Akata Witch

by Nnedi Okorafor

  They all nodded. Then Chichi gasped. Sasha grabbed her shoulder and they both just stared at each other.

  “That’s why!” Chichi said to Sasha.

  “Goddamn!” Sasha said. Then they both looked at Taiwo, who was laughing.

  “Both of you, so quick,” Taiwo said. She looked at Orlu and Sunny. “They’ve both just realized that Black Hat is a Leopard Person.”

  Orlu nodded. “I considered it but wasn’t sure. Didn’t want to say anything.”

  “How do you know?” Sunny asked. “Just because he’s a ritual killer? All ritual killers can’t be Leopard People, can they?”

  “No, most ritual killers are misguided or crazy Lamb folk. But we know about Black Hat. He was a scholar. Years before you all were born, Otokoto Ginny passed the last level. He was thirty-four years old, a year older than I was. He shouldn’t have been allowed to even take the test.” Taiwo sucked her teeth in annoyance. “He passed, but he was never fit to be a scholar. His hunger for wealth and power were as strong as his hunger for chittim. Otokoto had the biggest appetite for these things. I don’t know what was wrong with him. He has to be stopped, not just for the sake of the children he is drawing from but for the world. This is the job we are giving to you four.”

  Sunny’s mouth fell open. Orlu cried out in frustration. Sasha laughed and said, “Bring it on.” Chichi slapped hands and snapped fingers with Sasha.

  “We don’t know what it is he’s planning, but these killings and maimings point toward the blackest, most secret type of juju,” Taiwo said. “The kind that requires ritual sacrifices of human beings. The fact that he is targeting children means he is working with juju that draws its power from life and innocence. In three months, we’ll expect you to go after this man. It’s not so much about finding him as it is about waiting for the right moment to strike.”

  “How do you know when that is?” Orlu asked.

  “We don’t, but we think we’ll know it when we see it.”

  Orlu frowned. “The scholars, you mean?”

  “From Leopard Knocks and other distant places. We’re all working together on this one. We met and decided on you last year. Except Sunny. We had an idea about her, but couldn’t see her clearly until you, Chichi, introduced her to your mother.”

  Sunny had to say something. “You expect us to capture this Black Hat, who is like you, one of these people who has passed the highest of the highest level of juju ability? That’s-I mean no disrespect-” She paused, the irritation that had been brewing in her for weeks suddenly flaring bright. She felt used. “That’s insane! And-and I’m beginning to know how you people think! You’ll just find some other kids to do it if we’re all murdered! And why am I included in this?! I don’t know anything!”

  “This is bigger than you,” Taiwo said, turning very serious. “But you’re part of it, too. It would be unfair for me to expect you to understand this just yet, but you will.”

  Sunny exhaled loudly but looked away, working hard to shut her mouth. What else could she say that was coherent and not full of swear words, anyway?

  The next morning, when she woke and stretched, something fell off her bed. It was a rolled-up newspaper from Leopard Knocks, an early edition. Taped to it was a receipt that said:

  Welcome, new subscriber. We appreciate your business. Please pay Chichi Nimm a sum of one small silver chittim. Have a nice day!

  Conclusion

  So there you have it. All you need to know to get started. As I have repeated incessantly throughout this book, there is no direction you can turn that does not face you toward certain death. The best thing to do is be who you’ve been, don’t move, stay where you are, drop all ambition as a Leopard Person. Relax. Do not strive too high. Learn but do not use. And only learn the basics. It is best to remain in your protective shell. Ambition is not your friend. Be glad the Leopard world has been opened to you, but remain a mere spectator. And for the hundredth time, I repeat: KEEP YOUR SECRET LIFE FROM YOUR LAMB RELATIONS AND ACQUAINTANCES. Not only are there dire consequences for breaching secrecy, but you risk upsetting a very delicate, crucial hard-earned balance. Now go well, free agent. Be well. And again I say: Welcome.

  10

  Facing Reality

  Sunny spent the next month deep in all kinds of books. She was doing homework for two schools. But somehow, she was keeping up and managing enough sleep. She’d read Fast Facts for Free Agents cover to cover twice. She practiced basic jujus and her skill of becoming invisible. She even perfected bringing forth and pulling back her spirit face.

