“Well, maybe next time I see one, I will snatch its mask off,” she’d said defiantly.
Her father had looked at her with the most serious expression she’d ever seen him make and said, “Never unmask a masquerade. You hear me? That is an abomination!”
So Sunny had learned this long before she knew a thing about Leopard society. The fact that unmasking a masquerade was forbidden was common lore among Nigerians. So after all that she’d become and all the deep African juju she’d learned while spiritually crippled, she’d defeated Ekwensu with brute physical strength and local knowledge she’d possessed since she was a little girl. She smiled, a laugh on her lips.
There was no house, no mask, and no crumbling masquerade around her. She lay on her back in a field. A field of grass. “Grass.” It was a fresh light green, and it wriggled playfully beneath her. The sky above was no longer broken open and dropping angry rain. Instead, the sun shone. She sat up, a hand pressed on the soft but firm squishy blades of “spirit grass.” And in the bright light, she could see everything clearly despite the fact that she wasn’t wearing her glasses.
When she looked down, she saw that she had hands and a body and her skin glowed a brilliant yellow. She was wearing a scratchy raffia dress that went to her knees. It was nearly identical to the one she’d found herself wearing when she was initiated. Was this some sort of second initiation? Or maybe she had died and this was the attire of the wilderness.
“Whatever,” she grunted as she stood up, her bare feet pressing down on the worm-like grass. “It is what it is.” She was relieved when the grass didn’t bite her. She looked ahead, then to her left and right. Nothing but miles and miles of wriggling grass. She sighed and the sound of it carried as if she were in a large room. She exhaled and her breath was a soft yellow. She didn’t want to speak; to speak would disturb the peace of this strange place. The back of her neck prickled, and the backs of her bare legs felt warm, as if she stood beside a space heater.
Slowly, she turned around. Then she pressed her hand to her chest and fought to stay on her feet. Now she did feel as if she was dying. She had seen masquerades before. She had just faced, climbed, and unmasked one of the most powerful ones. Now she felt this way because she understood that the being she was looking at was just projecting itself as a masquerade, because it was far more than one. She knew who it was but the very idea was impossible. It was impossible. So she let her eyes tell her what she saw. She was seeing one far more magnificent, infinitely more powerful and encompassing than Ekwensu could ever be.
The Unapproachable Supreme Creator of All Things. Chukwu!
And sitting beside it was a figure made of softly glowing yellow. Anyanwu.
The yellow aura wafting from Sunny’s skin grew brighter. She was trembling, her throat was dry, and her voice cracked when she spoke. “I greet you, Great Oga.”
Chukwu was the size of a large elephant. It looked like a haystack made of layers of blue, yellow, red, and green soft cloth and it had multicolored mist bubbling from the top of its head which was a four-sided ebony mask. And on each side was a curious-looking face. It didn’t look cruel or kind, and each face carried the same inquisitive expression as it scrutinized Sunny. Where it stood, dark green vines burst from the ground, stretched several feet, went limp, dried, and crumbled to dust. Yam vines swelled with large tubers that deflated, grew moldy, and finally melted back into the wriggling grass. Plants sprouted, bloomed with white flowers, dropped the flowers, fruited, and died. As Sunny stared up at the creature, her eyes dried and began to burn. She blinked and blinked, tears rolling down her cheeks. Terrified as she was, Sunny also felt fascination. She was drawn to the creature. No. Not creature. So much more.
“Sit,” she heard it say. The voice was neither male nor female. Had it even spoken? She took her juju knife from her pocket and placed it on her lap as she sat beside Anyanwu. Before her, it seemed to sink ever so slightly into the wriggling ground, more plants blooming, fruiting, and dying around it. It was “sitting.” She caught a whiff of its scent—soil, fruit, decay, and rain. It was a good smell.
Silence. Sunny stared at it and it stared at her. A white plate appeared between them. When the kola nut materialized on it, Sunny almost burst out laughing, and, beside her, Anyanwu actually did laugh. It wasn’t enough that Chukwu had turned its eye toward her, but now it was going to break kola with her? She stifled her urge to giggle.
“Kola has come,” Sunny and Anyanwu recited.
