Binti: The Night Masquerade

by Nnedi Okorafor

  “Who are you talking to?” I asked.

  “Your grandmother,” he said. “You know how she loves plants. These will blow her mind.” He paused. Then he chuckled. “She knows of them already.”

  I smiled then I coughed, Okwu’s gasp billowing all around me. I heard footsteps scrambling away. When I looked back, I saw a group of children hiding behind the Undying trees, several of them giggling.

  “They’re just curious,” I told Okwu in Meduse, hoping the low rumbly vibration of the language would scare the young girls off. It didn’t.

  “One of them touched my okuoko,” Okwu rumbled back. The children fled at the sound of its Meduse voice. “If they want death by stinger, I will give it to them.”

  “Remember,” I said, switching back to Otjihimba. I smiled. “My otjize healed your okuoko. The little girl who touched you was covered with otjize. She can’t be bad for you.”

  “Her otjize would burn my flesh,” Okwu rumbled in Meduse, irritably.

  “If she touched you, then her otjize is on your okuoko,” I said, laughing. “I smell nothing burning.”

  “Your people are rude,” Mwinyi suddenly snapped. He was glaring at three men standing at the front of a building laughing. One of them pointed at Mwinyi and opened and closed his hand. “Crude, rude people.”

  I grasped his arm and pulled him along. “I apologize on their behalf,” I said.

  “Small-minded insular people,” he muttered. “I can speak their language, they can’t even greet me in mine.” Thankfully, he let me pull him along. I didn’t allow myself to think about what they must have been saying about me all this time. And now that there was Khoush-Meduse violence again that had led to the destruction of part of Osemba, and here I was bringing a Meduse to the town’s most sacred space, those sentiments would surely worsen. But in our walk across Osemba, though more kids and a few adults taunted Okwu and several spat and shouted at Mwinyi, not one person spoke to me.

  * * *

  The Osemba House was a giant smooth dome made of sandstone that sat on the eastern edge of town. The Root was on the westernmost edge, so the two buildings were as far from each other as one could get and still be in Osemba. The Osemba House was built between three Undying trees and inside was a stone platform built around the Sacred Well.

  Daily, women from this side of Osemba came to collect water to drink, for the water here had a refreshing taste and settled upset stomachs in a way that the water pumped around town from the underground river did not. My mother would venture to this side of town once in a while and when she brought home the strange water, we’d all fight each other for our tiny cup of it that we’d sip after dinner. In the back, the outdoor meeting grounds faced the open desert.

  “Let’s go around,” I said. “That’s where they’ll be.” I wasn’t sure how anyone would tolerate the three of us, tainted individuals by Himba standards, walking so close to the Sacred Well.

  Okwu stopped for a moment and seemed to contemplate the building. When I turned to look at it, I laughed despite everything. “The Himba are a passive-aggressive people,” it said in Meduse.

  I nodded. “We have ways of making our point strongly without saying a word.” It was only now, after being so close to a Meduse, that I gazed upon the Osemba House and realized it looked very much like a Meduse, the enemy of a people who treated the Himba like intelligent slaves. Everything is so complicated and connected, I thought. Everything. And nothing is coincidence, or so my mother used to always say. The space between my eyes stung. “Used to.” No longer. I walked faster.

  Before I came around the side of the building, I heard the fire. The Sacred Fire was always burning, but only when an Okuruwo was called was it grown to this size. They all turned. They had all been waiting for us. Five old men, including Chief Kapika, two old women, including Titi—the woman who led the pilgrimage into the desert—and one young man.

  I sighed, my eyes meeting the young man’s eyes. It was Dele, my best friend who’d stopped being my best friend when I snuck away to attend Oomza Uni. Who over the last year had decided to grow a beard and was tapped to become an apprentice to Chief Kapika. I had spoken to him just before the Enyi Zinariya came for me. He’d contacted my astrolabe. We’d spoken briefly and he’d looked at me with a pity so painful I’d been glad when the conversation was over. The last thing he’d said to me was, “I can’t help you, Binti.”

  They all sat around the fire, the men wearing deep red kaftans and pants and the women wearing clothes similar to mine, a red wraparound skirt and a stiff red top. Both Titi and the other women had otjize rolled locks, braided into tessellating triangle patterns and extending down their backs. Dele’s head was shaven on both sides, the dense hair on top twisted into a thick braid that extended behind his head like a horn, stiff with a thin layer of otjize.

