17
INVOCATION
Mama Put’s Putting Place was busy when Sunny stepped into it. Mama Put had expanded the dining area, and ever since, the place was packed at every time of the day except early morning. Sunny looked around. There they were—Sasha was just tucking into a large bowl of rice with stewed chicken and Chichi was rolling a ball of egba to scoop up her okra soup. Sunny’s stomach grumbled, but this wasn’t the time.
“Where’s Orlu?”
Sasha grinned and Chichi rolled her eyes.
“What?” Sunny asked.
“He had to go,” Sasha said. “It was pretty awesome. Grashcoatah and Taiwo’s Miri Bird came for him. I think they were both sent and they found him at the same time. Everyone came rushing to see Grashcoatah. Some of the kids were hugging and petting him. Probably felt like hugging a furry wall. Some girl even had a brush! Why?! They climbed on his huge back, massaged his cheeks. Of course, he loved it all. People were throwing him their groceries, which he ate like candy. Someone even threw him a whole bundle of sweet grass.”
“It was ridiculous,” Chichi added.
“You’re just jealous,” Sasha said, putting an arm around her and pulling her close. “I’ll give you some attention if you need it.”
“Give me, then,” Chichi said, smirking.
Sunny rolled her eyes. “What about . . .” She lowered her voice. “Getting the thing for Udide?”
“You still have to read the piece of wood, right?” Chichi said.
Sunny frowned. “Yeah . . . yeah, I do, but—”
“He’ll be back by the time you do,” Sasha said.
“Where’d he have to go, though?”
“I dunno,” Sasha said. “Taiwo just wanted to see him.”
Sugar Cream had called on her a few times for various things. Once she’d called on Sunny right after school by sending a bird messenger. When Sunny had arrived at her office, Sugar Cream introduced Sunny to her best friend for over forty years, an old man from the Caribbean island of St. Vincent who had the ability to see hundreds of colors humans normally couldn’t see. But Sugar Cream’s calls were never so urgent. “I hope he’s okay.”
“With those two looking after him, I’m sure he’s fine,” Chichi said, touching her arm. “Did Sugar Cream have any answers?”
“She said it’s an invocation,” Sunny said.
Chichi leaned forward. “The Nsibidi itself?” she asked.
“You read it and it summons,” Sasha said, pinching his chin. He looked at Sunny with wide excited eyes. “What does it summon? Oh man, did she summon whatever it was?!”
“No, no, she stopped reading before it could.”
“So what does it call?” Chichi asked.
Sunny looked around. The place was pretty full today, a group of teens sitting behind them and a table of what looked like scholars to their right. She caught the eye of a tall man wearing a red and white Igbo cap leaning against the order pickup counter. She quickly looked away. “Let’s talk about it later.”
Sasha got up. “I’ll get containers for our food.” He rushed off.
“We need Orlu here for this,” Sunny said.
“Tonight,” Chichi said. “And if not, we’ll go and find him.”
Sunny groaned when they found that Chichi’s mother wasn’t home. Sunny had hoped she could answer some questions.
“Don’t know where she is,” Chichi said, rubbing her healing face. “Damn, maybe she’s back at Leopard Knocks.”
“Whatever, tell us what’s up,” Sasha said, throwing his backpack on the floor and sitting among a pile of books. Chichi sat down, too.
“Okay, so it’s an invocation,” Sunny said. “For The Road.”
Both of them just stared at her.
When they continued staring, she grew irritated. “What? Why are you looking at me like that?”
Both of them stared for a few more seconds and then Sasha finally said, “What’s ‘The Road’?”
Sunny blinked. And then she grinned. She jumped up. “Ha!” She stretched out her arms dramatically. “Hoooold up! This is not a drill! Hahaha! It’s happening!” She danced around the hut, laughing. Now it was their turn to look annoyed and this made Sunny laugh even more.
Chichi kissed her teeth. “Neither of us ever said we knew everything.”
“Yeah, but I’ve never seen it happen!” Sunny said, sitting back down. She chuckled. She wished Anyanwu were with her to laugh with. “The Road . . . I don’t know what it is, either. But Sugar Cream said it’s where the ghazal probably is. It’s a road of spirits or something. The way she spoke. It was like you had to glide to be there or something.”
“Then how can . . . Does she think you have to go looking for it alone?” Chichi asked.
“Nah, man, no way, not happening,” Sasha said.
“The way she made it sound, it would sweep me away.” Sunny shivered.
“Don’t worry, Sunny. We’re not going to let you do that,” Chichi said. “Not alone.”