Chukwu’s face did not change, but Sunny felt that it was pleased. The kola nut sat on its tip and then fell into seven lobes. From within the haystack of cloth came a long, thick arm of raffia and beads. When Chukwu touched the plate, two raffia stalks wrapped around a piece of kola. Several blue and red beads spilled onto the plate. Chukwu placed the piece of kola into the mouth of the face in front of Sunny. Crunch, crunch, crunch, crunch. The crunching was so loud that Sunny thought her head would pop. She was so mesmerized by the noise that she nearly forgot her role in the ritual.
Both she and her spirit self reached forward and took a piece of kola. Chukwu took another piece and for several minutes, Sunny, Anyanwu, and the Supreme Being watched one another and crunched away on kola nut. The kola had a nice flavor.
After what felt like an hour, Chukwu’s head began to turn and each face took a look at Sunny and Anyanwu. First one face, then the next, then the next, and then the fourth. This one squinted at Sunny and then opened its eyes wide. Anyanwu slowly disappeared, and Sunny felt her settle comfortably within her, more comfortably than she’d felt since they’d been doubled. Chukwu invited me here. All I could do was push you to fight; you had to fight Ekwensu alone, Anyanwu said. And Sunny understood. One did not decline an invitation to meet with the Supreme Being. Not ever.
“When did you learn to write in Nsibidi?” Sunny asked.
“I don’t know,” Anyanwu said. “But I suspect being close to God can cause . . . revelations.”
Chukwu motioned at her with its strange arm. It seemed to be pointing at her head.
“What?” Sunny asked, touching her face. “Here?” When it kept motioning, she touched the comb on her head. She pulled it out, and the face on Chukwu smiled. “This was a gift,” Sunny said. “From Mami Wata.” She held it out and Chukwu took it. In Chukwu’s hands the comb broke, and the iridescent part of it fell to the grass as three large iridescent shells. Then the shells started moving, ghostlike snails with long, bulbous antennae pushing out and dragging the shells.
“Oh,” Sunny said, watching the snails munch their way through the grass. Chukwu reached forward. As the arm came toward her face, there were two things she could do, flee or stay still. One didn’t run from God. She held very still. When Chukwu’s arm was inches from her face, she saw that it was tipped with what looked like a sharp needle. Sunny shut her eyes and gave in to her fate. Chukwu touched her forehead and the world exploded.
When the world came back together again, Sunny was in a coconut grove. She was standing, wearing the raffia dress, her juju knife in hand. The air here was light and when she inhaled, she felt it fill her chest and then leave through her nose. She was breathing. She was back in Osisi. She touched her face and found that she was wearing her glasses. And she was glad because in this sunshine, it was hard to see clearly.
She touched her forehead. There was a slightly sore spot in the center, but otherwise she felt fine. She frowned. When she tried to remember that part of her that was from over a lifetime ago, she couldn’t grasp anything—not even the depth of her hatred and fury with Ekwensu. All she could recall was that they’d once fought in the wilderness and she’d used her juju knife.
The coconut grove was a few blocks wide and long. Like all the coconut trees she’d seen in Osisi, these ones were heavy with coconuts. Behind her was a tall skyscraper that looked as if it was made of blue marble. There was no sign on the building, nor did any of the win
dows have glass. Inside, the building looked empty, except for the occasional shadow that passed by. To her right were more trees. And to her left, past the coconut grove, was a librarylike stone building that she recognized. Oh thank goodness, she thought. The house is just on the other side. She felt blood rush down from her head and leaned against one of the slim trunks. There was a great crashing sound and a cloud of dust or smoke rose from the other side of the building.
Sunny froze as things grew quiet again. A coconut fell from one of the trees beside her. Then another from another. Then another. She looked up just in time to see another coconut fall. Her body was so sore and slow that she couldn’t react quickly enough. Just before the coconut smashed into her head, a large brown hand appeared and caught it.
Over ten feet tall, the being was humanoid with skin fibrous and rough like the husk of a coconut. Its long head’s face was a mere imprint with no definition, as if its face were covered with a layer of coconut skin. It had long arms and long legs, and its shape seemed vaguely male. Gracefully, it handed the coconut to Sunny.
