Akata Witch (8 page)

They passed more shops. Many of them sold normal stuff like clothes, jewelry, computer software, and cell phone accessories. Sunny and Orlu waited outside while Chichi and Sasha went into a tobacco shop to buy Banga brand herbal cigarettes. “They’re supposed to be healthier than tobacco cigarettes. Smell nicer, too,” Orlu said with a shrug. “But to me a cigarette is a cigarette. A nasty habit.”

“Agreed,” Sunny said.

Next, they stopped outside a place called Bola’s Store for Books.

“We’ll be quick,” Chichi said, when Orlu gave her a look. They were all hungry. Chichi took Sunny’s heavy purse. “Come on, Sunny.”

It was large and cool inside. In the center, wicker chairs were set up around a wicker coffee table. A woman wearing a big metallic blue headwrap and a matching expensive-looking traditional dress was reading a dusty book. When she turned a page, she ground the book’s filth into her lovely clothes a little more. Her hands were covered with the book’s dust, too.
What book is that interesting?
Sunny wondered. She wanted to see, but Chichi led her in a different direction.

There were books written in Hausa, Urdu, Yoruba, Arabic, Efik, German, Igbo, Egyptian hieroglyphs, Sanskrit, even one written in a language Chichi called Nsibidi. “Can you read N—Nsibidi?” Sunny asked with a laugh, picking up the book. What kind of name was that? It sounded like a stifled sneeze.

“Later, Sunny,” Chichi said, taking the book from her and putting it back. “I’m starving. Let’s make this quick.”

All the people in the store were quiet, reading and browsing with such intensity that she ached to look at some of the books, too. They passed an empty section with a warning posted above it saying, ENTER AND BUY AT YOUR OWN RISK.

“Here it is,” Chichi said. They stopped at a shelf marked, INTROS/OUTED/EYES OPENED. She picked up a slim green paperback titled
Fast Facts for Free Agents
. “Come on,” she said. “Orlu’s going to spontaneously combust if we don’t hurry.”

Sunny held her heavy purse as Chichi fished out a copper
chittim
and handed it to the old man behind the table. He looked at the
chittim
, reached into his pocket, brought out a pinch of what looked like sand, and rubbed it against the
chittim
. There was an instant burst of wet mist. It smelled like roses. The man smiled and rubbed his hands in the mist. Chichi did the same. Sunny imitated her and found that her hands came away smelling like roses, too.

“Just making sure,” the man said.

“After so many years, you still don’t trust me?” Chichi asked.

“Efik women and girls are the craftiest charlatans,” he said.

Chichi laughed. “My father was Igbo, remember, Mohammed?”

“Eh,” the man said, handing her the book and five shiny silver
chittim
. To Sunny, these looked much more valuable than the dull copper ones. “Daughters are their mother’s children inevitably.” He motioned to Sunny. “The book’s for her?”

“Yes. This is Sunny,” Chichi said, handing her the book. She put the
chittim
and the book in her purse and waved shyly at the man.

He looked at Sunny for a long time and then said, “You should take her to my second wife for a divination reading.”

“I know,” Chichi said. “Not today, though. Tell your wife to expect us sometime.”

“She probably already knows when you’ll be coming.”

They were starving and it was nearly two o’clock, so Sasha suggested that they go to Mama Put’s Putting Place. The small outdoor restaurant was quick. It was run by a fat woman named Mama Put, like many Nigerian women who owned food stands. She stood behind a counter collecting money and barking out orders to her employees. Sunny ordered a large plate of
jallof
rice and roasted spicy chicken and a bottle of orange Fanta. She paid with one silver
chittim
and Mama Put gave her back six small gold ones.

They sat at a table in the shadiest part of the restaurant. The rice was nicely spicy, the chicken savory. As soon as her stomach was calmed, she said, “Okay, talk. I don’t care if you spit food or choke while you do it. Just keep explaining.”

“Ahh!” Sasha exclaimed, his mouth hanging open. He’d just tasted his pepper soup. “Woohoo! That’s hot! That’s
hot
!” He swallowed, and then used his napkin to blow his nose. “Damn!”

“Good, though?” Orlu asked.

“Oh, yeah. Really good!” He coughed. “Wow. Gotta get used to the food here. Not even good soul food has anything on this!”

“Mama Put uses tainted peppers,” Orlu said.

