Who Fears Death (45 page)

We looked at each other, eyes wide, nostrils flared, mouths open.

We dropped all that we carried and ran into the chaos. Yes, even Luyu. There are gaps in my memory of what happened next. I remember Mwita running and a Nuru man pointing a gun at his back. I threw myself on the man. He dropped his gun. He tried to get ahold of me. I kicked back, pushing myself into the wilderness like it was the water. I could see him swiping at where my own body had been. Mwita ran off. I leaped after him, still in the wilderness. So that man, who would have killed Mwita, I did not kill.

Mwita and I had discussed how we would never flat out succumb to the violence people, Nuru and Okeke alike, believed
Ewu
were prone to by nature. Here, we went against all of that. We became exactly what people believed we were. But our reasons for using violence were not rooted in being
Ewu
. And Luyu shared that same purpose. She was a pure Okeke woman of the most docile blood according to the Great Book.

I remember giving my clothes to Mwita and then changing and shifting into things, growing claws and tiger’s teeth. I remember weaving between the physical world and the wilderness as if they were land and water. I knocked men off women, their penises still erect and slick with blood and wetness. I fought men with knives and guns. There were many Nuru soldiers and few Okeke ones, I fought both, helping whoever was unarmed. I took bullets into myself, expelled them, and moved on. I closed up my own stab and bite wounds. I smelled blood, sweat, semen, saliva, tears, urine, feces, sand, and smoke with the nostrils of various beasts. That is the little I remember.

We didn’t stop what was happening there but we allowed several Okeke to escape. And I pushed to the ground and healed as many Nuru people as I could subdue. Those men then cowered in corners, appalled at what they’d done only moments ago. In a few minutes, they would begin to help the wounded, Nuru and Okeke. They would put out the fires. Then they would try to stop those other Nurus who were happily killing Okekes. And then these healed Nurus would be killed by their own blood-crazed people.

When I came back to myself I was pulling Luyu into a hut. Its thatch roof was burning. Moments later, Mwita threw himself in with us. He gave me my clothes and I quickly dressed. Both he and Luyu carried guns. Not far ahead, it continued—the screaming, fighting, killing. Breathing heavily, we looked at each other.

“We can’t stop this,” Mwita finally said.

“We have to stop this,” Luyu said at the same time.

I closed my eyes and sighed.

From nearby a man shouted and another man screamed. The fire on the roof above us was spreading. “Once we find Daib, I think we’ll know what to do,” I said.

From then on, we snuck about. It was hard to do. The Nurus had suppressed the weak rebellion and now they were simply torturing people. The screeching mixed with the laughter and grunts of the torturers made my stomach turn. But somehow we got past it all and found ourselves faced with a spectacular sight.

Just behind the last group of huts were tall green stalks of corn. Hundreds and hundreds of them, a whole field of them. It was nothing nearly as breathtaking as the place my mother had shown me but it was still amazing to my desert-born eyes. My mother grew corn when we were in the desert and there were gardens of it in Jwahir but never this much. A breeze sent a whisper through the plants. It was a lovely sound. It sounded like peace, growth, bounty, and that hint of hope. Each plant was heavy with perfect ears of corn, ready to harvest. What an opportune time for the Nurus swoop in. The planning of General Daib, no doubt.

We’d left all of our travel things behind. Luckily, Luyu kept her portable in her pocket. We used its map to make our way through the cornfield. Durfa was on the other side. We moved quickly and stopped only once to yank and eat some corn. After walking for a half hour, we heard voices. We dropped down.

“I’ll go see,” I said, shrugging my clothes off.

Mwita took my arm. “Be careful,” he said. “It’ll be hard to locate us in this field.”

“Put my rapa on top of the stalks,” I said. I quickly changed into a vulture and flew off. The cornfield was huge but it was easy to locate the source of the voices. Less than a half mile away, in the middle of the cornfield was a hut.

I landed as quietly as I could on the edge of its thatch roof. I counted eight Okeke men in tattered clothes. Two had long black oily guns strapped to their backs.

“We should still go,” one was saying.

“Those
aren’t
our orders,” another insisted, looking frustrated.

I took off, flying high to get the lay of the land. The cornfield was flanked by the towns of Durfa on the west side, Gadi on the east, and the lake with no name on the south. I saw what I wanted to make sure of when I flew higher. No more hills. From here on, the land was flat.

