Akata Witch: A Novel

by Nnedi Okorafor

  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,” Sunn
y 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.

  “Relax,” Chichi said.

  “Ugh, in a restaurant?” Orlu said. “Filthy!”

  “Come on, the place is open,” Sasha said. “It’s not like we’re indoors.”

  Sunny looked at the table a little more closely and screeched. The white chips were teeth!

  Mama Put came bustling from behind her counter, all apologies. She shouted orders at one of her employees to clean up the mess immediately.

  “It wasn’t your fault,” Chichi told the woman.

  “It’s the goddamn tungwa’s fault,” Sasha said, brushing a tuft of hair off his shoulder. “Damn it. Anatov told me about these. Disgusting!” Sunny wanted to burst out laughing at the nastiness and absurdity of it all and at their nonchalance. Every time she thought she had reached the threshold of weirdness . . .

  “Tungwas are just things that dwell at Leopard Knocks,” Orlu explained. “Floating bags of teeth, bone, meat, and hair. They explode when they’re ready.” He shrugged. “Don’t know what they are. Might be creatures that just don’t develop right. We deal with them like we deal with mosquitoes, flies, and cockroaches.”

  Sunny shuddered. Mama Put gave them each a free bag of chin chin. Sunny gave hers to Sasha. As they walked back, she looked at the time on her cell phone and gasped. “It’s three thirty! I’m going to be late!”

  She speed-dialed her home number and held the phone to her ear, her heart pounding. It was best to warn her mother. That way things wouldn’t be as bad when she got home. The call wouldn’t go through. She redialed. Again, it didn’t go through. There was no signal.

  “Don’t cell phones work here?” she asked Chichi.

  “I dunno. I don’t have a cell phone.”

  “My mother’s going to kill me,” she said, putting the phone back into her purse. It clinked against all the chittim.

  Crossing the bridge was much easier the second time, once Sunny managed to call up her spirit face. It took ten minutes, and Chichi had to conjure up classical music three times before Sunny felt her body go languid and her face tighten. Apparently, it was harder to bring forth one’s spirit face when one was tired.

  But once she changed, she found she didn’t need the music at all. And when she looked down at the roiling creature below, she laughed loudly and blew it a kiss. Not far behind, she heard Chichi laugh. “Move faster!” she shouted through the mist.

  Sunny didn’t want to zip about like Chichi; she wanted to dawdle and dance. Nevertheless, she moved along, thoughts of her mother’s angry face enough to keep her focused, even with her spirit face on.

  “You won’t sleep well tonight,” Chichi said. They stood outside Sunny’s house. Sasha and Orlu had already said good-bye. They had to go straight to Orlu’s so that Sasha could officially greet Mr. and Mrs. Ezulike.

  “Why?”

  “You’ve been initiated today. You’re more awake than you’ve ever been.”

  “Is it going to be—”

  “It’s different for everyone. I just wanted to warn you.”

  As Sunny
walked home, she remembered that they were to meet with Anatov in four nights. At midnight. How was she going to pull that off?

  She unlocked the door.

  “Sunny, is that you?” her mother shouted from the kitchen.

  “Yes, Mama,” she said. “Sorry I’m late.”

  She glanced at her watch. It was six o’clock. She was two hours late. As she walked in, she remembered the raffia dress she wore. Before she could think of a possible excuse, her mother came hurrying from the kitchen, her father behind her.

  “Mama, I—”

  Slap!

  “Why didn’t you call!?” her mother yelled. She had tears in her eyes.

  “I—I tried!” Sunny stammered. “The phone wouldn’t work! I tried, I swear!”

  “Where were you?” her father demanded.

  “With Orlu, Chichi, and Sasha—he’s Orlu’s family friend who just came from America,” she said quickly. She flinched as her father moved toward her. His hand was always heavier than her mother’s and far less predictable.

  “Your mother’s been worried sick,” he bellowed. “She was sure you’d been taken by that Black Hat criminal! How dare you cause her that kind of stress, stupid girl. If you ever, ever return home late again, she won’t be able to hold me back, o! I will flog you tirelessly!”

  “I’m sorry,” Sunny said quietly, her head down. She knew she wasn’t out of danger yet. “It just got late and . . .” She rubbed her stinging cheek.

  Her mother sniffled and wiped her face. She glanced at Sunny’s raffia dress, but said nothing. She pulled Sunny into a hug. Only then did Sunny know that she was safe. In that moment Sunny hated her father more than she’d ever hated him before. As if he really cares about me, she thought. “Your mother’s been worried sick,” he’d said. Obviously, he wasn’t. As far as he’s concerned, Black Hat can have me.

  Her brothers had never been slapped for coming home late. They didn’t even have a curfew, not even when they were her age. It was only her mother who yelled and scolded them. Her father would only laugh and say that “boys should be boys.” Sunny didn’t ever want to be a boy—but she didn’t want a father who hated her, either.