  “Come,” Chief Kapika said.

  Okwu’s voice came to me as if it were thrown. I don’t like fire, it said.

  I approached the Himba Council. It won’t hurt you if you don’t get too close, I responded. Stay behind me. I glanced at Mwinyi and he gave me a brief nod. I led the way, Mwinyi behind me and Okwu behind him. I still wore my pilgrimage outfit that my mother had bought me. Fine, fine clothes for one of the finest moments in my life. But now the red skirt was caked with sand and my stiff top was dirty with my own sweat and old otjize. And my family was dead.

  They sat around the Sacred Fire, Dele on the other side, beside Chief Kapika and another man, the two women on both sides of me, Titi to my right. I took a seat in the space made for me, completing the circle, and Mwinyi and Okwu settled behind me.

  I lowered my head. “I’m honored that the Himba Council has answered my call for this … Okuruwo,” I said, speaking the word a bit too loudly as I pushed it from my lips. “Thank you.”

  “The council recognizes its daughter,” all of them responded. Except Dele, who said nothing. But he was not here as an elder, so he could not speak as one.

  “Binti,” Chief Kapika began. “You left us like a thief in the night, abandoning your family—”

  “I didn’t ‘abandon’ my family,” I insisted.

  “You gathered us here tonight, small woman,” Titi snapped at me. “Don’t interrupt an elder.”

  I fought my indignation and the others waited to see if I could control myself. I exhaled a long breath and lowered my eyes.

  “You abandoned your family,” Chief Kapika repeated. “Like a thief in the night. For your own needs. Nearly died for your decision and were forced to accept a partnering with the Meduse in order to survive.” He paused, looking at the others. “But blood is thicker than … water. Like a good Himba, you came home. But you brought the enemy of a people who sees us as less than they are. And when the Khoush came for it, they came for us, too. Now there is war in our homes and around our lands again. Instigated by the actions of one of our own, you. Your lineage here is dead and you’ve bonded with the savage other part of your bloodline … why shouldn’t we simply run you out of Osemba?”

  I looked up sharply. Angry. “Because the Himba do not turn their own out. We go inward. We protect what is ours by embracing it,” I said. “Even when one’s bloodline is … dead.” I paused, the rage and the sight of the roaring fire making me feel more powerful. I stood up before the Sacred Fire. “I left because I wanted more,” I said. “I was not leaving my family, my people, or my culture. I wanted to add to it all. I was born to go to that school and when I got there, even after everything that happened, that became even clearer. I fit right into Oomza Uni.

  “But I had to come home, too. I need it all, you, school, space. I wanted to go on my pilgrimage in order to align myself … but it wasn’t my path.” I paused, to gather my thoughts. “Okwu is my friend … yes, fine, my partner. So I also wanted to show it my home. I guess I wanted to open things up here, too. Harmonize the Khoush, Meduse, and Himba”—I motioned to Mwinyi—“and now the Enyi Zinariya, too.” I turned back to the fire. “This is why I
called this gathering. There’s been terror and death and destruction, but I want to pull harmony out of that now. We can.” I looked at each of their frowning faces. “Dele,” I said, looking straight at him. He jumped a little, surprised. “You know me better than everyone here. You know my heart. You know how much I love everyone and how much I will give to protect and make everyone happy. Hear what I am about to ask.”

  I pointed in the direction of the lake and said, “Right now as we speak, the Meduse wait in the lake.”

  Every single council member gasped.

  “Binti, no!” Dele exclaimed. “That can’t be true!”

  “Eh!” one of the elders I didn’t know exclaimed. “At this moment?”

  “Yes,” I said. “There’s a ship hiding in the water. Maybe more than one.” I let my words sink in. Dele continued staring at me with wide eyes as the others whispered among themselves.

  “Your people are not the type to survive war,” Okwu said from behind me in Otjihimba.

  I heard Mwinyi chuckle.

