“Club?” he asked, frowning very deeply at Chichi.
“Want some tea?” Chichi quickly asked.
“Sure,” he said, slowly sitting on a stack of books.
She went out to the back, leaving Sunny and Orlu to just look at each other. Sunny wanted to break the awkward silence, so she said the first thing that popped into her head. “Orlu, can you really ‘undo things’?”
Without hesitation, Orlu turned to the back door and shouted, “Chichi!”
“What?” she shouted back.
“Get in here,” he said.
“What?” Sunny asked. “Did I say something—”
Chichi came stomping in. “Don’t speak to me in that tone, Orlu.”
“Ah-ah, why is your mouth so big?” Orlu shouted. “Can’t you . . .” He pressed his lips together. “Is your mother still home?”
“No,” she said, looking at her feet. Sunny frowned. It was a rare thing for Chichi to not yell back at someone.
The three of them were silent. Sunny looked uncomfortably from Orlu to Chichi and back to Orlu. Orlu glared at Chichi and Chichi looked at the ceiling. Then Orlu slapped his knee hard and said, “Explain, Chichi! Why?”
“No,” Sunny screeched. “You explain, Orlu! We’re supposed to be friends. Tell me and then you can tell her off!”
“It’s none of your—” He turned back to Chichi. “Are you stupid? Just because you’re alone with your thousand and one secrets doesn’t mean we all have to be! I chose not to be that! And I know how to keep secrets!”
“We won’t lose Sunny as a friend. Trust me. Let her in,” Chichi said. “Look at her!”
“So? Her being albino doesn’t mean anything! It’s just her medical condition. Everyone has their own physical quirks!”
“Not in this case. Even my mom thinks so,” Chichi retorted.
“Wait!” Sunny yelled loudly enough that they both jumped. “Shut up and wait! Tell me what is going on!”
Orlu and Chichi looked at each other for a long moment. Then Orlu sighed and said, “Fine.” He pulled a piece of white chalk from his pocket. “Only this way,” he said when Chichi started to protest. “No other way. We have to be sure.”
Chichi loudly sucked her teeth and looked away. “You should tell her first. If she’s such a good friend, you should trust her.”
“This isn’t about trust,” he said, as he picked up book after book. He chose one that was bound in leather. On the back, he used the chalk to draw:
Oddly, the chalk drew clearly on the book’s smooth leather surface. He muttered something and shaded in the center of the circle. Around the circle and lines he quickly scribbled a series of symbols that looked like the kind of things Americans would get tattooed on their biceps and ankles.
“That’s pretty good,” Chichi said, impressed.
“Mark it,” he grumbled, ignoring her.
Chichi pressed her thumb to the shaded circle. When she brought her thumb up, it was coated with white chalk.
“You do the same thing, Sunny,” Orlu said, his voice softening.
“What is it?” she asked.
“If you want to know anything, you have to do this first.”
Sunny had never seen juju performed but she knew it when she saw it. “My mother says this kind of thing is evil,” she quietly said.
“No disrespect, but your mother doesn’t know much about juju,” Orlu replied. “Trust me.”
Still, she hesitated. In the end, her curiosity got the better of her, the way it always did—especially after what she had seen in the candle flame. Quickly, before she could think too hard about it, she pressed her thumb to the same place Chichi had pressed hers. Orlu did the same. Then he took out a blade the size of his hand. Chichi hissed. “Is this necessary?” she asked, irritated.
“I want it to be strong,” he said.
“You barely know how,” Chichi said.
He ignored her and touched the knife to his tongue. He winced, but that was it. Carefully, he handed the knife to Chichi. She paused, pursing her lips. Then she did the same and handed the knife to Sunny.
“Handle it with care,” Orlu said.
“You want me to . . .” There was blood on the knife. Thoughts of AIDS, hepatitis, and every other disease she’d learned about in school and from her mother rushed through her head. She barely knew Chichi, or Orlu, really.
“Yeah,” he said. “But once you do it, you can’t turn back.”
“From what?”
