Akata Warrior

  Now, as she looked at the thin book with thick cream-colored pages and maroon, almost jellylike symbols that wiggled and sometimes rotated, shrank, and stretched, she relaxed. She sighed.

  “It will come,” she whispered. She relaxed more. Her heartbeat slowed. She had other homework to do. Nsibidi was her friend, not a lion to tame or anything else to beat into submission. She was about to go get something to eat. Her stomach felt empty, though she had just eaten dinner.

  “Sunny,” she heard someone softly whisper.

  When she looked at her book, she felt cool, soft hands press her cheeks to steady her head.

  “Hold,” the voice said.

  Everything dropped. Away.

  Nothing but the whispering symbols.

  Oral and written words combined.

  There was warmth on her face, like sunshine.

  Sunshine now, not before her initiation into the Ekpe society. The Leopard society. The sunshine didn’t burn.

  She walked along a path, wild jungle to her left, wild jungle to her right. Drums beat but she could hear Sugar Cream’s voice clearly; Sunny saw the symbols dancing before her when Sugar Cream called them, burrowing into the dirt when spoken, swirling into a tornadolike cycle when uttered.

  “This book’s titled Nsibidi: The Magical Language of the Spirits. But this book is tricky. Like me, it shape-shifts. It goes by another name, an inside name for those who can read it. Trickster: My Life and My Lessons, by Sugar Cream, is its inside name, its true name. This book is a part of me. It is wonderful that you are here and you are hearing. It is good.”

  Sugar Cream went on to tell/show Sunny that this jungle was where she grew up. She was introducing an old fluffy baboon from a clan that she called the Idiok when Sunny suddenly came back to herself. She had to blink several times to get her eyes and mind to focus. There was knocking at the door, and she glanced at her cell phone’s time. Two hours had passed! She’d turned one page.

  “Sunny?” her mother called again. Sunny tensed up. No one in her family knew a thing about a thing. They could not, by both juju and Leopard law. Among many other issues, this sometimes made reading the Nsibidi book difficult. Her mother knocked on the door. “What are you doing in there?”

  Chink, chink, chink, chink! Ten heavy copper chittim fell onto the floor in front of Sunny’s bed. The Leopard currency dropped whenever knowledge was earned, and these were the most prized kind. Shaped like curved rods, chittim came in many sizes and could be made of copper, bronze, silver, or gold—copper being the most valuable and gold being the least. No one knew who dropped them or why they never injured anyone when they fell.

  Sunny jumped up and quickly grabbed the chittim and piled them in her purse. Yes, she’d learned something big, and she knew she could look into the book and “hear” Nsibidi in the same way again. “Wow,” she whispered, putting her heavy purse beside her, the chittim inside clinking loudly. The pain in her belly hit her then, and she doubled over. Hunger, but a terrible aggressive hunger. She cleared her throat and tried to sound normal. “I’m just studying, Mom.”

  Her mother tried to open the door. “Why is the door locked, then?”

  Sunny dragged herself to the edge of her bed. She placed her feet on the cool floor. “Sorry, Mom,” she said, forcing herself to stand.

  When she opened the door, her mother stared at her for a long time. She searched Sunny’s face, sniffing the room, listening for anything, anything at all. Sunny knew the routine. The unspoken between her and her mother increased every single day. But the love remained, too. So it was okay. “I’m . . . I’m okay, Mom,” Sunny stammered. She smiled the most fake smile ever.

  “Are you sure?” her mother whispered. Sunny wrapped her arms around her. At thirteen and a half, Sunny was as tall as her mother’s five foot eight.

  “Yes, Mom,” she said. “Just studying . . . really hard.”

  “It’s ten o’clock. You should get ready for bed.” Her mother glanced over Sunny’s shoulder at the book on her bed that was not a textbook.

  “I will,” Sunny said. “After I eat something.”

  “But you just ate dinner.”

  “I know. But I’m hungry again, I guess. A little.”

  “Okay, o,” her mother sighed. “There’s plenty of leftover plantain.”

