strong nose like the women of my tribe. A wide flat nose with nostrils that flare outwards.”

She felt a burning sensation on her nose. Her face changes shape. It became wider and flatter. Her nostrils flared outwards.

“Good!” The statue said. “But your eyes still don’t fit. Your eyes are too small. Too weak. You need to have large dark eyes like mine. Eyes that can see far into the distance.”

She felt a burning sensation on her eyelids. Her eyes swell and grow. They become larger and darker.

“Even better,” the statue said. “So much better still! But now, let us work on your lips. Let’s make them big and full. Like a woman’s lips should be”

She felt a burning sensation on her lips. Her mouth became bigger as her lips became much larger and plumper.

“Perfect!” The statue said. “You look like a proper Chawan woman now. You are perfect.”

She stood there in silence for a moment, unsure what to do. Then her emotions boiled outwards.

“Change me back, change me back right fucking now! I will never be a member of her people! Never! I hate you! I hate all of you!”

She felt her body tremble. She felt her eyes fill with tears. She sobbed uncontrollably.

“You are angry,” the statue said. “So, I will not punish you like a woman who so unwomanly deserves. We shall deal with your anger another time. Right now, we have other things to do.”

“More?” Jessica asked weakly.

“Yes. First, I am sick of hearing this foreign tongue!” The statue shouted. “I command you to speak our language. Speak it now!”

She felt a burning sensation on her lips. She felt her mouth stretch open. Her tongue moves, and words come pouring out of her mouth. Words that sounded strange to her but must have made sense to the statue.

“You are speaking my language,” the statue said. “Excellent. You really are making progress. But now, you must also learn to understand it.”

She felt a burning sensation in her ears. She heard the statue’s voice, and now she could hear his words clearly. She could tell he was speaking Chawan and was able to understand him.”

“Do you understand me?” the statue asked. “Yes or no?”

She nodded her head. “Yes.”

“Good,” the statue said. “Now that you speak with our tongue and hear with our ears, it is time to learn more about us. About our people. Our customs and traditions. You will need to know these things if you are to be one of us.”

She felt a burning sensation on her forehead. She felt the statue’s thoughts entering her mind. He was telling her stories of his people. Stories of their customs and traditions. Of how they live and how they behave. She felt something else too. She felt love, so much love flowing into her from the statue. She tried to resist it, but it kept pouring into her. Pouring and pouring, she couldn’t even begin to resist it.

“Our women have a very special place in our society,” the statue told her. “They are given great respect by all men. They are the ones who bring life into the world. Their bodies are strong and powerful. Their minds are sharp and wise. They are the ones who keep our families secure. Who keeps our tribes strong and united.”

She felt a rushing sensation in her heart. She felt so much love for the statue. So much love for his people, no, her people. For her people’s ways. She loved them all so much that she wanted to cry tears of love.

“My people believe that all women are sacred,” the statue continued. “All women have the power to give birth. To create life and to protect our people from evil spirits. All women are equal in the eyes of our gods. We revere them as goddesses.”

She felt a burning sensation on her hands. She felt a desire to touch the statue. She reached out and touched the animal mask. The stone felt warm and smooth.

“I… I want to learn more about our people,” she said, the Chawan language easily slipping out of her mouth now. “I want to learn everything there is to know about us!”

“You will,” the statue said. “We have much to teach you. Much to share with you. But first, you must show me that you are worthy of my people. That you are worthy of being one of us.”

“What must I do?” She asked. She so desperately needed to become one of them and keep feeling the love of the statue.

“There is only one way to prove herself,” the statue said. “Only one test of her worthiness”

She felt her heart pounding. She felt a deep and intense emotion welling up inside her.

“What must I do?” She asked again.

“You must prove your love for me,” the statue replied. “You must prove that you are willing to die for me. Willing to lay down your life for the tribe.”

A knife suddenly fell down in front of her. It landed on the ground just in front of her brown toes. A large and deadly knife.

“Take this knife,” the statue said. “Use it to kill yourself. Do it now!”

She took the knife in her hand. She looked at it. She could never use such a thing. Or could she? Could she really kill herself with it? Would she do it? She felt the love again, so much love for her people, her culture, and her future children.

She raised the knife over her head. She aimed it at her throat. She took a deep breath.

“I love you,” she said to the statue. “I love you so much. I would do anything for you.”

She brought the knife down. She plunged it into her neck. She felt the blade sink in. Blood began to pour out of her. She couldn’t even begin to stop the flow. She fell to the floor, dying.

