Akata Warrior

by Nnedi Okorafor

  “I’ll tell your mother that you’re home,” he said, making to leave. He turned back to Sunny. “We love you more than life itself.” He paused, his own words seeming to take his breath away. Then his face became hard and angry as she’d known it most of her life when he looked at her, and he continued. “But you worry her like that again and I will disown you from this family and throw you out of this house.”

  Later on, her mother didn’t come running to the kitchen or her room. But Sunny could hear her sobbing with relief in their bedroom. She heard Ugonna go to their room. Then he came to Sunny’s room, peeked in, and without a word returned to his room. Sunny lay awake listening to her mother’s sobbing and her father’s soft consoling murmurs. She wished she could go to her parents’ room as she used to when she was younger, before she became part of something that was entirely separate from her family.

  She closed her eyes, tears streaming from the sides onto her pillow. Those days were over.

  15

  WAHALA DEY

  A few nights later, Sunny walked into Anatov’s hut with Chichi, Orlu, and Sasha. It was just past midnight. When they walked in through the OUT door and greeted their teacher, Anatov told them he had a special lesson for them tonight. Then he’d pulled Sunny aside.

  “Come with me for a minute so we can talk,” he said. “Excuse us,” he told the others. He’d tied his bushy dreadlocks on top of his head tonight. Sunny noted this. When Anatov tied up his dreadlocks, it always meant the lessons that night would be tough.

  They walked through the waist-high wooden front door labeled IN. It was painted with black and white squares that Sunny had since learned were part of a protective juju that wove through the hut and the mile radius of forest around it.

  As soon as they were outside, Anatov reached into his pocket. When he brought his hand up, he blew green juju powder in Sunny’s face. She immediately began to sneeze and sneeze. She stumbled back. “What . . .” Then she was overcome by another sneezing fit.

  Without a word, he brought out his juju knife and made several quick flourishes. He put his knife on the ground at his feet and then snapped both of his fingers in Sunny’s direction. As soon as he did this, Sunny felt a force shove her backward. She stared at what remained in the place she’d just stood.

  She sneezed another five times as she watched the green mist shaped like herself float there, slowly dissipating into the air like thick smoke. It looked around, as if shocked by its existence.

  “What is that?!” Sunny said. Her stuffed nose made her sound nasally.

  “You traveled fully into the wilderness. When people with your ability do that and then return, they always bring something back with them,” he said, staring at the green Sunny-shaped mist. It was almost gone now, but it was still looking around in shock. It made no sound, but Sunny could smell something. She couldn’t find the words to describe it. “It’s like swimming in the ocean. You come out wet and when you dry, you’re salty. You need to bathe.”

  “So I’m clean now?”

  He chuckled. “Is being covered in sea salt dirty?”

  “Well . . .”

  “If I didn’t do that to you, you’d become . . . strange,” he said. “I’ve seen it happen. I didn’t think I’d have to teach you how to perform bush medicine on yourself. Not so soon. But I guess when it comes to you all, things happen sooner rather than later. How do you feel?”

  “I need a tissue.”

  He chuckled. “Aside from your juju powder allergy.”

  “I feel . . . lighter. Like I just took off a heavy coat.”

  Anatov looked pleased.

  “And I . . . I can smell something,” she said. “Even with my stuffed nose. What is that? Why’s it so strong?”

  Anatov nodded. “Can’t describe it, right?”

  Sunny shook her head.

  “That’s the wilderness,” he said.

  They paused, Anatov looking pensively at Sunny. Sunny sniffed loudly. Then Anatov smiled and shook his head. “What in Allah’s name were you thinking when you did that to the society’s capo, Sunny? I hope you’ve learned your lesson. You could have died in that basement. We’d all have been torn up, but the world would have moved on, eventually, and you’d have been gone. Don’t you understand yet?”

  “My bro—”

  “I know it was your brother,” he said stepping closer. “I know you love him and that guy hurt him . . . badly. Nearly killed him. But you are in a secret society. A real true one that is older than time. And we have rules, strict, real, deeply upheld rules. While you were in the basement, Sugar Cream came to me angry as hell. She couldn’t believe you’d do something so stupid. Do you know that? I have never seen her even break a sweat. But this night, she was shaking with fear and anger.”

