Do you have any idea what it's like to genuinely feel afraid of death after existing for thousands of years as a nigh-invincible Immortal? Welcome to my life. My name is Makeda, although I go back by Mark Cedars these days. Even after walking the earth for many centuries, I am still in awe of what modern man can come up with. That's why I'm studying civil engineering at Carleton University in the City of Ottawa, Ontario. I like to know how things work.
Anyone looking at me would see a six-foot-one, lean and athletic young man with medium brown skin and curly black hair, whose features are a blend of African and Arabian. I often get mistaken for Ethiopian or Somali these days, but I'm actually much older than these fascinating Northeast African nations.
Indeed, truth be told I'm old enough to remember when the motherland of Africa was home to many great nations. I journeyed the Earth at a time when European and Asian powers were small in number, considerably less advanced than they are now, and warred among themselves constantly. In other words, I'm ancient, I simply don't look like it, thank you very much.
I was born in the City of Kerma, Kingdom of Kush, in 920 B.C. During the reign of the great King Aserkamani the Magnificent, last of the Cushitic Kings of Kerma. The realm I once called home encompasses much of today's Sudan, and parts of Egypt. Indeed, my father Khratan was a Cushite and my mother Tanithia came from Phoenicia, a mighty empire encompassing much of Lebanon, Palestine, Israel and Syria. Hailing from such unique descent, I will forever be the son of two worlds.
"Mark, snap out of it, my dude, class is over," the voice snatching me out of my reveries belongs to Justin Keogh, a young Irishman I met during Orientation Day at Carleton, two years ago. I look at the short, plump, ginger-headed youth and resist the temptation to smack him upside his head. Justin is a friend, and one of a few mortals to know my secret.
"Cool your jets, ginger, I heard you the first time," I reply, and I nonchalantly brush his hand from my shoulder. Our class is emptying faster than dot-com stock, and I can see a look of disappointment on the face of Professor James Etienne, a stocky, fortysomething Haitian guy in a tacky dark gray suit. Dude is probably the only black faculty member in the school's engineering programmes. I flash him an apologetic smile, and Professor Etienne rolls his eyes.
"Mr. Cedars, if learning about Thermodynamics and Heating Transfers bores you, may I suggest you take something easier, like Engineering 101," Professor Etienne says in a sharp tone, and I bristle slightly, taking umbrage more with his tone than his words. It's not easy being an old man in a young man's body. I often struggle to get the respect that I deserve. Not that I suffer fools, mind you. It's just that when people assume you're a young pup, they don't always take you seriously. Or they patronize you, which sucks.
"Sounds good, see you next week, sir," I reply flippantly and Justin shakes his head. We exit the Minto Building together, and I walk toward the University Center building. It houses the school's largest cafeteria, and I for one am famished. Justin follows me, and I can sense the disapproval rolling off of him in waves. I ignore it, but my buddy can't take the hint.
"Mac, I realize you are probably old enough to remember when engineering was invented, but there's no need to antagonize Professor Etienne like that," Justin says, and I nod and smile, hoping he'll shut up. It's one thirty in the afternoon, and I want to eat some Shawarma. Hopefully the lineup in the cafeteria isn't too long. I've got a thing for Lebanese beef sandwiches, and when I get a craving for them, I've got no choice but to satisfy it.