Sasha was looking at a pile of books. “Meantime, we need to find some info about this Road.”
“She called it some other names, but I can’t remember them.”
“We’ll find something if there’s something to find.” Sasha picked up a book and smirked. “I say we go to the Obi Library and ask them to get us into the fourth floor. We have the perfect reason!”
“Oh, heck yes!” Chichi said, slapping hands with Sasha. “Us on the fourth floor of the Obi Library?! That’s one step away from third level!”
“Udide said seven days, and that was days ago,” Sunny said. “Don’t you have to go through all these channels if you’re not an Obi Library student there? There’s no time!”
“Your mentor is Sugar Cream, you can get anything,” Chichi said. “Just ask.”
Sunny shook her head. “You don’t know her.”
“Ugh,” Chichi groaned, rolling her eyes.
“Fine . . . so you read it,” Sasha said. “And when you do, we’d better be ready for whatever comes next.”
“Don’t look at that thing again for now,” Chichi warned.
“But how do I learn to read it? It takes a while to interpret, to read Nsibidi. It’s not like picking up a book and you read. You have to . . . I dunno. And it’s really heavy Nsibidi.”
“Hmm,” Sasha said. “We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it.”
They agreed that they’d each go home, rest, shower, eat, and then meet back at Orlu’s house at midnight because by then he’d surely be home. Then . . . then they’d see what the invocation invoked.
When Sunny got home, she saw her father’s brother Uncle Chibuzo’s black Mercedes in the driveway. “Great,” she muttered, quietly pushing the door open. “Hopefully he’s been here awhile; I’m not breaking any damn kola today.” She could already hear them laughing inside. They were in the living room, and she was able to slip by in the hallway without being noticed. But something gave her pause. She backed up and peeked in.
Her father and uncle sat on the couch, a bottle of Star Beer in hand, a bowl of shelled groundnuts and a pile of shells on the coffee table in front of them, and a soccer game on the TV. Yeah, her uncle had been here a while. She was about to move on when her father, in mid-laugh, glanced her way and caught her eye. Sunny caught her breath. She and her father hadn’t spoken since the slap two days ago. The smile faltered on her father’s face. Then he quickly looked away. He kept chuckling, but it now sounded fake.
“So who made you believe that counterattacking is bad? Look at the evidence that you are wrong!” her uncle said.
“Ah, you’re talking rubbish,” her father replied.
Sunny quickly moved on down the hall, blinking back the sting of tears. In the kitchen, she found her mother sitting at the dinner table. She was talking on the phone with her sister in Chicago. Her mother reached out and took Sunny’s hand.
“Hi, Mom,” Sunny whispered, not wanting to interrupt her conversation. Her mother nodded a hello and continued listening to whatever story her sister was telling her. Sunny took three oranges from the sack on the counter and a bag of chin chin. She went on her way. Her brother’s door was open and she could hear that he also had company, his new girlfriend, Amarachi. His computer screen was streaming a movie, and as Sunny passed by, she could see them both sitting on the floor in front of it, looking at their phones.
“No football. I like this movie,” Amarachi said.
“Why don’t most girls like sports?”
She kissed her teeth. “I like watching tennis as much as you like watching football. Do you know who Naomi Osaka is?”
Sunny laughed. Good comeback, she thought. Once in her room, she shut her door. She threw aside the Leopard newspaper on her bed that she rarely read these days and plopped down. She ate one of the oranges and then decided to take a short nap. When she awoke, it was nearly dark outside and her door was open. She looked at her phone—she’d slept five hours! “Oh, no!” She jumped up and rushed to take a long, hot shower.
“Della,” she said when she was dressed. She heard the buzz of wings, but the wasp didn’t emerge from its nest. Sunny felt badly about waking it up. “Sorry, but I need to tell you something. Come out. Please?” After a moment, Della peeked its metallic blue head from the hole in the bottom of the mud nest. It buzzed its wings.
“I’m . . . going to Orlu’s house tonight. I don’t . . .” She sighed, the weight of everything starting to push down on her. What was going to happen if . . . when she read the Nsibidi? “I don’t know what will happen. If . . . I might have to go somewhere soon. Be gone for a while. Just understand.”
Della zipped out of its nest and landed on her head. More specifically on the zyzzyx comb she always wore in her Afro. She turned to her mirror and nodded. “Of course I’m bringing it with me. I always wear it.”
Della zipped back into its nest and was quiet.
“Okay,” Sunny said. “Good. At least I’ve taken care of that.”