  “I’m sorry,” Sunny whispered.

  “Tell that to your mentor and never ever cross that line again. We can’t protect you if you do.”

  Sunny’s nose ran and now her eyes were tearing up, too.

  “You essentially died; that’s what traveling fully into the wilderness requires,” Anatov said bluntly. “When it pulled you in, if you weren’t Sunny Nwazue, if you were Sasha or Orlu or Chichi or any other kid without your specific ability, you’d have stayed dead. Do you understand this?”

  Sunny took a deep breath as his words sunk in. “I get it,” she breathed.

  “Good.” He looked down his nose at her. “You set Ogwu and her young free.”

  “They were never really in prison,” Sunny muttered. “She was just ashamed.”

  “Hmm,” he said, putting a long arm around her shoulder. When she looked up at him, his nose ring glinted in the moonlight. Anatov the Defender of Frogs and All Things Natural couldn’t defend her from everything. “Come,” he said. “I assume you brought your usual box of tissues?”

  Sunny laughed and smiled, wiping her tears with her hand. “Yeah.”

  He grasped her shoulder warmly, pulling her into a hug. He smelled of his favorite scented oil—Egyptian musk—and his caftan was scratchy. “Good,” he said. “Good, Sunny.”

  The four of them sat on the floor of Anatov’s hut. Sunny had blown the heck out of her nose, but it still ran happily and freely. She pulled out another tissue, lifted her glasses a bit, and blew. By now her nose probably looked red as a cherry.

  “You okay?” Orlu asked.

  “Get her some water, man,” Sasha said, chuckling. “With all that snot, she’s going to get dehydrated.”

  “Tonight,” Anatov loudly said. He spoke in Igbo. He did this often to help Sasha practice. “In celebration of Sunny’s return, I’ve decided to throw out the planned lesson and replace it with something I think you all need: masking jujus. Jujus you use when you want to perform juju on or around Lambs but do not wish them to see or know it.”

  Sunny sat up straighter, deeply interested. There was juju for that? Leopards were allowed to perform juju on Lambs? She looked at Chichi, who looked equally surprised.

  “One can perform juju on Lambs and around them,” he said. “We know this happens, sure. We can’t live around these people and not be able to do this. However, you must take precautions. And those precautions are not so easy. And people are lazy.” He switched to English, speaking with his African American accent. “They don’t like to cover they asses. And if you mess up . . . well, y’all know the consequences.”

  He sat in his mahogany throne-like chair with its plush red seat. “Lord knows that Lambs can be damn annoying, with their silly materialism, hatred of education, and love of remaining stupid. They’re obsessed with getting things fast, fast, fast, with the least amount of work, books, no instruction. It’s universal.” He chuckled. “Who can blame Leopards for wanting to throw some juju at them once in a while.”

  He went on to show them several jujus they could do. Empty Hands required a bit of common all-
purpose juju powder and allowed one to punch someone without looking like one had done anything. Grace was a juju that you could do with only your juju knife; it allowed one to slip out of a situation unnoticed. Ujo only required a juju knife, too. This bit of juju filled a Lamb person with irrational crippling fear. It could be thrown from a distance of several feet, allowing the thrower to remain undetected.

  Both Sasha and Chichi were especially good at performing this one. “I’m glad no Lambs are around,” Anatov said, after watching both of them. “You’ll both have to learn how to perform Ujo in strength grades . . . unless you want the Lambs you work it on to run off screaming and vomiting with hysterical fear every single time you use it on them.”

  “Use Ujo sparingly,” Anatov stressed to all of them. “Even a weak version of it can eventually cause brain damage when used on the same person more than once.”

  Of all the things Anatov showed them this day, Sunny’s favorite was Wahala Dey. This was another juju knife spell that caused small things to randomly go wrong. One’s pants would fall down, one would slip or trip, make a wrong turn, drop one’s plate of food, one’s computer would suddenly crash. It only worked on Lambs, and it was an excellent way to slip out of a bad situation or just ruin someone’s day.