  Sunny grinned. “Perfect.” She could never eat enough fried, juicy, sweet, scrumptious yummies. When she finished, she brushed her teeth again and returned to her room. She shut off her light, fell back into bed, and was asleep within thirty seconds. Five minutes later, she was dreaming about the end of the world . . .

  The city was burning so furiously it looked like a city of smoke. She witnessed it from above the lush green forest. She was flying. But she was not a bird. What was she? Who am I? she wondered.

  It was always like this here. She could smell it as she rushed toward the burning city. She did not smell smoke, however. The wind must have been tumbling away from her. She smelled flowers, instead. Sweetness, as if the trees below were seeding the air with pollen.

  She tried to stop, but the force that she was riding wanted to go toward the city. She was a mind in a body that had other plans. There were spiraling edifices. Smaller structures on the ground, bulbous like giant smoky eggs. All of it undulated with smoke. This was the end. Was this Lagos? New York? Tokyo? Cairo?

  Closer.

  She felt like screaming. She didn’t want to look anymore. But she had no body to look away with. It was like reading Nsibidi. Nsibidi? she thought, panicky. What is that?

  She was too close to the burning city. Soon she’d be upon it. What were those flying out of it? Bits of incinerating building? They looked like bats. Demons.

  She could feel her heart beating. Slamming in her chest; it wanted out. My heart? I have a heart? She was shaking. She was falling now. The forest trees crashing toward her . . .

  Her body jerked as she hit the floor. Her eyes shot open as she thrashed in the darkness. The floor was hard. Familiar scents. She calmed. Her scent. She touched her mashed up Afro; she’d forgotten to take out the comb Mami Wata had given to her. Then she climbed back into bed and lay there until she slept a restless, yet thankfully dreamless sleep.

  4

  READING NSIBIDI IS RISKY

  Saturday evening, Sunny went to see Sugar Cream in the Obi Library as usual. She was used to crossing the bridge to Leopard Knocks alone. The river beast made her nervous, but each and every time, she stared it down as she crossed. Even this time. It lurked just beneath the surface, a shadow the size of a house with eyes that glowed a dull yellow. Watching. Waiting. For what, Sunny didn’t know. But when she brought forth her spirit face, and Anyanwu filled her up with confidence, poise, and courage, she didn’t care. She dared the river beast to do its worst; then she’d have a reason to kick its backside once and for all.

  When she arrived at Sugar Cream’s office at around eight P.M., her mentor was not there yet. One of the ancestral masks on the wall, the red one with inflated cheeks and wild eyes, opened its mouth and silently laughed at her. Another stuck its tongue out. The masks were so annoying. They were like having a chorus of children behind Sugar Cream’s back who jeered and made fun of her as she was scolded or when she made mistakes.

  “Oh, stop it,” she said to the long-faced ebony mask that narrowed its eyes and sucked its teeth at her as she went to Sugar Cream’s desk. There was a note on it. Sit. We will practice gliding today. So clear your head. I will return shortly.

  Sunny groaned. “Sit” meant “Sit on the floor in front of her desk.” She sighed, scanning the dark wooden floor. She spotted four of the large red spiders scrambling across the floor. There were always a few. Where they were going, Sunny didn’t know, but they were always going somewhere. They were like scary ugly ants that were spiders.

  She slowly sat on the floor. She shut her eyes and took a dee
p slow breath. She blocked out the spiders and took another deep slow breath. Unfortunately, as her mind cleared, it made room for the very thing she wanted to stop thinking about. Her dream. The smoking city. She frowned, trying harder to clear her mind. Sweat beaded on her forehead as the dream lost its sharp edges and began to grow fuzzy in her mind.

  Her body began to relax. Her heartbeat slowed. Well-being. Nothing else. It would last about thirty seconds. So far, this was how long she could hold it. But this half minute was bliss. Ten seconds. A smile spread across her lips. Fifteen seconds. She began to hear that soft, slow hum again. It came from beneath her feet, beneath the floor—deep, deep, deep. It was beautiful. Eighteen seconds, she felt something scratchy.

  Her eyes shot open, and she looked at her hand. One of the red spiders was crawling onto her pinky and ring finger.