She quickly packed the two remaining oranges and bag of chin chin, a packet of tissues, an extra juju powder pouch, her mobile phone and charger, lip gloss, some silver and two bronze chittim, and a few other small items in her backpack. Essentials, but not too heavy. She put on some jeans, the Joan Jett T-shirt which she’d come to really like, fresh socks, and gym shoes. She stood there for a moment, looking over her room.
She glanced out the window. Even in the dark she could see the dead palm tree with its dry trunk and brown leaves. In the evening breeze, she could even hear the leaves scrape against and tap each other like the bones of a skeleton. She tapped the juju powder pouch in her back pocket and her juju knife inside her jeans against her hip. Last but not least, she touched the piece of wood with the Nsibidi on it in her front pocket. She held on to her backpack tightly and turned to the closed door. Then she glided through the keyhole.
When she arrived at Orlu’s house, Chichi and Sasha were already sitting outside on the front doorstep waiting for her. “He’s not back yet,” Chichi said.
“Why?”
Sasha shrugged.
“His parents don’t know?”
“I think they know something,” Sasha said.
“I say we go to Taiwo’s hut and—”
“He’s coming,” Sunny said, pointing at the sky. Sasha and Chichi got up. As Grashcoatah landed, Sunny knew something was wrong with Orlu. It wasn’t as much what she saw, for she couldn’t see him on Grashcoatah’s broad back from where she stood. It was what she felt. Where it had been hot and humid, there was suddenly a cool breeze. The dust in the driveway swirled around them and she turned away, protecting her eyes.
“Shit! Orlu!” Sasha shouted, rushing to Grashcoatah regardless of the dust. He coughed as he grabbed Grashcoatah’s fur and climbed up. Slowly, Sunny walked up to the flying grasscutter as Chichi followed Sasha up. She touched Grashcoatah’s soft, silky fur and looked up his side, listening.
“Oh, damn,” Sasha said. “Why didn’t you—”
She heard Chichi gasp. “Oh! Uh . . .”
“Come on. How old are you?” Sasha snapped.
“I just—”
“Where’s Sunny?” Orlu said. His voice sounded so hoarse.
“I’m down here,” she called up. She was about to start climbing onto Grashcoatah when everything seemed to vibrate. Thoom! She let go, stumbling back and looking around. Thoom! “What’s happening?” she shouted, holding her head. All her mind kept telling her was one name, Ekwensu. Had Orlu called the terrible masquerade back? What did that mean? “WHAT IS HAPPENING?!”
Sasha jumped down from Grashcoatah. He grabbed Sunny and hugged her. “It’s not Ekwensu, relax. It’s okay.”
She was shuddering so hard that she could barely think. “It’s not?” she whispered. She hugged Sasha, tears streaming from her eyes. What was happening to her? “Then what’s wrong with Orlu?”
Chichi was climbing down now. “He’s coming down,” she said. “Just . . . prepare yourself.”
Sunny frowned, grasping Sasha. “Prepare . . . ? For what?”
Then over Sasha’s shoulder, she saw Orlu. Thoom! Everything vibrated again as he jumped down and landed like something so solid and stable that it weighed a thousand pounds. He stood tall, and when he spoke, his voice was the voice of an ancient spirit. “I passed Mbawkwa!” he proclaimed. “And I don’t know what the actual fuck is happening.”
Sunny’s mouth fell open as she let go of Sasha, then she started laughing. Never in all the time she knew Orlu had she ever heard him drop the f-bomb, and of all times, this was the time to do it. Sunny had only seen his spirit face once, very briefly during a car ride into Leopard Knocks. And he hadn’t known she’d seen him. This now? Oh, this was something else entirely. She stared at him. They all did. One’s spirit face was more private than one’s naked body, but how could they not look at their friend?
His face was like a window-sized rectangle of bright green wood carved with thousands of tiny, wiggling Nsibidi symbols. Sunny wanted to step closer and read them, but just looking at him was impolite. Sitting there and reading him would have been downright rude.
“Taiwo said I’ll be okay in a few hours, but this . . . is . . . bizarre,” he said.
“It’s different for everyone,” Chichi said.
Grashcoatah sniffed at Orlu and Orlu turned to him. “Cut it out, you know it’s me.” But Grashcoatah continued sniffing at him. “My name is Oku,” he proclaimed. Grashcoatah grunted, satisfied, gently licking him and then stepping back and resting on his haunches.
“Let’s go inside,” Sunny said, looking at her feet as she took Orlu’s hand.
Thoom! It made her jump, but she held steady, thinking to herself, It’s not Ekwensu, it’s not Ekwensu.