  She moved on to her two new books from Leopard Knocks. The Nsibidi one really caught her interest. Her eyes adjusted quickly to the wiggling, gesturing, animated black symbols. Soon she could actually see that they were trying to say things. For example, a symbol that looked like a stick figure of an intense man standing and punching his fists in the air meant, “This is all mine!” The figure was placed in the front cover of the book, and next to it she neatly wrote her name.

  But understanding what was “written” in the book was coming slowly. Each symbol spoke a complex idea, and the slightest change in the symbol shifted its meaning. And the book expected her to learn the language and then read and understand what Sugar Cream had written using the language. She was only able to decipher the first third of the first page, and that page mostly told her why most people wouldn’t be able to read the book.

  “This text won’t be a bestseller,” the book said. At least that’s what Sunny thought it said.

  She also read well into her Advanced Juju Knife Jujus book, though the subject was way over her head. She didn’t even have a juju knife. And every charm had some crazy warning or side effect like heart failure, brain aneurisms, cancer, venereal disease, itchy rashes, terrible luck, insanity, and, most often, death.

  Her mother seemed pleased with the “fresh look” Sunny suddenly had and the happiness that radiated from her. Her father, on the other hand, avoided her. Maybe he sensed the change in her most. Her brothers actually began to talk to her. They played more soccer after dark. Several times, she even joined them in their room to watch movies on their computer.

  It was a warm Monday morning. She woke up bleary-eyed but smiling. She had gone to bed very late. Something had clicked in her brain last night, and she understood the Nsibidi book’s language a lot better. In those late hours, she’d read a full page.

  She rubbed the crust from her eyes, sighing loudly. It was going to be a long day. She reached for the newspaper on her lap. She got one every morning now. She never heard or saw anything; it would just be there when she woke. She unrolled it and, just like that, the glowing euphoria she’d been experiencing for a month died. “Oh, no,” she whispered.

  The headline read, OTOKOTO THE BLACK HAT STRIKES AGAIN! A boy of seven had been taken in the market. He was found the next day with his ears cut off, unable to properly hear even the loudest noise. Sunny threw the paper across the room. Her legs shook as she got up and retrieved the front page.

  She pressed her lips together as she read the whole story. The boy had stumbled into someone’s home babbling about how angels had saved him. The poor boy, she thought. Why do I feel like it’s my fault? It’s not as if I can do anything. But some very intelligent people believed she and the others could. She quickly dressed for school.

  She had to wait until lunch break to talk to Orlu about it.

  “You read the paper?” Orlu asked.

  “Yeah.”

  They were quiet.

  “What’d Sasha say?” she finally asked.

  “I won’t repeat his words. He was really angry.”

  “I felt more guilty than angry,” she said.

  “Yeah.”

  “Have you seen Chichi?”

  “I went to see her this morning,” he said. “She’s usually up doing something, reading. Her mother told me she’d gone for a walk after reading the paper. Maybe she went to see Anatov. Sasha sent a message to Kehinde. Taiwo’s Miri Bi
rd gave my mother a note for me. It said to sit tight.”

  They barely ate their lunches. Even when they both received high marks on their essays in literature and writing class, they were grim. So, when they were both leaving school and Jibaku roughly pushed Sunny aside as she passed, followed by Calculus, Periwinkle, and a few others, there was bound to be trouble.

  “Hey, cut it out!” Sunny screeched, running up and pushing Jibaku back. She felt the blood rush to her head. Just then, a beat-up car full of older teenage boys pulled up in front of the school. “Jibaku,” the driver called.

  Sunny and Jibaku turned around. The boys got out of the car and swaggered into the school yard in their baggy jeans and T-shirts. Loud hip-hop blasted from their shabby vehicle. Sunny wanted to laugh hard. They were trying way too hard to mimic black American culture.

  The driver pointed at Orlu. “I know you.”

  “So what?” Orlu snapped, looking annoyed.

  Jibaku and Sunny turned back to each other.