“You won’t know unless you do it,” Chichi said with a smirk.
Sunny couldn’t take it anymore. She looked at the knife. She took a deep breath. “Okay.”
She cut with the part of the blade that was free of blood. The knife was so sharp! She barely had to touch the thing to her tongue. But, goodness, it stung! She wondered if it was coated with some kind of chemical because suddenly everything around her looked funny.
“I hope you know what you’re doing,” she heard Chichi tell Orlu.
“We’ll see,” Orlu mumbled. They both looked intently at Sunny.
“What’s happening?” she whispered.
Nothing was changing—but everything was. The room was as it was, the books, Orlu and Chichi, her schoolbag beside her. Outside she could hear a car passing by. But everything was . . . different. It was like reality was blossoming, opening and then opening some more. More of everything, but all was the same.
“You . . . you see it?” Orlu said, his eyes wide.
“Make it stop,” Sunny said.
“See!” Chichi said. “I was right!”
“Oh, stop,” Orlu snapped. “You don’t know for sure. She could just be sensitive.”
But Chichi looked very smug.
“Do you solemnly swear on the people you hold dearest, on the things dearest to you, that you will never speak of what I am about to tell you to anyone on the outside?” Orlu asked.
“Outside of what?” Sunny shrieked. She just wanted it to stop.
“Just swear,” he said.
She’d have sworn anything. “I swear.” Before she could get the second word out of her mouth, it all stopped, settled, grew still, normal.
Chichi got up, took the empty cups of tea, and walked out. Sunny looked down at the book. The markings had disappeared. She could still taste blood in her mouth.
“Okay, so ask and I’ll tell you whatever you want to know,” Orlu said.
A thousand things were flying through Sunny’s head. “Just tell me.”
“Tell you what?”
She groaned, exasperated. “What’d we just do?”
“We gave our word,” he said. “That was a trust knot. It will prevent you from telling anyone about any of this, not even your family. I couldn’t tell you anything if we didn’t make one.”
“Chichi would have,” she said.
“Well, I’m glad you didn’t ask her. She doesn’t do what she’s supposed to. We’d have all been in terrible trouble if you let things slip after she told you.”
“Let what slip?”
Orlu clasped his hands together. “Chichi and I,” he began, “and our parents are—”
“Don’t bother telling her like that,” Chichi said, coming back in. She was carrying a tray with three fresh cups of tea on it. “She’s ignorant.”
“Hey, no, I’m not.”
“Plus, she understands things better when you show her,” Chichi said. “I know her some.”
Orlu shook his head. “No, too early.”
“Not really,” Chichi said. “But tell her about what you can do, first.”
Orlu looked at Sunny, then looked down and sighed. “I can’t believe this.” He seemed to gather himself together. “It’s hard to explain,” he said. “I can undo bad things, bad . . . juju. It’s like an instinct. I didn’t have to learn how.”
“Isn’t all juju bad?” she asked.
“No,” her friends both said.
“It’s like anything else: some good, some bad, some j
ust is,” Chichi said.
“So you all are—witches, or something?”
They laughed. “I guess,” Orlu said. “Here in Nigeria, we call ourselves Leopard People. Back in the day, there were powerful groups called the ekpe, Leopard societies. The name stuck.”
Sunny couldn’t deny what she’d seen. The world had done a weird blossoming thing, and though it had stopped, she still felt it with her. She knew it could happen again. And what about the candle?
“Chichi can remember things if she sees them,” Orlu said, “so her head is full of all sorts of juju. See all these books, ask her to recite a paragraph from a certain page and she can.”
Sunny slowly got up.
“Are you all right?” Orlu asked.
“This is—I don’t—I . . . I think I need to go home,” she said. She felt ill.
“Do you have anything this weekend?” Chichi quickly asked.
Sunny slowly shook her head as she picked up her schoolbag.
“Tomorrow’s Saturday,” Chichi said. “Come here in the morning, like around nine A.M. Make room for the whole day.”
“To . . . to do what?” Sunny asked, clutching her schoolbag. She stepped toward the door.