“Grashcoatah,” Orlu weakly said, leaning his huge head on his great hide. “Thank you.” Grashcoatah grunted. Orlu took something from the pocket of his jeans. “Can you fly this back to Taiwo? Doesn’t seem right to keep it past sunrise.”
Grashcoatah took whatever it was into his mouth. Then he flew into the air and was gone, leaving them in another swirl of dust.
“What was that you gave him?” Sunny asked.
“A night guard,” he said. “When you come out of Mbawkwa, you’re more vulnerable than normal to the creatures in Night Runner Forest. Some of them will be attracted to you. Now that I am out of the forest, though, they’ll go back to where I came through looking for remnants.”
“Damn, I hope Taiwo’s not battling bush souls or armies of other íhẹ́ ndi dị́ ńdụ̀ right now,” Sasha said.
“It’s Taiwo,” Orlu said. “He can handle it. But still, that’s why I sent it back, sha.”
Inside, Orlu’s parents hugged and congratulated him after a very awkward moment when they looked at Sunny, Sasha, and Chichi.
Orlu’s mother rushed to the kitchen to warm up the meal she’d made for Orlu. “Do you mind if I call Sasha’s parents?” she asked from the kitchen. “They’ve been calling all day to see if he is all right.”
Orlu had grunted an okay. “Just don’t tell them about . . . this.” He motioned to his exposed spirit face.
“Okuuuuu!” his father sang. “My great son is powerful, o.”
This made Orlu look up, and his spirit face didn’t smile, but it got brighter, and Sunny was sure she even saw sparkles.
The four of them sat in the kitchen, while Orlu ate like he’d never eaten before. Granted, the meal of spicy egusi soup, heavy with roasted goat meat and chicken, a large portion of egba on the side, probably was delicious, but Orlu ate the equivalent of what three grown men would eat. Sunny watched him eat, in awe of what a spirit face shoveling food into its wooden face looked like.
When he finished, they went outside. The house’s generator vibrated nearby, but that was the only other noise out here. They sat on the steps in front of the door. Sasha brought out a pack of Bangas. He shook one out and began smoking it. He passed it to Chichi. Sunny brought out her juju knife and worked a juju she’d grown used to doing. The smoke from the cigarettes swirled straight up, the air around Sunny remaining fresh.
She glanced at Orlu and quickly looked away. This was too weird.
“So . . . who’d you speak to?” Sasha asked.
“Give me some time on that,” he said.
Sasha nodded.
“But you feel better?” Sunny asked. As if her question caused it, everything shook with a deep thoom! “How come that didn’t happen as much when we were inside with your parents?”
Orlu shrugged. “Taiwo gave me wilderness grass and it didn’t work at all, either.”
“It’s different with everyone,” Chichi repeated. “I keep saying it because it’s true.”
Orlu nodded. “The Nsibidi, did you ask Sugar Cream?”
“Yeah,” Sunny said. While Sasha and Chichi smoked another Banga each, Sunny told him everything. By the time she finished, she’d started to feel a bit tired. She yawned.
“Well?”
“Well, what?” she asked.
Thoom!
“Have fun getting sleep with that goddamn noise shaking you every few minutes,” Chichi muttered.
Sasha laughed. “I’m more worried how he’s going to sleep with a head the size of Texas.”
Chichi snorted with laughter and soon both of them were snickering. Sunny covered her mouth with her hand.
“Read it,” Orlu said, still serious. “Let’s see what happens. You have it with you, right?”
“Yeah,” she whispered. “But . . . I’m kind of tired. Tomorrow might be better. What if I can’t—”
“Orlu, we don’t know what will happen,” Sasha said. “We can wait for—”
“No time.” He turned to Sunny. “Read it. You know you can.”
“Wait!” Chichi said. She ran inside. A second later, Sasha said, “Good idea, Chichi.” Then he ran in, too. Sunny wanted to look at Orlu again, but she didn’t. There was another thoom! They both giggled nervously. After a minute, Chichi emerged carrying a purse and Sunny’s backpack and Sasha came out with his and Orlu’s.
Sunny frowned. “You really think—”
“Yup,” Sasha said.
“Always good to be prepared,” Chichi added.
Sunny sighed. “Okay.” She was ready. She’d already snuck out. This was what she was here for. So I’m here for it, she thought. “Okay,” she said again. She brought the wood from her pocket and held it in her hands.
The world vibrated again and Orlu groaned. “Oh, make it stop,” he said.
Chichi patted his shoulder and Sasha nodded at Sunny. “You can do it.”