***

She woke up in an unknown bed. She looked around and saw that she was in a small room. There was one door and one window and little else. It was nighttime.

“Hello?” She called out.

No answer.

“Hello?” She tried again.

Still no answer.

She got out of bed and walked over to the window. Outside she saw the little brick shack where the statue was. She remembered what happened last night. She remembered stabbing herself. She remembered the statue’s test.

“Did I pass?” She asked herself.

She noticed her reflection in the window. She examined herself closely. She was still naked, and her dark skin showed clearly. So did her African features, her brown eyes, wide nose, and black afro hair. She looked like she belonged here. Like she was born here. She realised she was thinking in the Chawan language. She was not sure if she could speak English now, but she didn’t even feel the need to try.

She looked back outside. The statue must still be there. She wondered if Chawantan was watching her right now. Was he pleased with her?

It’s then that she heard a knock on the door. She turned around and stared at the closed door.

“Who is it?” She asked.

The door opened. A figure stepped inside, holding an electric lamp that illuminates the whole room in a pale blue light.

“I’m here to help.” said the figure in Chawan. It turns out to be a tall and handsome Chawan man. He looks a lot like the old man she first met there, only much younger.

“I am Chikondi’s son, Chifundo,” he said. “I heard you needed help.”

He placed the electric lamb on the bed and smiled at her, meeting her eyes. He has an intense pair of almost-orange eyes.

“I’m not sure if I need help…” She said weakly.

“Well, let’s start by you telling me your name,” he said.

“My name is…” She first wanted to say Jessica but she knew that was not right… not anymore. That was when she heard the voice of the statue one last time.

“You killed your old self. You passed the test.” He said. “Your name is now Masiye, and you are truly one of us!”

Chifundo clearly could not hear the voice and was waiting expectantly for her answer.

“I am called Masiye,” she said. She felt so much love and happiness. She knew she had passed the test. She was Chawan. She belonged there and knew what she must do.

“Come close to me, Chifundo,” said Masiye. “I have something to tell you.” He approached her, and she put her arms around him. She held him tightly and kissed him. They kissed passionately for several minutes. When they finally broke apart, both were breathing heavily.

“I want you,” said Masiye. “I want to make love to you.”

“I want you too,” said Chifundo. “I want to make love to you right now!” He started to pull his clothes off.

Masiye smiles and puts her hand on his muscular black chest. She pushed him to the bed and then fell on top of him. She reached down and took his erect cock in her hands. He was giant by any standard other than Chawan, where all the men were a good enough size to please their women. She gently guided his cock into her pussy. She hadn’t realised how wet she was. She moaned as she felt the head of his cock enter deep inside her.

“Oh god,” she cried out.

“Yes,” he replied. “Just like that. Just like that. Yes!”

She rode him slowly, feeling a little uncomfortable from his size but also knowing a good Chawan woman must bare it. His fingers played with her nipples while she rode him. She loved the feeling of being fucked by such a big Chawan cock.

“Fuck me harder,” she said.

He did just that, first pulling out, easily flipping her onto her back and quickly pushing his cock deep inside again. Then, he began pounding her pussy as if he owned it.

“Oh yes, fuck me!” She yelled. “Fill me up! Fill me up with your cum!” She knew all the traditions of their people now; she knew what it meant to have a man not pull out.

“Yes, take my cum and become my wife!” He shouts.

He thrusts hard and fast, fucking her tight pussy until he came. Then, finally, he shot his load deep inside her, filling her womb with his seed. As he did this, Masiye felt herself starting to orgasm. Her body filled with a white-hot ecstasy. Her body shook uncontrollably as she came.

“Oh god, oh god, oh god!” She screamed

“Yes,” said Chifundo. “Yes, you’re mine now. I will never leave you. We are going to have many children together.”

“Yes, you are my husband! My husband!” She screamed.

***

It’s been three years since Masiye had prayed to the statue of Chawantan. In that time, she had wholly submerged herself in Chawan culture, so that her old life was barely a memory of a dream. She had become a delightful wife to Chifundo and a mother to two beautiful children. She had given birth to a boy named Fungai and a girl named Mufaro. She had also become pregnant with another child.

Masiye went to the market every day to buy food and supplies for her family. As she travelled, she sometimes came to where her car had broken down that day three years ago. When there, she thanked Chawantan he had brought her there, thanked him for making her a happy Chawan woman. She knew that he was watching over her and her family. She smiled.