With the rapa on the top of the corn stalks, it was easy to find Luyu and Mwita. “Rebels,” I told them as I put my clothes back on. “Not far. Maybe they can tell us where to find Daib.”

Mwita looked at Luyu. Then back at me with a worried look. “What?” Luyu asked.

“We should try to get there ourselves,” he said to me, ignoring Luyu’s question. “I trust rebels as much as I trust Nurus.”

“Oh,” I said, remembering Mwita’s experience with Okeke rebels. “Right. I . . . wasn’t thinking.”

“What about me?” Luyu said. “I could . . .”

“No,” he said. “Too dangerous. We can do things, but you. . . .”

“I have a gun,” she said.

“They have two,” I said. “And they know how to use theirs.”

We stood there thinking.

“I don’t want to kill anyone if we don’t have to,” Mwita said, sighing. He rubbed his sweaty face. Then suddenly, he threw his gun into the cornfield. “I hate killing. I’d rather die than keep doing it.”

“But this is about more than you or any of us,” Luyu said, looking appalled. She moved to retrieve it.

“Leave it,” Mwita said firmly.

She froze. Then she threw her gun away, too.

“How about this,” I said. “Mwita, we make ourselves ignorable. That way Luyu can approach them and if they try anything, we have the element of surprise. Tell them . . . tell them that you, bring good news of the coming of Onyesonwu, something like that. If they’re rebels then they must still have
some
hope.”

We slowly approached the hut, Mwita on Luyu’s left and me on Luyu’s right. I remember the look on Luyu’s face. Her jaw was set, her dark skin glistened with sweat, there were droplets of blood on her cheeks. Her Afro was lopsided. She looked so different from the girl she was back in Jwahir. But one thing about her was the same—her audacity.

Some sat on stools or on the ground, three of them playing a game of Warri. Others stood or leaned against the hut. They’d all used red paste to draw stripes on their faces. None of them looked over thirty. When they saw Luyu, the two with the guns immediately pointed them at her. She didn’t flinch.

“Eh, who is this?” a soldier asked in a low voice, standing up from the game of Warri. He pulled a dull-looking blade from his pocket. “Duty,
ta!
Don’t shoot,” he said, holding up a hand. He looked past Luyu. “Check around the hut.” All but one of the gun-toting soldiers ran off into the cornfield. He kept his gun pointed at Luyu. The head soldier looked her up and down. “How many are with you?”

“I bring you good news.”

“We’ll see,” he said.

“My name is Luyu,” she said, holding his eyes. “I’m from Jwahir. Have you heard of the Sorcerer Onyesonwu?”

“I have,” the head soldier said with a nod.

“She’s here with me. So is her companion, Mwita,” Luyu said. “We’ve just come from that village over there.” She pointed behind her. When she moved, the man holding the gun flinched.

“Is it lost?” the head soldier asked.

“Yes,” Luyu said.

“Where is she then? Where is he?”

Some of the men were returning now and saying that it was clear.

“Will you harm us?” Luyu asked.

He looked Luyu in the eye. “No.” His restraint broke and a tear fell from his eye. “We’d
never
harm you.” He held out a hand and quietly said, “Down.” The soldier lowered his gun. Mwita and I showed ourselves. Four of the men shouted and ran off, one of them fainted, and three of them dropped to their knees.

“Whatever you need,” the head soldier said.

 

Only three of them would speak to us: the leader of the group, whose name was Anai, and two soldiers named Bunk and Tamer. The others kept their distance.

“Ten days ago, they started again and this time whole armies are amassing in Durfa,” Anai said. He turned and spat. “Another push. Maybe the last. My wife, children, mother-in-law, I finally sent them east.”

I’d built a normal fire and we were roasting ears of corn.

“But you haven’t seen any actual armies pass?” Luyu asked.

Anai shook his head. “We were told to wait here. We haven’t heard anything from anyone in two days.”

“I don’t think you will be hearing from anyone,” Mwita said.

Anai nodded. “How did you all escape?”

“Luck,” Luyu said. Anai didn’t press the issue.

“How’d you traveled so far without camels?” Bunk asked.

“We had camels for a time but they were wild and had their own plans,” I said.

“Eh?” he said.

Anai and Tamer chuckled. “Strange,” Anai said. “You’re strange people.”