She looked at the Nsibidi and it did nothing. Relax, she thought, but it was difficult. There was no time to fail. But what if I can’t do it? She tried to read it again. Still nothing. She blinked her drying eyes and took a deep breath. When she looked up, the three of them were leaning toward her. Waiting.
“It’s not working,” she whispered. “I can’t . . .” One of the loops on the edge of a symbol started coiling tighter. Just a tiny bit. She focused on it, and as she did, she remembered. She could read Nsibidi and she could read it well. Sugar Cream had taught her, and she had spent hours and hours working at it. And then more hours reading, being, playing it. The dot behind the coil began to spin. A line stretched. A symbol that was a tree cartwheeled to the side.
She sighed as it all came to life, flipping, tumbling, twirling, squeezing, stretching about like tiny spirits. If she asked Sasha, Chichi, or even Orlu if they saw this happening, they’d say no. Only Nsibidi readers could see this phenomenon . . . and read it. So she read it aloud, but the words that came from her mouth didn’t sound like her own. “When the day ends and the night falls, two steps forward. Nine steps back. Then slip to the side. No turning back. Two steps forward. Nine steps back. Then slip to the side. You will know. Do this correctly and you will venture out and return with more plantains.”
She stopped talking and looked up the driveway. Another of Orlu’s vibrations shook everything, and that seemed to heighten what she saw. Anyanwu stood there, bright and ethereal as ever.
“I . . . I see her,” she heard Orlu say, but Sunny was barely listening. She was hearing something else. The music of a haunted flute. And then she was standing up. She reached into her pocket and brought out her juju knife. She tried to stop her hand, but to do so would be wrong, so she allowed it. Her eyes returned to the piece of wood she held. She looked. The Nsibidi, still quivering the slightest bit, froze in place and even seemed to burn deeper into the wood for emphasis.
Right into the driveway, Sunny drew the Nsibidi, her juju knife sparking as it scraped. She heard Chichi say, “I’ve heard of this. The invocation is doing it. Don’t touch her until she’s done.”
And indeed, Sunny couldn’t stop if she wanted to, but she didn’t want to stop. This was it. So she pushed on by looking at the Nsibidi as her hand drew it. When she was nearly finished, it began to glow an electric blue, the flute growing louder, Orlu’s vibrations oddly growing right along with it. Sunny stepped back from what she’d done.
“I don’t feel tired,” she said. Why this worried her, she didn’t know. But boy, did it worry her. And so did the fact that the trees around them were shaking. The palm trees actually looked like they were beating themselves at their crowns as they swayed. The bushes seemed to be trying to spin. There was no breeze. When the Nsibidi began to rotate counterclockwise, Sunny understood what was happening.
“It’s going to take us!” she shouted.
Not for the first time, she was glad that Sasha and Chichi were so intuitively quick minded. There was no time to explain.
“You can’t go!” Chichi said.
“Not alone!” Sasha added.
But they hadn’t completely understood. This powerful juju Abeng had given her was not only going to take her . . . it was going to take all four of them. That had been what she wanted, before she understood that to get to The Road, one had to travel into the wilderness. To be in the wilderness was to die. She could die and live because this was her natural ability. But her friends were simply going to die.
The Nsibidi she’d drawn was slowing down. Already, she could see that the trees were no longer trees, they were more than trees, trees with leaves that swayed when there was no breeze, trees that had never been alive. She looked up and met the face of herself, Anyanwu. A glory of wooden sun, her wooden rays stretching out as she shined. Sunny looked into her hollow, round eyes.
“Oh man, please let this work,” Sunny said. “PLEASE.” Then with all her focus, she shut her eyes and . . . she held. She waited. She could feel it, other, elsewhere, she was in the wilderness. But she didn’t open her eyes.
Anyanwu? she said.
I am here.
Don’t leave me here.
No. I will stay close. Though you will not die if I leave.
You’re still angry.
We will not discuss that here.
Sunny focused on her surroundings. She could still hear the trees slapping their leaves about, but she felt no breeze. Nor did she hear the car engine sound of the house generator anymore. All her friends had gone quiet. Slowly, she opened her eyes. And she understood why Sasha, Chichi, and Orlu were so quiet. Thankfully, it wasn’t because they were dead. Sasha’s spirit face was the wooden head of a fierce-looking, stunningly red parrot with a powerful yellow beak, and it was about twice the size of Orlu’s spirit face.
Finally, Sasha spoke. “Why . . . why does my head feel so big here?” he asked Chichi. His voice sounded like two voices, one female and one male.
Chichi was still staring at him, oblivious to the fact that her spirit face had come forth, too. Rectangular and a marble-like periwinkle substance with white lines painted down each eye and a large, black, grinning mouth. Her two eyes were square indentations colored in with what looked like blue paint, and they blinked at Sasha.
