Who Fears Death (33 page)

“You can’t look me in the eye, child?” the old man asked in a low gruff voice.

There was something about him that I found very agitating. Before I could respond, Chieftess Sessa said, “We came to invite you all to our settling feast.”

“It’s an invitation and an order,” the old man said firmly.

Chieftess Sessa continued, “Wear your best clothes if you have any.” She paused, motioning to the old man. “This is Ssaiku. You will undoubtedly come to know him well as the days pass. Welcome to Ssolu, our moving village.”

Chief Usson gave all of us a prolonged angry glare and the old man Ssaiku eyed me and then Mwita before leaving our camp.

“These people are so strange,” Fanasi said, when the three were gone.

“I don’t have anything good to wear,” Diti complained.

Luyu rolled her eyes.

“Must all their names start with
S
or have
S
’s in them? You’d think they were descendants of snakes,” Fanasi said.

“That’s the sound that travels best, the
ssss
sound. They live in all this noise from the dust storm, so it makes sense,” Mwita said, going into our tent.

“Mwita, did you notice that old man?” I asked, joining him. “I can’t recall his name.”

“Ssaiku,” Mwita said. “You should take note of him.”

“Why? You think he’ll be trouble?” I asked. “I don’t like him at all.”

“What about Chief Usson?” Mwita asked. “He looked pretty angry.”

I shook my head, “He probably always frowns. It’s that old man I don’t like.”

“That’s because he’s a sorcerer like you, Onye,” Mwita said. He laughed bitterly to himself and grumbled something.

“Eh?” I said, frowning. “What did you say?”

He turned back to me and cocked his head. “How in Ani’s name is it that I can tell and you can’t?” He paused again. “How is it that . . .” He cursed and turned away.

“Mwita,” I said loudly, taking his arm. He didn’t pull it away, though I purposely pressed my nails into his flesh. “Finish your thought.”

He brought his face close to mine. “
I
should be the sorcerer,
you
should be the healer. That’s how it’s always been between a man and woman.”

“Well, it’s
not
you,” I hissed trying to keep my voice down. “You aren’t the one whose mother in a wasteland of desperation asked all the powers of the earth to make her daughter a sorcerer. You aren’t the one born from
rape
. You came from love, remember?
YOU
aren’t the one the Nuru Seer prophesied would do something so drastic that she’ll be
dragged out before a screaming crowd of Nurus, buried to her neck and stoned until she is dead!
”

He grabbed my shoulders, his left eye twitching. “What?” he whispered. “You . . .”

We stared at each other.

“That’s . . . my fate,” I said. I hadn’t meant to tell him this way. Not at all. “Why would I
choose
that? I’ve been fighting from the day I was born. Yet you talk as if I took something precious from you.”

“Hey, Onye?” Luyu called from her tent. “You should wear that rapa and top that woman gave you in Banza.”

“That’s a good idea,” I called back, still facing Mwita.

I heard Fanasi playfully say, “Come here.”

Luyu giggled.

Mwita left our tent. I poked my head out about to call him back. But he walked fast, passing people without greeting them, his head unveiled, his chin to his chest.

Those old beliefs about the worth and fate of men and women, that was the only thing that I didn’t like about Mwita. Who was he to think he was entitled to be the center of things just because he was male? This had been a problem with us since we’d met. Again, I think of the story of Tia and Zoubeir. I despise that story.

I WOKE UP TWO HOURS LATER WITH TEARS DRIED ON MY FACE. Music was playing from somewhere. “Get up,” Luyu said, shaking me. “What’s wrong with you?”

“Nothing,” I muttered groggily. “Tired.”

“It’s time for the feast.” She wore her best purple rapa and blue top. They were a little battered but she’d rebraided her cornrows into a spiral and put on earrings. She smelled of the scented oil she, Diti, and Binta used to drown themselves in back home. I bit my lip, thinking about Binta.

“You’re not dressed!” Luyu said. “I’ll get some water and a cloth. I don’t know where these people bathe—there are always people around.”

I slowly sat up, trying to shake off the deep sleep I’d been in. I touched my long braid. It was full of sand from the storm. I was unbraiding it when Luyu returned with a pot of warm water. “You’re going to wear your hair down?” she asked.