  All four of them picked up on the jujus with only mild difficulty, and Anatov was pleased. “I hope this will keep all of you from any further trips to the Obi Library basement or, in your case, Sunny, worse.” She felt her cheeks grow red. “And, Sasha, if you had known some of these, I doubt you’d have been sent here to Nigeria by your parents for being such a fool.”

  “Nah, I’d still have switched those two cops’ minds,” he said. “Police require something serious, Oga.”

  Chichi smiled at Sasha, and he looked ready to burst with pride. Orlu only rolled his eyes.

  Anatov sucked his teeth with loathing, but in a fond kind of way. Their group wasn’t his only group, but even Sunny knew they were his favorite. Chichi was his one mentee, and no elder took on a mentee unless he or she truly deeply loved and felt great, great confidence in that student. “Sasha, like me, you definitely have African America running through your veins—irrational rebelliousness straight out of Chicago. May the gods help you.”

  Sasha jumped up and did the Crip Walk.

  “I said Chicago, not Compton,” Anatov said.

  “South Siiiide!” Sasha proclaimed, laughing.

  Anatov’s nostrils flared as he clearly stifled a laugh. “Anyway, so before you all return to the safety of your families, I’d like you to go to Leopard Knocks and pick up some of the all-purpose powder that we used for the jujus today.”

  “But we have plenty of that already,” Chichi said.

  “You have the yellow kind,” he said. “Get the white kind. It’s the purest and best and safest to use with Lambs. Just a tiny pound you can hide on your person or in your purse and keep it only for when you wish to deal with Lambs.”

  It was nearly one A.M. when they stepped up to the bridge to Leopard Knocks. Finding the white juju powder wouldn’t be easy. Anatov said it wasn’t a big seller, since it was juju powder that was exclusively for “use on Lambs.” Sunny just hoped they could find it quickly so she could get a few hours of sleep before school tomorrow.

  She was exhausted and could barely hear herself think as she looked at the tree bridge. The noise of the crashing river always seemed louder at night. She stepped up to the large smooth black stone and laid her hand on it. It was warm as she rubbed. The others were waiting behind her.

  She was so, so tired, more tired than anyone understood. She yawned as she stepped up and faced the narrow slippery bridge. She relaxed herself and brought forth her spirit face. She was going to shift into mist and blow across the bridge, but she was just too tired. So instead, she felt her limber body stretch and she regally began to walk across the bridge.

  Feeling tall and stately, she pointed her sandaled toes as she walked across. She was like a ballerina gracing the stage. Back straight, neck stiff, one foot in front of the other. She smiled softly as she looked down into the rushing water. The water gushed and coiled and thrashed as it tumbled downstream. What was it about this section of river that caused it to grow so turbulent? On each side, there were tangles of hanging trees, vines, and bushes both up- and downriver. How the trees grew at the river’s edges was beyond her. The current should have carried them away.

  “Hello,” she whispered when she saw its great, round face just below the wild waters. The river beast. It was the size of a house and who knew what its full shape was. She’d never asked her friends, her teacher, or her mentor. She’d never wanted to show them that she was too curious about it. Their little game was between it and her, Anyanwu.

  Every single time she crossed the bridge to Leopard Knocks, even when she crossed as mist, it came up to watch her. Closely. Not casually. Not nicely. Initially, she had been afraid. The first time she’d crossed the bridge, it had nearly tricked her into falling into the river, and Sasha had saved her by grabbing her necklace. Lately, she was defiant, often stopping to look right back at the glaring monster who never broke the surface to show its certainly hideous face. Since her encounter with its cousin the lake beast, she was downright audacious when she crossed the bridge.

  “Why do you wait?” Sunny said as Anyanwu. Her voice was deep and buttery, the voice of a sultry female radio DJ who played smooth jazz and midnight love songs. “I am right here. What is it you seek from me?”

  It was hulking below her. She could see the girth of it now. She chuckled.