Orlu’s spirit face was still showing, too, but his vibrations seemed to have stopped. Or maybe such things didn’t need to happen in the wilderness. He was staring at Sunny and Sunny felt an embarrassment so deep, she didn’t know she was capable of it. He looked down at the wriggling grass at their feet and asked, “Are we all—”
“Yeah,” Sunny said. “We’re in the wilderness . . . I knew you’d all be brought here and die, so I—” She froze, looking into the field. A yellow line of Nsibidi symbols stretched through the field. Three things at once: a ghost, a spirit, a path. “Oh,” she whispered.
“Aw hell naw, you stopped time! You HELD?!” Sasha exclaimed. He looked and sounded weird with his parrot head and two voices . . . but in a way, he didn’t.
She tore her eyes from Sasha and looked around. She stepped to the tree that looked the most like the tree at Orlu’s house. Digging the soil away felt weird. Though a rich red, it felt dry and airy. Just as Sugar Cream had instructed her to do with her special holding object, she dropped her zyzzyx comb into the hole and pushed the dirt over it.
“Okay,” Sunny said, looking at the path. “Can any of you see that?”
“See what?” Chichi asked.
“The yellow line thing made of . . . Nsibidi. It’s floating just above the grass.” She took a step toward it and it seemed to move a few yards away.
They all shook their heads.
“Interesting. Well, I see it, and I think we follow it. I can’t even see where it ends.” When none of them said anything, clearly preoccupied with their spirit faces, Sunny shrugged. “Okay, so this is happening. We . . . I don’t know how long I can hold this, and then after we return to the world, we’ll still have about a day, so let’s just take a moment and, uh, get used to this or whatever.”
They all slowly approached each other.
“I’m okay . . . with it,” Sunny said. “St-st-stare all you want right now . . . and then, that’s it.”
She did the same, taking in all their spirit faces. Every single detail, unflinchingly. She started to read the Nsibidi on Orlu’s face, but then stopped herself. She’d only do that with his permission.
“Pointy,” Chichi said.
“Oh, stop,” Sunny said.
“At least she looks like what she is,” Sasha said. “I don’t even like parrots. A giant macaw once bit the hell out of me when I was little.”
“Doesn’t your mother have an African gray as a pet?” Chichi asked.
Sasha scoffed and rolled his eyes.
“What’s your name, Sasha?” Sunny asked.
“Njem,” Chichi said.
“And Chichi’s name is Igri,” Sasha said.
Sunny glanced at Orlu and bit her lip. She rarely asked him anything about his spirit face.
“I’m Oku,” Orlu said to her.
“I know,” Sunny said, smiling. The name meant “light” in Igbo. And anyanwu meant “eye of the sun.” She gazed at him a few moments longer. She giggled to herself and turned to the others. “Okay. Can we move on now?” She held a hand up, a thought popping into her mind. “Wait, one more thing . . . and when I show you, none of you are allowed to talk about it. Don’t even mention it.”
They waited.
But she made no move.
Chichi grew impatient. “Fine. We all agree, right?”
Sasha and Orlu agreed.
“Okay,” Sunny said. She stepped to the side, leaving Anyanwu standing there. She touched her face; it was the one she was born knowing. She looked at the three of them as she stood beside Anyanwu and felt instantly annoyed. She’d always known it, but this was still solid evidence: none of them really truly understood what it was to be doubled. And they were still disturbed by the very concept despite the four of them being so close. All this she could tell by the looks on their spirit faces and their silence. Even Orlu’s.
But she knew to wait. It wasn’t easy for them. She understood. She was a free agent, which meant this life, this state of being wasn’t something she’d lived with all her life. It had only been her last three years. So it wasn’t as ingrained into her as it was for them. They’d been born knowing the closeness of their spirit faces, and to be doubled was like being a Lamb born with a brain that could live perfectly fine outside one’s body. It was unnatural. And here in the wilderness, she’d just shown them this on the most literal level she could.
Orlu sat down in the wiggling grass, his hands on his knees. He lowered his head, as if in meditation. Chichi just stared at Sunny and then Anyanwu and then back at Sunny. Sasha stepped forward. Neither Sunny nor Anyanwu moved. Now it was Sunny’s turn to be shocked. He took Anyanwu in his arms and hugged her. Sunny stared at this, her mouth hanging open. She was kind of surprised Anyanwu even allowed it. Then the rush of tears was so intense that she was sobbing before she understood what was happening.
“I can hug you anytime,” Sasha said, looking at Sunny.