“I might as well,” I mumbled. “No time to wash it.”

“Wake up,” she said, lightly smacking my cheek. “This is going to be fun.”

“Have you seen Mwita?”

“No,” Luyu said.

I put on my outfit from Banza, fully aware that its many colors would attract attention that I wasn’t in the mood for. I brushed out my thick long hair and used some of the warm water to get it to lie down. When I came out of my tent, Luyu was there to spray me with scented oil. “There,” she said. “You look
and
smell lovely.” But I noticed her eyes grace my face and sand-colored hair. The
Ewu
-born will always be
Ewu
.

Fanasi wore the brown pants and stained white shirt I saw him wear almost every day, but he’d shaved his face and head. This brought out his high cheekbones and long neck. Diti wore a blue rapa and top that I hadn’t seen her wear before. Fanasi might have bought it for her in Banza. She’d combed out her large Afro and patted it into a perfect circle. I sucked my teeth when I noticed Fanasi fighting not to look at Diti and hungrily looking at Luyu. He was the most confused man I’d ever seen.

“Okay,” Luyu said, leading the way. “Let’s go.”

As we walked, I wondered how long these people had been a nomadic tribe. My guess was a long, long time. Their tents were set up in a matter of hours and were no less comfortable than houses, even having floors made of the furry pelts of some sort of brown animal.

They carried their plants in large sacks of a type of fragrant substance called soil. And they all used minor juju to build fires, keep insects away, and so on. The Vah also had schools. The only thing they didn’t have were many books. Too heavy. But they had a few for the sake of learning to read. Some of this I saw on the way to the feast. But most of it I learned during our stay.

It was a grand gathering, a large feast set up in the center. A band played guitars and sang. Everyone was dressed in their finest. The style was simple: red pants and shirts for men and combinations of red dresses for the women. Some of the women’s dresses had beads woven into the hems and cuffs, others were cut to look jagged and so on.

By this time in my life, I saw myself through Mwita’s eyes. I was beautiful. That is one of the greatest gifts Mwita gave me. I could never have seen myself as beautiful without his help. However, I knew that when I looked at these people, young, old, man, woman, child, with their red-brown skin, brown eyes, and graceful motions, they were the most beautiful people I’d ever seen. They moved like gazelles, even the old ones. And the men weren’t shy. They made direct eye contact right away and smiled very easily. Beautiful, beautiful people.

“Welcome,” a young man said, taking Diti’s hand. She grinned very wide.

“Welcome,” another young man said, pushing his way to Luyu.

The two of them were welcomed by several young men. Fanasi was welcomed by young women but he was too busy watching Diti and Luyu. When people simply nodded at me, keeping their distance, I wondered if even these isolated and protected people demonized the
Ewu
-born.

I was forced to throw this idea away when we got to our seats. There was Mwita, sitting beside a Vah woman. They were sitting too close for my liking. She said something to him and he smiled. Even sitting I could see that she had the longest legs I’d ever seen, long and muscled running legs like Zoubeir’s mother in the old story. My heart flipped. Back home, I’d heard rumors about Mwita dealing with older women. I’d never really asked him if they were true but I suspected there was some truth to them. This woman was maybe thirty-five. And like all the other Vah people, she was stunning. She smiled at me, deep dimples piercing each cheek. When she stood, she was taller than me. Mwita stood up with her.

“Welcome, Onyesonwu,” the woman said, tapping her chest. She looked me over. I looked her over, too. I felt the same sort of irritation that I felt with Ssaiku. This woman was also a sorcerer.
But she’s apprenticed
, I realized I knew.
Ssaiku’s apprentice
. She wore a dress with no sleeves, showing her muscled arms. It had a neckline that plunged low, showing off her large bosom. There were symbols etched into both of her biceps and on the swells of her breasts.

“Thank you,” I said. Behind me, the others were welcomed and told to sit.

“I am Ting,” she said.

Chief Usson stepped into the circle and the music immediately stopped.

“Now that our guests have arrived, let us settle,” he said. Without his frown, Chief Usson was quite engaging. He had one of those voices that made people listen.