“Those are peppers that grow near spill sites—places where they dump out used magical brews,” Chichi explained to Sunny. “They’re popular in Africa and India.”

“Definitely
not
America,” Sasha added.

Sunny filed this information away. “Okay. Well, come on. Tell me what you know.”

Orlu stuffed a large chunk of palm oil-soaked yam into his mouth, then took a bite of his large butter cookie. Sasha, now sweating profusely, dove back into his pepper soup.

“Fine, I’ll do it,” Chichi said, annoyed. “I’m the most knowledgeable, anyway.” Neither boy argued with her. “Let’s start from the start. So there are Leopard People. We’ve always been around, all over the world. In some countries, we’re called witches, sorcerers, shamans, wizards—things like that, I guess. So it’s not just black people.”

Sunny took a deep breath. “Okay, I have to ask—do you all have anything to do with . . . child witches?”

In some parts of Nigeria, people marked certain children as evil “witches.” These poor children were blamed for anything that went wrong, from illnesses to accidents to death. Eventually, the community would rise up and enact all kinds of punishment to get rid of their “magical powers.” Really, it was just a form of child abuse. Sunny had even seen documentaries and movies on child witches.

“No,” Orlu firmly said. “We’ve got absolutely
nothing
to do with that. That’s just some twisted Lamb superstition gone very wrong. Those children are just normal innocent non-magical kids being scapegoated.”

Sunny breathed a sigh of relief.

“Anyway, being a Leopard Person is not genetic, really,” Chichi continued. “It’s
spiritual
. The spiritual affects the physical. . .. It’s complicated. All you need to know is that Leopard People tend to keep it in the family. But sometimes it skips and jumps, like with you. It sounds like your grandmother was of Leopard spirit. By the way, all this is in that book I just helped you buy. So read it.”

“Oh, I plan to. Go on.”

“So Leopard Knocks is the main West African headquarters,” she said. “Sasha, where’s the headquarters in the United States?”

Sasha smirked. “New York, of course. But I don’t consider that place the head of anything. It doesn’t represent black folks. We
are
a minority, I guess. As a matter of fact—everything’s biased toward European juju. The
African American
headquarters is on the Gullah Islands in South Carolina. We call it Tar Nation.”

Sunny laughed. “Nice name.”

“We try,” Sasha said proudly.

“You know how you had to be initiated to come here?” Chichi asked.

“Yeah.”

“Well, because we have Leopard parents, Orlu and I have been able to come here all our lives. We knew our spirit faces, so we could cross. We both went through the first level, the initiation, two years ago. It’s called
Ekpiri,
” she said. “Most go through it around fourteen or fifteen.”

“But I’m twelve,” Sunny said.

“Yeah, you’re early,” Chichi said. “So was Orlu.”

“So was I,” Sasha said. “I went through it last year. I’m thirteen.”

“How old were you, Chichi?” Sunny asked.

She only smiled. Yet again, she managed to keep her age hidden. “The second level is
Mbawkwa
—you go through that at around sixteen and seventeen. That’s when you really start learning the heavy stuff. You have to pass all these tough tests to get in.”

“I can pass all that right now,” Sasha boasted.

“Me, too,” Chichi boasted back. “With my eyes closed.”

Orlu scoffed. “Yeah, well, the rules say you can’t yet.”

“Screw rules,” Sasha said. “They’re made to be broken.”

“Only when you’ve mastered them,” Orlu said quietly.

“So the third level is one that very, very,
very
few ever pass, that’s
Ndibu
. It’s like getting a PhD. To pass it you have to attend a masquerade meeting
and
get a masquerade’s
consent
. A
real
masquerade, not a bunch of men and boys all dressed up.”

“A real one?” Sunny asked quietly, as if to speak of them too loudly would call the spirits from their dwelling place in the other world.

“Yeah,” Chichi said. “And that means you have to die in some way or something. I don’t really understand it.”

“So what’s the last grade?” Sunny asked.

“
Oku Akama
. No one knows how you get there. In Nigeria, only eight living people have reached it. Four live around Leopard Knocks. Anatov is one—he is the ‘scholar on the outside.’”

“But he’s not that old,” Sunny said.

“No, he isn’t. He’s only fifty-something, I think.”

“Ugh, how can such a mean guy be so important?”

“Sometimes too much knowledge can make you mean. You know too much.”