  “Eeeeeeeeee!” she screeched, flinging it off. It landed on the floor and ran toward Sugar Cream’s desk. Sunny was on her feet, still in mid-screech when her eyes fell on the woman sitting behind the desk.

  “Good evening,” Sugar Cream said. Today, she wore a creamy yellow dress with a creamy yellow headwrap. The yellow bangles on her wrists clicked as she shifted her position.

  “Spider! It was . . .” Sunny was so disoriented that she was out of breath and babbling. Anything but relaxed.

  “You must have been deep in meditation,” she said in Igbo. “I think it was going to check your pulse to make sure you were still alive.” Behind her, the red mask laughed silently. “What would you like to discuss today?” Sugar Cream asked.

  Sunny knew that whatever she answered was rarely taken into consideration, but she appreciated the question. She considered telling her about the dream. But it was just a dream, really, she thought. I don’t have any evidence. When it came to the vision of the end of the world she’d seen while gazing into the flame of a candle two years ago, there were other elders who had also seen a similar vision. It wasn’t just her. But then again, maybe others were having the dream, too. Maybe. A dream was a lot flimsier than an actual vision that one had while lucid and awake. She’d seen Black Hat slit his own throat, and then she’d faced Ekwensu very recently. Really, it was normal to have a few nightmares. She decided to go in another direction.

  “How about teaching me more about reading Nsibidi,” she said, slowly sitting back down. “I think . . . I think I’ve had a major breakthrough.” She told Sugar Cream about her Nsibidi reading experience, and Sugar Cream was pleased.

  “Finally,” she said, smiling bigger than Sunny had ever seen her smile since starting her mentorship with the Head Librarian. Normally, Sugar Cream was so subdued and stoic. “Reading Nsibidi is not something I can teach you. Good, good, good. We can do more now.”

  “But why does it take so much from me?” Sunny asked. “I felt like I would die of hunger. I don’t know how I was able to hide the pain from my mother.”

  “Trust me, your mother noticed.” Sugar Cream chuckled. “But she’s learning to accept what you are, even if she doesn’t know exactly what you are, and that’s good and safe for you both.” She arched her back in her plush leather chair and shifted to the side. Sugar Cream’s spine was curved in a dramatic S shape and thus, no chair was really made to suit her type of body. Sunny wondered why she didn’t just have a special chair made for her. “Reading Nsibidi is give and take,” she continued. “It gives you experience and knowledge, and in return the magic drinks your energy. This is fine if you replenish right afterward. Do what you’ve been doing. Read a tiny bit, then go eat well, sleep, relax. Don’t go arguing with your brothers or watching something annoying on television, because next thing you know, you’ll pass out and make a fool of yourself.”

  Sunny laughed.

  “And expect a few nightmares now that you have unlocked the key to truly reading Nsibidi.”

  “Nightmares?” Sunny asked, her entire body prickling.

  “Reading Nsibidi is similar to gliding through the wilderness in many ways,” she said. “It, too, involves leaving your body. This will scare you, even if what you are reading is not scary. Your mind compensates by giving you nightmares.”

  “Oh,” Sunny said.

  Sugar Cream grew serious and held up a bony index finger, locking Sunny with her eyes. “Reading Nsibidi is risky. You’re a free agent and for you to do this is not as rare as it is a bad combination. People have died from reading too much, Sunny,” she said. “Beware of books written in excellent Nsibidi; you have to be truly strong to read them. Otherwise, you could get sucked into the story or the lessons or the information. When you return to yourself, it is only to wish this current life goodbye. Your body will have withered to bones; you’ll have nothing left. It’s not a good way to pass to your next life.”

  The sheet of Nsibidi her grandmother had left must have been that dangerous type of Nsibidi. She didn’t know what it said, if it was fiction or nonfiction, but she knew how she felt when she tried to “read” it.

  Sugar Cream stood up. “Now, then,” she said. “Today, we’re going for a walk.”

  “Where?”

  “The tainted pepper patch,” she said.

  Sunny felt her entire body seize up.