Sunny wiped her eyes and laughed. She walked to Orlu and sat on the ground in front of him. He looked up at her and she gazed into his spirit face. “You are truly amazing,” he said.
She smiled and took his hand, helping him to his feet. “I am,” she proudly said.
“Do you ever get confused?” Chichi asked.
“Not at all. Never.”
“Ah-ah, you’re truly an akata witch,” Chichi said, smirking.
“My God, I hate that phrase,” Sunny said, flaring her nostrils.
“Akata bitch, then? How’s that?”
Sasha and Sunny glared at Chichi, and Chichi raised both of her hands. “Okay, okay, I’ll never say the word again.”
Sunny cocked her head, thinking. The word had a life of its own already, that’s for sure. “Or maybe only Sasha and I can use it.”
He nodded. “That’s fair.”
The Nsibidi path led them through the field of wavery grass for what felt like hours. There was a strange, erratic breeze that Sunny thought felt warm, but could you feel in the wilderness, really? Regardless, it was warm and kind of pleasant, even if it did keep starting and stopping almost at random. For a long time, three tiny glowing lights followed them. Specifically Sunny. The interesting thing was that she’d seen these before in the wilderness. Always three of them. They’d fly beside and often above her. Always a steady, soft yellow. In her mind, she began to call them “fireflies,” and for some reason, they didn’t bother her. Their presence actually felt nice, like she had friends here in the wilderness. There was nothing threatening or sinister about them at all, as could often be the case here. The others didn’t seem to notice them, or if they did, were unbothered, too.
Up ahead was what looked like miles and miles of more wilderness grass. Orlu had tried to pull some out. After much effort, it had broken free from the ground with a haunted ooooo sound. None of them had wanted to try it again.
Sunny had never spent so long in the wilderness . . . but was it really that long? No time had passed, technically. She wasn’t hungry, nor did she have to go to the bathroom. Anyanwu walked ahead, standoffish as ever.
“Are we even getting anywhere?” Chichi asked.
“The trees aren’t in view anymore,” Orlu said. “So we are moving through ‘space,’ at least.”
“But where are we going, man?” Sasha groaned.
“We’re following the juju path from the Nsibidi,” Sunny said.
“To where, though?”
She shrugged. “We’ll see. For once, time’s on our side.”
“Thanks to you,” Chichi added.
“You know,” Sasha said. “We’re all technically dead.”
Sunny rolled her eyes. “Pfff, big deal. I die all the time.”
None of them realized they were walking on an incline until they reached the top of the hill and came upon what Sunny could only call a village of roots. It loomed before them, a huge tangle that reached for the ethereal, star-filled blue sky. And Sunny could hear the place cracking and snapping long before they got close enough to see that there were . . . people walking about through the town’s arching root tunnels, around its tangles, and into its knotted branches.
When they joined a path through the grasses that led right into the town, the fireflies finally left Sunny. Maybe they didn’t like the piney scent that was so strong it smelled almost false. Or maybe it was the people here who looked to Sunny like stick versions of Ents from Lord of the Rings. Frail, but somehow still sturdy and surprisingly dexterous as they moved about, some on two stick legs, most on three or four. The Nsibidi path led right into the village.
“Hopefully they’re nice,” Chichi said.
“We’ll see,” Sunny said. If they weren’t, she wasn’t sure what they’d do. She could glide out of the wilderness easily enough, but she wouldn’t be able to find this place the juju had sent them to. And what would happen to Sasha, Orlu, and Chichi if she weren’t here to maintain the “hold”? Come to think of it, if something happened to her here, would they . . . die? She shook off the worry but wasn’t able to do so completely. I have to be careful, she thought.
It was only when they reached the village itself and one of the people walked by without a glance their way that they realized these root people were walking backward. They had faces, but they were so embedded in the wood that you had to stare hard to see them. And the fact that the face was on what looked like the back of the head, as opposed to the front, made the realization take even longer.
One of the people came to a bunch of roots, stopped, and blended with it, its body joining the collective, its three legs sinking into the rich red soil, its body bending, hardening, snapping, cracking, and looping with the other roots. They were all doing that, walking here to there, however far, then rejoining bunches of roots.
When they’d gotten halfway through the village, Chichi said, “Should we say something? Sunny, is this how wilderlings normally act?”
“Normally?” Sunny said. “There is no ‘normal’ in the wilderness. Remember Osisi with all the people, creatures, beasts, whatever? It’s like that, only weirder. Things shift, disappear, appear, without warning. And danger isn’t danger in the same way here. We’re not alive. As long as nothing is trying to consume your essence, then you just exist.” She frowned, remembering the jinni who’d tried to do exactly that to her in the wilderness during her punishment in the Obi Library basement over a year ago.