Ting took my hand. “Sit,” she said. Her thumbnail brushed the palm of my hand. It was almost an inch long and sharp as a knife, the tip tinted bluish black. She sat beside me, Mwita on my other side.

“Please welcome our guests, Diti, Fanasi, Luyu, Mwita, and Onyesonwu.” Whispers flew through the gathering. “Yes, yes, we all know of this woman, the she-wizard, and her man.” Chief Usson motioned for us to stand. Before so many eyes, I felt my face grow warm.
She-wizard?
I thought.
What kind of title is that?

“Welcome,” Chief Usson said grandiosely.

“Welcome,” everyone else murmured. Then from somewhere someone started hissing. The hiss spread through the crowd. I glanced at Ting, worried.

“It’s all right,” she said.

It was some sort of ritual. People smiled as they hissed. I relaxed. Chieftess Sessa got up and stood next to Chief Usson. Together they recited something in a language that I didn’t know. The words had a lot of
S
and
Ah
sounds. Fanasi was right. If a snake could speak, it would sound like this. When they finished reciting, people jumped to their feet, cloths in hand.

“Take,” a young boy said, handing all five of us similar cloths. The cloths were thin but stiff with proofing gel. The band began to play.

“Come,” Ting said taking my hand and Mwita’s. Two young men approached Diti and another two Luyu, pulling them toward the giant banquet of food. Two women took Fanasi’s hands, too. It was happy chaos, as people jostled and grabbed and filled their cloths with food. It seemed to be some sort of game, for there was a lot of laughter.

A woman pushed past me and accidentally brushed my arm. A tiny blue spark popped off me and the woman yelped, jumping away. Several other people paused to stare. The woman didn’t seem angry but she wouldn’t meet my eyes as she mumbled, “Sorry, Onyesonwu. Sorry,” and hustled away from me.

I looked at Ting with wide eyes. “What . . .”

“Let me,” Ting said, taking my cloth.

“No, I can . . .”

“Just wait here,” she said firmly. “Do you eat meat?”

“Of course.”

She nodded and went to the banquet with Mwita. While I waited, two men passed too close to me. Again there were tiny sparks and both men seemed to experience a brief jolt of pain.

“Sorry,” I said holding my hands up.

“No,” one of them said, backing away thinking I was going to touch him again. “We are sorry.” It was both bizarre and annoying.

By the time we returned to our spot, Diti and Luyu had accumulated more men. All were so lovely that Luyu’s face looked as if it would break from the size of her smile. A man with thick luscious lips was feeding Diti a cut of roasted rabbit. Fanasi was also surrounded. The women vied for his attention. He was so busy answering their thousands of questions that he couldn’t eat or see what Diti and Luyu were doing.

Though none sat with Mwita, several women, young and old, openly stared at him, and even made way for him at the banquet. Every man stopped and greeted him warmly, some even shaking his hand. Men and boys only stole glances at me when they thought I wasn’t looking. And the women and girls openly avoided me. But there was one who couldn’t resist.

“That’s Eyess,” Ting said smiling, as the toddler came running to me and tried to take my hand. I tried to yank it away before she could touch me but she was too fast. She snatched my hand, almost making me drop my cloth of food. Large sparks popped. But she only laughed. The little girl who’d been riding with Chieftess Sessa seemed to be immune to whatever afflicted me. She said something to me in the Vah language.

“She does not know Ssufi, Eyess,” Ting told her. “Speak in Sipo or Okeke.”

“You look strange,” the little girl said in Okeke.

I laughed. “I know.”

“I like it,” she said. “Is your mother a camel?”

“No, my mother is human.”

“Then why does your camel tell me she takes care of you?”

“Eyess can hear them,” Ting explained. “She was born with the ability. That’s why she talks so well for a three-year-old. She’s been talking all her life to everything.”

Something caught the little girl’s eye. “Be back!” she said running off.

“Whose is she?” I asked.

“Chieftess Sessa and Chief Usson’s,” Ting said.

“So Chieftess Sessa and Chief Usson are married, then?”

“Goodness no,” Ting said. “Two chiefs can’t be married. That is Chieftess Sessa’s husband there.” She motioned to a man handing Eyess a small bundle of food. The little girl grabbed the food, kissed his knees, and disappeared again among people’s legs.