  “Sunny?” Chichi called behind her. Her voice traveled through the mist as if from somewhere else. And technically it was, for the bridge linked the mundane world to the magical oasis that Leopard Knocks sat upon, which existed on no Lamb map.

  “What is it you want?” Sunny asked, kneeling down to look the river beast in its submerged face. This beast’s cousin had dragged her into its water. The djinn had dragged her into a sort of water that led to the wilderness. And now here was this damn thing, constantly threatening her with the same fate.

  “Do you know who I am?” she said. She knocked her knuckles to her wooden spirit face. “I am Anyanwu.” Sunny could only watch this other side of her taunt and heckle the river beast. Inside she shook and cowered. Normally, she felt right in line with her spirit self. Anyanwu was strong and old, and Sunny loved how she taunted the river beast. Anyanwu was Sunny. But, right now, Sunny was exhausted. She had no fight left in her. Not right now. And Anyanwu was picking another fight.

  She rose up on her toes and then pointed her juju knife at the creature. The bridge shook, and Sunny felt like her heart would explode because not only was it shaking, something was cracking. Anyanwu gracefully crouched, her juju knife held firmly in her hand. There was something thick, green, and wet wrapped around the narrow bridge to her right. It looked like a mossy rope, a vine thicker than three fire hoses . . . no, a tentacle!

  Oh come on, not again, Sunny thought. But Anyanwu laughed as the river beast finally surfaced. It was indeed the size of a house, as its shadow indicated. Craggy and pocked with calcium deposits and barnacle-like crustaceans, its horrible cranium was also covered with something like green-purple seaweed. The thing looked like a hideous sea garden. Its giant toothy maw was downturned and closed as it glared up at her with its dinner-plate-sized silvery eyes. She could smell it, too, like sea flowers if sea flowers had a scent. Sweet, briny, and oily.

  It grunted and huffed and puffed out water at her, nearly blowing her from the bridge. The briny flower smell invaded her nostrils.

  “Sunny!” she heard Orlu call. “Are you all right?”

  “Yeah,” she called back, still looking it in the eye.

  None of them could come and get her. Only one person could be on the bridge at a time. Sunny was alone here. But she’d asked for this. Anyanwu had. A green seaweed-covered
tentacle reached for her, and she danced back.

  “You missed,” she said. Then, without a thought, she leaped. This was Anyanwu’s impulsiveness, but it felt great to Sunny. She wasn’t a super-fast thinker like Sasha and Chichi, but there was a joy she experienced when she acted impulsively, and she felt it now. In mid-leap over the tentacle, she glanced down at the raging river below. She remembered how cold its waters had been when she’d moved through it during her initiation. With its wild, churning gray-white currents, no one would hear if she fell in and they would certainly spirit her away within seconds.

  She landed gracefully on the side of the narrow bridge where she’d entered, the river beast’s tentacle on the wood behind her; she was steps away from where Orlu, Chichi, and Sasha stood waiting to cross. She looked back and laughed, her voice Anyanwu’s deep baritone that made her sound like an arrogant middle-aged chain-smoking woman. The river beast grunted wetly. Then it shivered with surprise and the crescent-shaped pupils of its silver eyes widened. Sunny stopped and nearly fell to her knees. The images that burst into her mind stung sharply like angry attacking bees behind her eyes. Then she could have sworn she heard the river beast laughing, or maybe it was shrieking because it, too, was experiencing the vision that moved through it to reach Sunny.

  It flooded in like river water. There was haunted music. The flute and the talking drum filled Sunny’s mind. Even the water below vibrated to the beat of the masquerade’s tune. Then she was looking at Ekwensu, the terrifying spirit she’d faced here last year. She grabbed the sides of her head and shook it; she shut her eyes. “No, no, no, no.” She was already so weak. The vision kept coming, though. Ekwensu looked the same; a house-sized mound of packed palm fronds standing in a place of green grass. The only difference was that she seemed to be constantly spilling out red beads from between her dry fronds, some tiny as ants, some big as horseflies. And she was rising from the grass now. Two of the red beads seemed to fly at Sunny, and she flinched, snapping from her vision.