  “Don’t touch me with your diseased hands, you freak,” Jibaku said.

  “Or you’ll what? Eh?”

  “I see pepper, o,” the driver said to his friends, laughing. “Dis oyibo is trouble.” He laughed harder. “Jibaku, let’s go.”

  Orlu tried to pull Sunny back. She snatched her arm away. “No!” she said. “I’m not afraid of this idiot!” Jibaku instantly whirled around and launched herself at Sunny. Sunny shoved her back and threw a punch. She had two crazy brothers; she knew how to fight. And Jibaku had it coming.

  Jibaku screeched, clasping her eye. She came at Sunny again. Suddenly, they were both on the ground, rolling in the dust, kicking and punching and scratching. Sunny was a hurricane of rage, only vaguely aware of Orlu and the boys exchanging angry words. A crowd gathered. She didn’t care. She rolled on top of Jibaku and slapped her face as hard as she could.

  Hands locked around her arms. Calculus and Periwinkle were dragging her off. This gave Jibaku a chance to kick Sunny in the belly, knocking the air out of her. The unfairness of the situation really made her see red. She screamed and wrenched her arms from Periwinkle and Calculus. She was on Jibaku again, pressing her to the ground. She reveled in the fear on Jibaku’s face.

  “You try and beat me again-” Sunny said breathlessly. “Remember this the next time you think about it!” Without a thought, she brought forth her spirit face. “Raaaahhhh!” she roared. Jibaku screamed so loudly that everyone, including the boys, came running. Immediately, Sunny retracted her spirit face and stood.

  Jibaku scrabbled away from Sunny into the guy’s arms, her eyes wide and wild. She started crying, burying her face in the guy’s chest. He pointed a finger at Orlu and Sunny. Deepening his voice for emphasis, he said, “You see me again and you go see plenty hot peppa.”

  Orlu and Sunny watched them all pile into the car and drive off.

  “Come on,” Orlu said. “Before the teachers come.”

  They walked slowly, Sunny limping a little. Her knees were scraped and she’d bruised her arm.

  “You showed her your spirit face, didn’t you?” Orlu said.

  “Shut up.”

  A blue Mercedes pulled up beside them. The window came down. “Sunny Nwazue?” the woman behind the wheel asked. She wore a green headwrap, dark sunglasses, and black lipstick.

  “Who are-”

  “Are you Sunny Nwazue?”

  “Y-yes,” she said.

  “Get in. You’re to be taken to the Obi Library for punishment.”

  “But she didn’t mean to,” Orlu begged. “She’s a free agent, just introduced weeks ago. She didn’t work juju on anyone. She just-”

  “Get in, Sunny Nwazue,” the woman repeated.

  Sunny looked at Orlu. “Go,” he said. “God, that was so stupid, Sunny.”

  “What’s going to happen?” she whispered.

  “I don’t know,” he snapped. He cursed to himself and then said, “Go in.”

  The woman drove in silence. From the back window, Sunny waved sadly at Orlu. He just looked at her. She slumped in her seat and took out her cell phone. “No reason to get in trouble twice,” she grumbled.

  Her mother answered. “Dr. Nwazue speaking.”

  “Hi, Mama,” she said.

  “Hi, sweetie, everything okay?”

  “Um, yeah,” she said, looking tentatively at the driver.

  “How was school?”

  “Fine,” she said, lowering her voice. “I got an A on my math exam. And I got an A on my essay in literature and writing class.”

  “Wonderful.”

  “Mama, can I have dinner with Chichi and Orlu tonight?” She held her breath. The family rarely had dinner together, but her mother liked her and her brothers to be in the house by nighttime.

  There was a pause. “As long as you all study, too,” she finally said. Sunny breathed a sigh of relief. She hated lying. “Be back by seven. Anyway, it’s going to be a late day for both myself and your father.”

  Sunny put her cell phone in her purse. “Excuse me,” she said to the woman.

  She looked at Sunny in the rearview mirror.

  “Will-will they throw me in jail or something?” she asked.

  “I can’t discuss that with you,” the woman said in her flat voice.