“Thank you,” Sunny said, putting her juju knife in the large pocket at the front of her dress and taking the coconut in both hands. She’d been offered kola by Chukwu and now was offered a coconut by a coconut masquerade. What next? The masquerade stepped into a coconut tree’s trunk and was gone. She put her coconut down and then did the cleansing flourish with her knife. The green wilderness residue that she left when she stepped to the side was so thick that it was like standing beside a solid green shadow of herself. She stared at it as it turned to her and seemed to stare back. Then it began to dissipate in the gentle breeze. When it was gone, she picked up her coconut and walked past the trees onto the street toward Ekwensu’s land.
As she walked, others joined her, heading toward the noise. There were people who looked as if they’d come from her town, some who were dressed more fashionably like they were from Lagos, some who didn’t seem quite human, and some who looked as if they were in the wilderness. Sunny was part of a crowd by the time she arrived at the house . . . or at least where the house used to be. It had crumbled into dust, leaving nothing but a tall lonely palm tree. The dust glowed like embers in a fire and was slowly disappearing back into the wilderness.
“Orlu!” Sunny shouted, pushing past the various people in the crowd. She decided to glide through them, feeling her body cool and separate in that strange way she was still getting used to. She flew through misty blobs and felt them question where she was going. They’re my friends, she thought to them as she passed.
When she reappeared in front of Orlu, a silver chittim dropped and she caught it in her hand absentmindedly as she stared into Orlu’s wet eyes. He was covered in the strange dust, and it glowed orange yellow on his skin like jewels. He twitched as his eyes met Sunny’s, then his eyes grew wide. “Sunny?” he whispered.
Sunny grinned.
Orlu removed her glasses, placed both hands on her cheeks, and pulled her face to his. His lips were warm and the glowing dust on them made Sunny’s lips tingle. Then he pulled her into a tight hug. “You were dead. We were sure you were dead,” he said into her ear.
Over his shoulder, Sunny saw Grashcoatah standing to the far side of where the house had been. Sasha and Chichi were using their juju knives to cut long, long hairs that hung from his back and sides. At Grashcoatah’s feet was a big pile of bronze chittim. He was nudging some of them with an inquisitive foot. Sunny frowned and let go of Orlu.
“I . . . No, I didn’t die. But . . .” What was she going to say? That she’d broken kola with Chukwu the Supreme Being? What would that sound like? Would Orlu even believe her? She touched her forehead and for a moment, the world brightened and deepened. She took her hand quickly away from the spot. “I pulled off Ekwensu’s mask.”
Orlu held her away from him, put her glasses back on her face, and really looked at her. He touched her arm, rubbing a finger over the red marks from Ekwensu’s stings. He brought up his hand and was about to touch the center of her forehead. She caught his hand. “What happened? Did something hit you there?” he asked.
Sunny shook her head.
“Then what is . . .”
“Sunny!” Chichi screamed, running over. Orlu stepped back, his eyes still on Sunny’s forehead. When Chichi got closer, Sunny noticed that there was blood on her shirt and that her arms were covered with raised welts. Then Chichi was hugging her. She smelled of sweat and something sour.
“That Aku masquerade wanted to settle a score,” Chichi said. “It thought that it had a better chance of getting me when Ekwensu attacked you. But it hadn’t counted on dealing with Sasha, the world’s best bug killer.” She laughed and slapped hands with Sasha. Sasha flashed a look at Sunny, his smile faltering the slightest bit. She glanced at Orlu and he looked away.
“Are you all right?” Sunny asked Chichi. “Where . . . The blood, where’d it come from?”
Chichi pressed her lips together in a smile and then shook her head. “I’m fine. Alive.”
The various people who’d gathered began rummaging through what was left of Ekwensu’s home. Some were actively eating the disappearing sparkling dust, others were scooping it into their pockets, bags, and even shirts. They cautiously kept a distance from Sunny and her friends, though some boys were standing around Grashcoatah. They were helping him gather the chittim he didn’t seem to want and offering him handfuls of grass. Grashcoatah happily accepted the grass.