“In that case then . . .” Sasha went right up to a large root person with four legs and said, “Hey, ’sup, mah nigga, your roots looking fine as wine; mind if I ask you where the hell we are? ’Cuz we ain’t from here, and, you know, we’re trying to get somewhere important.”
“Oh my God,” Sunny muttered.
Chichi giggled. “I love him.”
Orlu brought his hands up.
The root person turned around so that the face on the back of its head could look at Sasha. Its four legs, rooted right there in the path’s dirt, churned the soil softly. All the business of the village immediately stopped as they all turned to Sasha. Sasha glanced at Sunny.
Sunny held up her hands. She had no idea what to do next.
“Hey, ’sup, mah nigga . . . Hey, ’sup, mah nigga . . . Hey, ’sup, mah nigga . . .” Sasha’s voice and words echoed off the root person, the sound traveling down its stationary body. Sunny could hear it traveling into the ground.
“Ooookay, well, yeah, it’s been great talking to you,” Sasha said, a perplexed look on his face as he stepped around the root person to rejoin the others. When he did, the root person uprooted and continued on its way, walking backward with more purpose than ever. All of them seemed to move faster, stepping around Sunny and her friends, politely, but clearly ignoring them. Minutes later, they emerged from the other side of the village.
“I wonder who they were talking to,” Orlu said.
“What do you mean?” Sasha asked.
“Trees always listen,” Orlu said. “Those roots were probably ears. Someone knows we’re here now.”
Now they were walking a path that went through another field of wavery grass. Anyanwu was several steps ahead again. “I feel like a character in The Wizard of Oz,” Sunny said.
“Is Anyanwu always like that?” Orlu asked.
Chichi nodded. “Was going to ask the same thing.”
“She can hear you, you know,” Sunny said.
Orlu shrugged. “I assumed.”
Sunny looked at her feet as she walked. “Not always . . .”
“So what’s wrong?” Chichi gently asked.
Sunny stopped, and she noted that Anyanwu kept right on going. “Something.” She frowned and then pushed the words out. “My dad . . . when I came home that night, after the Nimm Village, my dad s-slapped me. Anyanwu fled. I don’t blame her, but I think she kind of blames me . . . or something.”
“So you two aren’t talking?” Orlu asked.
“We are . . . I’m here, but we’re just kind of weird with each other. I don’t know what to do.”
“I’m sorry, Sunny,” Chichi said. “I can’t even imagine it. Give it some time.”
Sunny nodded.
“Sunny,” she heard in her ear. Aloud, not in her mind. She looked up and Anyanwu was looking right at her. “Get ready.”
“Huh?”
“Get ready!”
“What do you—” She turned to the others. “Something’s about to happen.” She tried to see up ahead, but Anyanwu was suddenly so far up the path that she couldn’t quite see her.
“Whoa,” Orlu said, rubbing his hands together. “I feel something.”
“Juju?”
“No, not juju,” he said. His hands twitched. “Just something . . . it’s powerful . . . in a scary way.”
“What is that?” Sunny whispered. Then the breeze that had been stuttering and starting became a wind. It was so strong that it pushed them forward. A particularly hard gust even knocked Chichi to the ground. Then the fog came, rolling at them over the field like the breath of a spirit. Sasha helped Chichi up just as it blasted over them. It was cold and smelled like crushed leaves.
“Hold on!” Sunny said, and they all linked arms. In this way they followed the Nsibidi path slowly toward where Anyanwu stood, unmoved by the wind and glowing like a tiny sun. When they reached her, the fog began to roll away.
“Sunny,” Anyanwu said. Sunny felt Anyanwu join with her, her spirit face coming forth. Though the fog left things chilly, she felt warmed. I am old, but never have I met this one. We must be careful.
The fog cleared, and about a half mile ahead the dirt path ended, the Nsibidi path either ending or leading into it: the jungle stretched so high that several of the treetops would have been lost in the clouds . . . if there were clouds. It stretched so wide that it covered the expansive horizon in an entirety Sunny would never have thought possible until now. And standing at the end of the path was . . . someone.
“Who the hell is that?” Sasha asked as they approached the figure.
Orlu let go of Sunny’s hand to shake out his hands. “Makes them itch,” Orlu said. “Never felt it so . . . ugh!” He rubbed them together. “What is this? What is it?!” The Nsibidi on his spirit face began to spin.
“Whatever it is, it’s mighty,” