The Zuma Rock Festival came a month later. All of them went, except Orlu. He and Grashcoatah had gone instead with Taiwo and Nancy the Miri Bird to witness the mass spawning of some sort of butterfly in the Cross River Forest. Sunny missed him, but Orlu’s excitement about going delighted her more than his absence depressed her.
Despite all that she’d been through, she was still able to experience the festival with fresh eyes. The three of them went to the art fair, and Sunny bought a new wrapper and matching top. Chichi bought a bookmark made of shed Eji Onu masquerade raffia. When placed between the pages of a book while reading the book, it made the images one imagined that much more alive. Sasha didn’t buy anything because he was saving all his money for the book fair near the end of the festival.
A jewellery maker was awed by the hair comb Della had made for Sunny. He offered to pay her an insane amount of chittim AND naira for it. He said that it was made of zyzzyx glass, a serum that wasp artists secrete when they reach their first artistic peak. Few wasp artists willingly gave away their zyzzyx glass artwork; it was too beautiful to merely be worn as a “bauble by some young girl.” Insulted and intrigued, needless to say, Sunny refused to sell her zyzzyx glass hair comb.
They moved on to the book fair. It was enormous. They hadn’t been to this last year, and Sunny was kind of glad. The festival had been so overwhelming back then that she’d nearly gone catatonic. If she’d been to the book fair, she would have screamed to go home and never had her amazing experience of playing soccer in the Zuma Cup.
The book fair consisted of row after row of books packed on the field that would later be used for the Zuma Cup soccer match. Here, people argued and sometimes fought over books, and some of the books argued with and fought people. Sasha got into a disturbing altercation with a dark-skinned man wearing a Tuareg-style indigo face veil. All Sasha had done to spark it was reach for a thick, brand-new-looking book with The Great Book burned into the spine in Arabic. To Sunny’s shock, the man had slapped Sasha’s hands and then slapped him hard across the face as he shouted something in Arabic.
Sasha had shouted right back at the man in Arabic. The man simply ignored him, turning his attention to the book as he grabbed and opened it. Sasha was too angry to notice and Chichi was too busy trying to pull him away. However, Sunny saw the inside of this book. It wasn’t really a book at all. Its inside looked more like the touch screen of a tablet.
Then she was helping Chichi shove Sasha away from the man. After looking at other books, Sasha settled on a book that was the size of his hand. It was sticky with old honey and had print so small that even a child with 20/20 vision would need a magnifying glass to read it. It also had several pages torn out of it. “But it’s a book of practical joke jujus written by an Abatwa!” Sasha said. He purchased it for a whole bronze chittim, managing to haggle a discount due to the missing pages. He refused to talk about The Great Book.
They skipped the wrestling match and from what they heard it was again a bloody match, though neither of the champions was killed like last year. Nevertheless, Sunny found herself watching the sky and the constant milling festival crowd around her, looking for the fallen champion turned guardian angel Miknikstic. She even snuck to the spot where she’d first met him last year in front of the soccer field. Sasha and Chichi were at the table where they’d all just eaten lunch. They were debating the recent election of the governor of some state, and their discussion was so heated that they hadn’t even noticed her slip away.
Now she stood in the very spot looking at the field. It was here where Sunny had felt so out of place, so overwhelmed by everything. Not this time. The festival now felt almost underwhelming, even with the intriguing and fascinating parts like the book and art fairs, even the wrestling match.
She turned around and looked at the Leopard People going about their business. They laughed, talked, explored, did their juju. They were so comfortable. Like her parents and all the Lambs she knew. When did she wind up on the outside again? She’d met Miknikstic here, as well, a man who less than an hour later would transform into so much more. She crossed her arms over her chest, squeezing the muscles of her strong ropy biceps with her hands. With her right foot she sketched a series of loops and swirls into the dirt—the Nsibidi symbol for “I am here.” She paused for a moment, looking for any sign of movement in the symbols. As if she were good enough at it yet. She chuckled and returned to her friends.
An hour later, she stood centre on the field holding the soccer ball. The field had been cleared of the stacks and cases and shelves of books. Now there was nothing but uneven grass and the white lines of the field, bold and perfect. She felt good in her white uniform, and this time she wore brand-new soccer cleats that she’d bought with some of her chittim in Leopard Knocks, months ago. Sasha was behind her to her left.
She looked at Godwin, the green team’s leader. He was playing goalie. He gave a nod of confidence.
“I’m going to wipe the field with you, ghost girl,” Ibou said. Sunny grinned at him, setting the ball down. “No,” she said. “You’re not.” Ibou had grown about three inches and his shoulders were even broader. But Sunny had grown taller and become more muscular, too. The ref blew his whistle, and Sunny took the ball with her dancing feet. She felt Anyanwu revelling in the art of motion and grace. She kicked the ball to Ibou’s left as he came at her. She did a turn, moved behind him, and caught the ball with her feet. She laughed, spotting her teammate Agaja to her right. He was open. As she passed the ball to him, she could already see Agaja blasting it into the goal.