Orlu related the story of what had happened as they watched the people of Osisi collect the dust. The Aku masquerade had tried to pull Chichi into the wilderness so that Chichi could die while it watched. The masquerade saw Chichi’s conjuring it at the Zuma Festival as an attempt to enslave it, and it hadn’t forgotten the insult of such an attempt. It had probably been tracking Chichi from the moment they entered Osisi. Waiting for the right time to strike.
Only Sasha’s quick desperate thinking saved Chichi as the masquerade swallowed her and prepared to cross over with her. Sasha had enhanced the common mosquito-repelling juju, wrapped himself with it, and dove into the swarm. Insects burst around him as he swam deep, deep, deep into the swarm of stinging biting ants, termites, bees, and wasps that were the physical body of the masquerade until he found Chichi. Horrified and defeated, the masquerade vomited them out and fled, but not before inflicting a painful wound on Chichi’s chest. Chichi only felt it after Sasha had dragged her away.
“Turn around,” Chichi said to Orlu and Sasha.
“Why should I?” Sasha said, looking annoyed. “I saved your life. And it’s not like it’s anything I haven’t seen already . . .” He grinned. “More than once.”
“Stop it,” Chichi said, growing serious. “Just turn around.”
Sasha and Orlu both turned away. Chichi stepped closer to Sunny as she looked around to make sure people were still more occupied with collecting the strange dust than watching her. Then she undid a few buttons on her shirt and opened the top. Sunny leaned forward to look. She gasped and stepped back.
“Sasha used some of the ants from the Mmuo Aku to close it up,” Chichi said.
“Is that what those stitches are?” Sunny asked, through her hands covering her mouth. Her eyes watered.
“Yeah, they have big and strong biting pincers,” she said. “You get them to bite down, then clip the body off with your nail.”
“That’s nasty,” Sunny said, disgusted.
Chichi only shrugged. “Better than dying. I remembered Orlu talking a few years ago about ants used for sutures.”
Chichi’s swift photographic memory had saved her yet again. As she lay there with the large wound on her chest bleeding and bleeding, she’d remembered what Orlu had told her. Then she told Sasha to find the ants. He’d turned around and found a large group of them at his feet, almost waiting for him. “They were waiting,” Chichi said. “I made them come and wait as soon as
I could see them clearly in my head.” Sasha and Chichi’s natural gifts were always unclear to Sunny. But every so often, like now, she was in awe of their power.
When Sasha had rescued Chichi, swimming up through an avalanche of exploding insects, the opening to the wilderness just behind him, one of the Aku masquerade’s insects had struck. Chichi said that she felt it crawl into her shirt and that it was large. But she was so focused on getting out that she couldn’t do anything about it. It was big and it tried to cut out her heart. If Chichi hadn’t fallen on her chest just as they emerged and crushed it, she would have been dead. It turned out to be a giant brown sticklike insect with razor-sharp front legs. It had cut a gash beside Chichi’s heart that was two inches long. It wasn’t too deep, so it didn’t get to her sternum; the nasty bug was just getting started.
“And there was more,” Orlu said. Ekwensu had planned to deal with Sunny without any interference. Thus, when Orlu and Grashcoatah tried to get into the house, several of Ekwensu’s minions had attacked. They were shadowy and brilliantly colored spirits that could somehow affect the physical world, and they started with knocking Orlu off Grashcoatah’s back. Then they tried to push Grashcoatah to the ground as well. Orlu had hit the ground hard and lost consciousness for at least thirty seconds. When he came to, there was insanity happening right above him.
“Grashcoatah was like Spider-Man,” Orlu said. “He was hovering over me to protect me, and there were spiderwebs shooting from his fur! They’d wrap and wind around the spirits, and the spirits would fall wriggling to the ground and then dissolve, I guess, back into the wilderness.” He shook his head. “Sunny, you might have been able to see where they went because you can see both places. Grashcoatah was amazing.”
When the fight was over, Grashcoatah had many ropes of webbing hanging from his fur, but there was no time to pull or cut it off. There was a great flash from within Ekwensu’s house, and everything went dead silent. “I’ll bet people all over Osisi felt it!” Chichi said. Then Ekwensu’s house began to crumble. With Sunny seemingly inside it, it crumbled to dust. To nothing. Nothing but a palm tree.
Akata Warrior Page 32