“Just come,” Chichi said.
Sunny nodded, and got out of there as fast as she could.
What Is Chittim?
Chittim is the currency of Leopard People. Chittim are always made of metal (copper, bronze, silver, and gold) and always shaped like curved rods. The most valuable are the large copper ones, which are about the size of an orange and thick as an adult’s thumb. The smallest ones are the size of a dove’s egg. Least valuable are chittim made of gold.
When chittim fall, they never do harm. So one can stand in a rain of chittim and never get hit. There is only one way to earn chittim: by gaining knowledge and wisdom. The smarter you become, the better you process knowledge into wisdom, the more chittim will fall and thus the richer you will be. As a free agent, don’t expect to get rich.
from Fast Facts for Free Agents
3
Initiative
When Sunny got home, everything seemed normal. She kicked a soccer ball around with her brothers. She easily stole the ball and wove between them with her fast feet, and because they found this annoying, they talked rubbish about how she looked like a white girl. Her mother, who was home early, made spicy red stew with chicken. Her father came home late and ate alone as he read his newspaper. Not once did the world bloom or shift.
But goodness, she was tired. Exhausted. She tried to read a few pages of Purple Hibiscus, a book she’d begged her mother to buy, but soon she fell asleep. She slept like the dead. When morning came, she felt better. She lay there thinking about what happened yesterday. Whatever Chichi and Orlu had done to her, she would open her mind to it, she decided. Why not?
She quickly dressed in jeans, a yellow T-shirt, leather sandals, and her favorite gold necklace. It was the only costly gift her father had ever given her.
“Be back by four o’clock,” her mother said during breakfast. Sunny was surprised that her mother hadn’t asked a whole bunch of questions. She quickly got up before her luck changed.
“Where are you going?” her brother Chukwu asked.
“Out,” she said. “’Bye.”
In one hand, she carried her black umbrella. In the other was her blue purse with a stick of lip gloss, some sunscreen, a washcloth, a mango, her cell phone, and enough money for lunch and a little whatever.
“Sunny!” Chichi yelled when she saw her coming up the street. Chichi was dressed up, at least by Chichi’s standards. She wore a green rapa with yellow circles on it and a white T-shirt. She was wearing sandals, too. Sunny raised a tentative hand in greeting.
“Oh, stop,” Chichi said. “Relax.” She linked her arm in Sunny’s and they walked toward Orlu’s house. He stood at the gate.
“Good morning,” she said.
“Nice shoes,” Chichi said, looking at Orlu’s brand-new red Chuck Taylors.
“My mother’s brother is visiting from London,” he said. “He brought me these.”
“So where are we going?” Sunny asked.
Chichi and Orlu exchanged a look.
“You told your parents you’ll be back around three?” Orlu asked her.
“Four,” she said proudly.
“Well done,” Chichi said, grinning.
“I asked my mother about this,” Orlu said to Chichi. “She was really angry with me for making that trust knot with Sunny.” Here we go again, thought Sunny. More things I don’t know. More of them not telling me anything.
“Sunny has to be involved,” Chichi said, looking annoyed. “I told you what my mother said.”
“Well,” Orlu said slowly. “I asked my parents. She can’t set foot in Leopard Knocks . . . unless she’s fully initiated.” Chichi tried to hide a smile. “Chichi, you knew this was the rule!”
“I did,” she said, laughing. “What better way to make her get initiated?”
“But . . .” Orlu tapered off, looking very angry.
Sunny had had enough. “All right, you guys, start explaining. Leopard Knocks? Initiation? What’s going on?”
Orlu only shook his head. Chichi took Sunny’s arm again. “Just come and see for yourself.”
“As if she has a choice now,” Orlu snapped. “As if any of us does now.”
“Orlu, I believe she’s one of us,” Chichi said. “My mom does, too.”
“Would you want to go through something like this without knowing anything?” he asked Chichi.
Chichi only shrugged. “It’s the only way.”
Sunny groaned. “Please, quit talking like I’m not right here.”