  “See the way you just reacted?” Sugar Cream asked. “It’s not good to live a life dictated by fear. That is a lesson you especially must learn right here and now. Otherwise, you’ll be miserable.” She laughed. “Your spirit face is courageous and strong; do you want her to be ashamed of you?”

  Sunny followed Sugar Cream out the door. Fine. But I better not see even a small pond, she thought.

  5

  AUNTIE UJU AND HER JUJU

  By Monday, despite what Sugar Cream said and the fact that there was no lake beast near the tainted pepper patch, Sunny was back to fretting about her dream. Outside it was raining and the humidity made everything indoors damp. After school it was still raining, and Sunny had to meet Orlu at the school’s front door. They walked off into the rain. Neither of them had an umbrella.

  Sunny grumbled, grasping her juju knife in her pocket. She brought it with her everywhere, even to school, though she’d never use it for anything there. They reached the slick road, and Orlu started walking the other way, away from their homes. Sunny sighed. She could use a healthy dose of Orlu’s quiet presence today. Chichi and Sasha might be around, but they might not be. Those two were always either at the market shopping for fresh juju powders or off in their “secret place” creating them. These days, aside from being boyfriend and girlfriend, Sasha and Chichi were like partnered mad scientists, always reeking of crushed flowers, having stained fingers and constant pleased and half-crazy grins on their faces. Sasha’s hair had even grown twice its length, as if he were taking some kind of magical vitamins. The braids at the ends of his cornrows reached down his back now.

  Sunny had hoped she and Orlu could go to her house and study together at the kitchen table while they listened to the rain. However, she’d forgotten, it was the day when Orlu went to visit his auntie in a nearby village.

  “Can I go with?” she suddenly asked.

  Orlu looked at her with raised eyebrows, rain dripping down his face. “Why?”

  She shrugged. “If it’s a problem, then . . .”

  “No,” he said. “It’s fine. It’s just . . . will your parents be okay with it?”

  “I’ll call,” she said. “It should be fine.”

  “All right. But, let me warn you now, I love my auntie, but she’s . . . she’s very set in her ways.”

  Two minutes from the school, they managed to catch a danfo. The banged-up small bus was packed with sullen soaked people, and all the seats were taken. Sunny and Orlu squashed in with the people standing in the aisle. Orlu put an arm around Sunny when the jerky motion of the bus nearly threw her into the man sitting beside her.

  The ride was only ten minutes. And despite having to stand, Su
nny wished it were longer. As they drove, the rain began to come down harder. When they got off, it was like stepping into a waterfall. “Wish we could use an umbrella spell,” Orlu muttered. But both of them knew this would only get them a trip to the Obi Library for punishment. All it would take was one Lamb seeing them walk down the street with not a drop touching their skin or clothes or backpacks.

  His auntie’s house was large and white with a green roof, surrounded by a thick white fence. Orlu knocked on the gate, and the gate man quickly opened it for them.

  “Good afternoon,” the gate man said. Then he ran back under the shelter of his gate man post. As they walked up to the house, Orlu suddenly stopped. “My auntie is a Lamb,” he blurted.

  “Okay,” Sunny said. “So?”

  Orlu shrugged.

  “Orlu, I’m a free agent,” she said. “You think I’m going to judge you for having Lamb relatives?”

  He smiled sheepishly. “True,” he said. “Come on, let’s get out of this rain.”

  A young woman opened the door for them. “Good afternoon, Orlu,” she said. She paused, looking Sunny over. Then her smile turned into a smirk. “You have got to be Sunny Nwazue.”

  “Kema, stop,” Orlu said.

  “Hi,” Sunny said. Kema took her hand and shook it firmly.

  “He talks a lot about you,” Kema said. She touched the Mami Wata comb Sunny wore in her Afro. “Pretty comb.”

  “Thanks,” Sunny said, nervous. If his auntie wasn’t a Leopard, was Kema? What happened when Lambs touched gifts from Mami Wata?

  “Where’s Auntie?” Orlu asked.

  Kema’s smile lessened. “She’s in the living room, watching a movie. She’s not doing all that great today. Might be the rain.”