  “The Khoush tried to kill a Meduse, despite the pact, despite Okwu being a peaceful ambassador who’d come to Khoushland in peace,” I said. “Oomza Uni gained permission from both the Khoush government and Meduse chief for Okwu to come here. And the Khoush burned my home, k-killing my family when they could not find and kill me, an honorary Meduse. The Meduse have reason to start war. And the Khoush want it, too. And they will fight over Osemba and Khoushland will burn and broil again. Unless we Himba meet with both sides and stop them.” Then I asked what I hadn’t even told Mwinyi or Okwu about because they weren’t Himba and thus could never understand. “Please, call on the Himba deep culture.”

  “No!” Titi suddenly shouted.

  “Please,” I said, barely able to believe what I was doing, what I was saying. A year and half ago, I could never have imagined I’d be right here in this moment. Deep culture goes deeper than what it is, it goes deeper than culture, it crosses over. It communes with the mathematics that dwell within all things and only the collective of Himba Councils could evoke it.

  “We will not! Who are you to ask that?” Titi snarled, disgusted. She took a deep breath, composing herself. When she spoke again, she was much calmer. “This isn’t our fight, Binti. We pack up and go to the pilgrimage grounds and wait there until the Khoush and Meduse exhaust or kill themselves. We bring all our astrolabe supplies, all of our valuables, we go nomad as we were so long ago and we stay together, until this is over!”

  “I’ve … I’ve seen the Night Masquerade,” I admitted. “Again. In the day. Don’t you have to listen to me?”

  Silence, as everyone turned to look at Chief Kapika, as if waiting for him to say something. Chief Kapika only shook his head, refusing to speak on this subject. Again, I heard Mwinyi chuckling behind me. He seemed to be enjoying this more than everyone else here. “These people don’t understand anything,” he muttered.

  In the silence, Dele suddenly got up and came to me. He stood over me and looked down. “Get up, Binti.” When I did, he roughly grabbed my shoulder. “Come on.”

  Mwinyi was already up. “Where are you taking her?” he demanded. “I’m coming too.” Okwu also floated to us.

  “Stay here,” Dele said, holding up a hand. “Talk to them. Say what you can. She’s safe. I just need to speak with her.”

  “Binti?” Mwinyi asked, looking at me. “Alright?”

  “I’ll be fine,” I said. And I can call Okwu if I need help, I said with my eyes. As if he understood, he nodded and stepped back.

  Then Dele was pushing me toward the Osemba House back entrance. I glanced behind me at Okwu and Mwinyi, but Mwinyi was facing the still shocked and confused-looking council and saying, “My name is Mwinyi and I’m from the desert and I guess I’m representing the Enyi Zinariya. From what I know…”

  Then we were inside and Dele was leading me to the Sacred Well in the center of the dome. “What is wrong with you?” he asked. He looked down at me. When had he gotten so much taller?

  “What’s…” I froze when I looked into his dark eyes. They were glistening with tears. I’d known Dele practically all my life. Even when we were small children, I’d never seen Dele cry. Never.

  “You saved yourself before,” he said. “Do you want to die now?”

  “If we don’t do something, we’ll all die,” I said. “The Khoush had to have detected when the Meduse came. They let them so they can attack from the ground. They’re flying about looking for the Meduse now. There’s not time for us to get out of here before it starts. Not with our things. We’ll die in that desert if we leave now.”

  “The Night Masquerade has shown itself to you, a girl, twice! And the second time, it couldn’t even wait for the night! You need to stop! You bring chaos,” he said. “I shouldn’t … s—” He looked away.

  I stepped back from him. Staring. I knew what he’d meant to say, “I shouldn’t even be speaking to you.” I should have been dead to him already, for traditionally a woman who ran away from home was useless. And one who saw the Night Masquerade no longer existed. I was a ghost to him, a spirit.

  “They have taught you well,” I said. “Rigid. Have you dug a shelter beside an Undying tree where you will take all your wives and children and hide deep inside until the war passes? Will they use the red clay of the shelter’s wall to make themselves beautiful for you while you pass the time speaking natural mathematics to the Seven? Big man you are now with your beard and apprentice status.”

  “You mock your own people now,” he said.

  “I’m trying to save it!”

  “If you hadn’t left in the first place, this wouldn’t be happening,” he snapped.

  “I had to leave,” I said. “Dele, I’m not … I’m not meant to stay here. You know it. You’ve always known it. I was always going out into the desert. You know? Because it’s huge, it’s vast. When I look back, the desert and space, they feel similar.”