Chichi lowered her voice. “The worst that can happen is—”
“Is what?” Sunny shouted.
“We can never talk to you again and you can never speak of any of this.”
They started walking away without her. For a moment, Sunny just stood there, watching them go. Then she collected herself and followed.
“Where’re we going?” she asked after several minutes. “Just tell me that, if nothing else.”
“To the hut of Anatov, Defender of Frogs and All Things Natural,” Chichi said.
They caught a cab on the main street.
“Take us to Ariaria Market,” Orlu said, handing the man some naira. Orlu waved Sunny off when she tried to offer some money. “No, this is on me.”
It was a typical Nigerian cab—the car reeked of dried fish, egusi seeds, and exhaust. There were big holes in the floor. The three of them got out at the market, but didn’t go in. Instead, they crossed the busy street and went in the opposite direction. They walked for a while, passing buildings and avoiding hawkers selling cashew fruits, suya, phone cards, cell phone accessories, and plantain chips.
They turned a corner and walked, turned another corner and walked. Sunny knew the area, but now she felt lost. They stopped at a small path that led into a patch of lush bush. A group of older men were just emerging. Some of them wore old jeans and shirts, others wore colorful rapas and T-shirts.
“Good morning,” Orlu, Chichi, and Sunny said together.
The men looked each of them in the eye and nodded. “Good morning, children.”
“Do you know where you’re going?” one of them asked.
“Yes, sir,” Orlu said.
“No, I mean her,” the man said, pointing at Sunny. She felt her face grow warm.
“She’s with us,” Chichi said.
This seemed to satisfy him, and he moved on with the others.
“Where are we going?” Sunny asked as they walked down the shaded path. The bush seemed to close in around them. Where it had been hot, it was now sweltering.
“I told you,” Chichi said. “To see Anatov.”
“Yeah, but who is he?” She stopped walking. “Chichi, Orlu, stop.” She hoisted up her purse, her closed umbrella under her arm. “What’s going on? Where are we going? What’s h
appening?”
They both looked uncomfortable.
“Anatov will explain, Sunny,” Orlu finally said.
“It’s easier that way,” Chichi said. “Just trust us.”
“Why?”
“Because we’re your friends,” Orlu said.
“And we’ve changed your life . . . maybe,” Chichi said. Then she looked away. “Just let Anatov explain.”
They started walking again.
“Is he mean?” Sunny asked. The path had narrowed and they were walking single file, Sunny last. She heard Orlu laugh to himself.
“Anatov is Anatov,” Chichi said, turning around and grinning.
Great, Sunny thought. Some friends. Not telling me a thing. For all she knew, they could have been accomplices working with Black Hat Otokoto. Anything is possible. Even the worst is possible. The candle showed me so. The worst was more than possible. The worst was inevitable. But she was in too deep now. Her parents didn’t know where she was—she didn’t even know where she was! She slapped at a mosquito on her arm.
Sunny heard it before she saw it. At first, it sounded like a bunch of people softly whispering, yet she saw nothing but forest. Minutes later, the noise grew to the sound of crashing water. It was a river so angry that its churning waters threw up a white mist. Never heard of this river, she thought. Stretching across it was a thin, slippery-looking wooden bridge. There were no handrails.
“How is anyone supposed to cross that?” she asked, horrified.
“You just do it,” Orlu said, stepping up to a large rock that sat in front of the bridge. He rubbed its smooth black surface with the palm of his hand. “Beyond the mist is the entrance to Leopard Knocks.”
She waited for him to go on.
“The full name is Ngbe Abum Obbaw, that’s Efik for ‘Leopard Knocks His Foot,’” Chichi explained. “Long ago, some Efik woman created a juju that stopped a leopard from attacking her. It made the leopard stub its foot on something hard, and the pain scared it away. The builders named Leopard Knocks His Foot after her strong juju. The Efik people have the strongest juju in the world.”
“In whose opinion? Not the Igbos’,” Orlu said irritably. “Sunny, there are Leopard People all over the world from every tribe, race, whatever. None is better than the other.”