“I think we’ve been traveling for five months,” Mwita said.

“I applaud you,” Anai said patting Mwita’s shoulder. “All this way, leading two women at that.”

Luyu and I looked at each other, rolled our eyes but said nothing.

“You seem healthy,” Bunk said. “You’re blessed.”

“We are,” Mwita said. “We are.”

“What do you know of the General?” I asked.

Several of the men nearby listening to our conversation looked at me, fearful.

“Wicked man,” Bunk said. “It’s almost night. Don’t speak of him.”

“He’s just a man,” Tamer said, looking annoyed. “What do you want to know?”

“Where can we find him?” I asked.

“Eh! Are you mad?” Bunk said, horrified.

“Why do you want to know?” Anai asked, frowning and leaning forward.

“Don’t ask what you really don’t want to know,” Mwita said.

“Please, just tell us where we can find him,” I said.

“No one knows where the General lives or if he even has a home in this world,” Anai said. “But he has a building that he works from. It’s never guarded. He needs no protection.” He paused for emphasis. “It’s a plain building. Go to the Conversation Space—it’s a large open space in the center of Durfa—his building is on the north side. The front door is blue.” He stood up. “We move tomorrow to Gadi, orders or no orders. Stay with us tonight. We’ll protect you. Durfa is close to here. Just through the corn.”

“We can just walk in?” Luyu asked. “Or will people attack us?”

“You two, no,” Anai said, motion to Mwita and me. “They’ll see your
Ewu
faces and kill you in seconds. Unless you make yourselves . . . invisible again.” He turned to Luyu. “We can give
you
all you need tomorrow to move about in Durfa with the least trouble.”

THEY INSISTED ON GIVING US THE HUT FOR THE NIGHT. Even the soldiers who refused to speak to us agreed to sleep outside. With guards, we felt safe enough to actually sleep. Well, Luyu slept. She was snoring seconds after curling up on the floor. Mwita and I didn’t sleep for two reasons. The first reason happened soon after I lay down. I was thinking about Daib.
All it’ll take is his death,
I kept thinking.
Cut off the snake’s head.

Just as Mwita stretched out beside me and put his arm around my waist, I started lifting. I moved through his arm, my body insubstantial. “Eh?” he exclaimed, shocked. “Oh, no, you don’t!” He reached out and wrapped his arm around my waist and shoved me down. I lifted again, my mind focused on Daib. Then, with a loud grunt, he pushed me back to the floor, back into my body. I snapped out of my angry trance.

“How . . .” I breathed. Daib would’ve killed me. It would have all ended just like that. “You’re not a sorcerer,” I said. “How can you . . .”

“What is
wrong
with you!” he exclaimed, working hard to keep his voice at a whisper. “Remember what Sola said!”

“I didn’t mean to.”

We stared at each other both generally appalled at things we weren’t even sure of.

“What kind of pair are we?” Mwita mumbled, rolling on his back.

“I don’t know,” I said. I sat up. “But how did you do that? You’re not . . .”

“I don’t know or care,” he said, irritated. “Stop reminding me of what I’m not.”

I sucked my teeth loudly and turned away from him. Outside I heard one of the soldiers whisper and the other chuckle to himself.

“I’m . . . I’m sorry,” I said. I paused. “Thank you. Again, you saved me.”

I heard him sigh. He rolled me over to face him. “That’s what I’m here for,” he said. “To save you.”

I took his face and brought it to mine. It was like a hunger that neither of us could satiate. By the time the sun was coming up my nipples were raw from Mwita’s lips, there were scratch marks on Mwita’s back and bite marks on his neck. We ached sweetly. And all of it energized instead of tired us. He held me close and looked deep into my eyes. “I wish we had more time. I’m not finished with you,” he said smiling.

“I’m not finished with you either,” I said, grinning.

“A nice house,” he said. “Out in the desert, away from everything. Two floors, lots of windows. No electricity. Four children. Three boys, one girl.”

“Only one girl?”

“She’ll be more trouble than all three boys combined, trust me,” Mwita said.

There were footsteps outside the hut. A face peeked in. I pulled my rapa more tightly around me. “Just checking,” the soldier said. Mwita drew a rapa around his waist and went out to speak with the soldier. I lay there staring at the scorched black ceiling that in the dim predawn light looked like an abyss.