  “Well, I was always meant to go inward, into what makes us us,” he said. “And that’s just as vast. And doing that will make me the next chief, not get us destroyed.”

  His words were like a punch in the chest and suddenly I felt breathless. War was coming as we stood here arguing. Who knew what Mwinyi and Okwu were saying to the elders. And the one who knew me even before I was fully me harbored such a dislike of me that it seemed he would have been happier if I’d died on the Third Fish last year.

  “Let me do my part to fix this, Dele,” I begged him. “The elders can convince the Khoush to come. I know how to call the Meduse to come. Then, the Himba Council can use Himba deep culture to get them to make peace with the Meduse.”

  Dele seemed to think about this, walking away from me toward the Sacred Well. He leaned against the stone wellhead and looked down into it. He turned to me. “You can call them? How?”

  I didn’t look away. I was what I was and I was many things now. I touched my okuoko. “With these.”

  “Your hair?”

  “They’re not hair anymore.”

  “So it’s true,” he said. “You’ve become the wife of a Meduse.”

  I frowned. “I’m no one’s wife.”

  “You came home and you came with it,” he said. “It stayed at the home of your family. It’s been intimate with you enough that your body has changed.”

  “Okwu didn’t do this,” I said. “I don’t even know which of—”

  “The Meduse are a hive-minded people,” he said. “What one does, they all do. If you use those to communicate with Okwu, you’re communicating with the others, too.”

  “No,” I said. “Only Okwu. And in a distant way, the Meduse chief. You don’t understand.”

  “I’ve heard some of the story of what you went through from your father. Okwu would have killed you on that ship, but on Oomza University, it’s your closest companion. You’ve become Okwu’s wife.”

  I dismissively waved a hand at him. “Just help me, Dele. Just go talk to them. They’ll hear yo
u.”

  “Did you really see the Night Masquerade?”

  I nodded.

  “Twice?”

  I nodded again. “Second time was on the road outside the Root.”

  “Earlier today?”

  “Yes.”

  “During the day?”

  “Yes.”

  “Unbelievable. Kai!” he exclaimed, striding away from me. Then he stopped and came back.

  “What?” I softly asked as he walked up to me. I flinched as he reached forward and took one of my okuoko and lightly pressed it. My hand shot out before I realized I was going to do it and slapped his hand away. “Stop!” I said.

  He looked at the otjize on his hand and then at my okuoko, whose transparent blue now showed a bit. He sniffed my otjize and then gazed at me for several moments. He eyed me as he rubbed his short beard with the otjize on his fingers, then he turned and walked away.

  I stepped over to the wellhead and looked down into the water. Down into the darkness that was nothing like the darkness of space. Not as complete. Not as foreign. When I heard shouting and then rumbling loud enough to shake the building, I turned and strode outside. “No, no, no, no!” I muttered. We’d run out of time.

  The Khoush sky whales, each the size of two houses, landed in the desert, close enough to whip dust into the air that nearly put out the Sacred Fire. The Khoush knew exactly where they were landing. The Khoush had no respect for my people. Each ship was covered with blue and white solar tiles with giant wind turbines under each wing. They’d always reminded me of beetles with the skin of lizards. And though they moved smoothly through the sky like water beetles in water, they landed in such a way that everyone in the area would know it.

  As two of the elders scrambled to stand before the fire and hold open their garments to protect it, Dele, Chief Kapika, and Titi gathered together to meet whoever alighted from the sky whales. I ran to Okwu and Mwinyi.

  Okwu, hide! I shouted through my okuoko. It turned to me. You should—

  Okwu flew at me just as I heard a sharp zip! Then Okwu’s okuoko and then its dome was covering me. I felt every part of my body tense up. There was weight but not much, but also a sense of being enveloped and gently held, hugged. Protected. Okwu’s flesh smelled like pepper seed, spicy and hot. I could see everything right through it, tinted a blue. Chief Kapika and Dele were running at the sky whales, waving their hands, shouting, putting themselves in the space between Okwu, Mwinyi, and me and the sky whales. Then Okwu was releasing its gas all around us and the shocked look of Mwinyi, the laboring smoky fire, and a few of the elders who’d turned our way disappeared. I instinctively held my breath.