  Sunny sat back and looked out the window. The monotony of the drive and the hum of the car were soothing. Soon, she dozed off.

  “Get out.”

  Sunny slowly opened her eyes. They were parked outside of the Obi Library. There must have been a way in wider than a tree bridge.

  “Someone will meet you inside.” The moment Sunny got out, the woman drove off, leaving her alone in Leopard Knocks for the first time. There were people going in and out of the library, on the street. She saw a group of kids about her age walking toward Taiwo’s hut. They saw her and waved. She waved back. Then she turned to the library. A cobblestone trail led through the wildly growing grass to the main entrance. As with almost every Leopard building, there was no door, only a silky lavender cloth. She pushed it aside and stepped in.

  Books and papers were stacked and piled in corners, set in bookcases as high as the ceiling, scattered on and around clusters of chairs. It was all very untidy and disorganized, and the air had a stale paper odor. People read, talked, wrote, and even performed acts of juju. A man standing in a corner with a book in his hand shouted something and threw some powder up in the air. Poof! A burst of brown moths. He coughed and cursed and threw the book on the floor.

  An old woman sat beside a bookcase, surrounded by children. She snapped her fingers and all the children floated inches from the ground. They giggled, trying to make themselves go higher by pumping their legs.

  In the center of the large busy room was a round table with a silver sign hovering in midair above it. In large black letters, the sign read WETIN?, which meant “What is it?” in Pidgin English. A youngish man with Yoruba tribal markings on his cheeks sat behind the desk.

  “Hello,” she said, nervously. “I’m-”

  “Sunny Nwazue,” he said. “Breaker of rule number fortyeight. Such a primary rule.” He called behind her. “Samya.”

  “Eh?” came a voice from behind a bookcase. A woman with long braids, red plastic glasses, and reddish brown skin peeked around it.

  “Sunny’s here,” he said. “Take her up.”

  Samya looked Sunny over and then said, “Come. This way.”

  They took the staircase beside the Wetin desk. The second floor was larger, with more bookcases and stacks of paper. The people here were older. Sunny wanted to slap herself. Her first look at the Obi Library University was basically as a criminal.

  A haunted moaning came from somewhere on the other side of the floor. Thankfully, they went up another flight of stairs. The third floor had more books and classrooms, too, but she was too nervous to really pay attention. “Please. What is going to happen to me?”

  “Can’t talk about it.”

  It looked like t
hey were going up another staircase. Instead, Samya led her to perhaps the first actual door Sunny had seen in Leopard Knocks. It was heavy, painted black, and decorated with a white drawing like those on the outer walls of the library. The drawing depicted a person being whipped by another person. There were squiggles, circles, and Xs around the person being whipped. She assumed they illustrated cries of pain.

  Samya knocked on the door. “Stay here until you’re asked to enter,” she said. Then she left.

  Five minutes passed. Man, I wish the door would open, she thought. Anything to get away from the sounds in the hallway-the moans and wheezy, hysterical laughter and whispers, like some confused ghost. A large brown bird flew by and red spiders scurried across the high ceiling. She even felt a blast of warm wet air pass. Someone was moving invisibly.

  She considered sitting on the floor, but more red spiders were scurrying about there. Another ten minutes passed. Frustrated, she finally tried the door. The knob turned easily. She held her breath and pushed. She peeked in. Sitting on a solid bronze chair was a dark-skinned old woman dressed in a cream-colored buba and matching pants. She was slightly hunched to the side and looked uncomfortable.

  “Oh, I’m sorry,” Sunny said, retreating.

  “Come in. Only those who want to come in are allowed in.”

  She stood before the woman. Dozens of masquerade masks covered the walls, hanging close to one another. Some looked angry, with mouths full of teeth; others were fat-cheeked and comical, sticking their tongues out.

  “So I could have just turned and left?”

  “Maybe,” the woman said. “But you’re in here now.” The door closed. “Sit on the floor,” the woman said. “You don’t deserve a chair.”

  Sunny looked at the floor, spotting two more red spiders a few feet away. Slowly, she sat down, drawing her legs in close. “I’m sorry for what I did,” she quickly said.