Orlu loudly sucked his teeth. “You always make excuses for him. Teacher’s pet.”

“You wish
you
were,” Chichi said, looking smug. “Anyway, Kehinde and Taiwo are twins who passed the last grade, and they went on to become the ‘scholars of the links.’ An old woman named Sugar Cream is the fourth, the ‘scholar on the inside.’ She lives in the Obi Library most of the time. She’s the oldest and most respected. She’s the Head Librarian.”

Sunny frowned. “Librarian? Why is that such a big—”

“Let me tell you something Chichi and Sasha have a hard time respecting,” Orlu said, putting his fork down. “Leopard People—all our kind all over the world—are not like Lambs. Lambs think money and material things are the most important thing in the world. You can cheat, lie, steal, kill, be dumb as a rock, but if you can brag about money and having lots of things and your bragging is true, that bypasses everything. Money and material things make you king or queen of the Lamb world. You can do no wrong, you can do anything.

“Leopard People are different. The only way you can earn
chittim
is by
learning
. The more you learn, the more
chittim
you earn. Knowledge is the center of all things. The Head Librarian of the Obi Library of Leopard Knocks is the keeper of the greatest stock of knowledge in West Africa.” Orlu sat back. “One day, we’ll take you to the Obi Library. You’ll see.”

“Wow,” Sunny said. “I like that.”

Orlu smiled and nodded. “It’s great, isn’t it?”

“People
are
too focused on money. It’s supposed to be a tool, not
the
prize to be won.”

“Spoken like an upward-standing Leopard Person,” Chichi said mockingly. “No wonder my mother likes you so much.”

Now Sunny understood why Chichi and her mother lived the way they did. “Your mother doesn’t care for material things, does she?”

“Neither do I,” Chichi said. “My mother’s reached every grade except”—she paused, not wanting to speak its name—“the last. And people think that someday she will.”

“Chichi’s mother is a Nimm priestess,” Orlu explained. “One of the last princesses in the Queen Nsedu spiritline.”

Before Sunny could ask what that was, Sasha said, “Not all Leopard People live by the Leopard philosophy.”

Orlu nodded. “Like any other place, there are killers even here in Leopard Knocks. There are people who only want power and money, who don’t earn any
chittim
at all, who’d rather steal what they want. Some people are rich in
chittim,
yet are still set on having power and Lamb wealth. I think they’re the most dangerous.”

It made sense. There were flavors of “Leopard-dom,” too, they explained. For example, Orlu’s parents owned a fairly large home and another home in Owerri. Unlike Chichi’s mother, they liked nice things.

Sasha frowned and looked at Chichi. “You know what? We’re an
Oha
coven, aren’t we?”

Orlu sucked his teeth. “Come off it, we’re too young,” he said just as Chichi smiled at Sasha and said, “You think so, too?”

“Think about it,” Sasha said. “First, there are four of us. There aren’t any more in our group, right?”

“Nope,” Chichi said.

“Right. Second, one of us is an outsider—me, being from a different country, a descendant of slaves and such. Right, Orlu?”

Orlu shrugged, refusing to respond.

Sasha chuckled. “And one of us is outside in.” He gestured at Sunny. “Black on the inside but white on the outside.”

Sunny sucked her teeth but said nothing.

“Just telling it like it is,” Sasha said lightly.

“And two of us are girls and two of us are boys,” Chichi added.

Then together, Chichi and Sasha said, “Balance.”

“Whatever,” Sunny grumbled. “What’s an Oho coven?”

“
Oha
,” Sasha corrected. “An
Oha
coven. It’s a group of mystical combination, set up to defend against something bad.”

“So, what does that have to do with us?” she asked. “What bad thing are we—”

Suddenly, they all looked above her head. Sasha cursed loudly. Sunny looked up just as whatever it was exploded. Warm, wet air that smelled like rotten meat enveloped her. She threw her arms over her head and ducked to the side, falling off her chair. Things hit her head and arms and dropped on the table. She heard Sasha spit several more curses as white chips rained down, clicking and clacking. Something black fell lightly onto the table as well.

Sunny quickly got up and looked. “What is—is that
hair
?”

There were tufts of it all over the table. It looked like the floor of a barber shop. “And—and what the hell is that!” She pointed to red chunks of raw meat among the hair tufts. She felt her gorge rise.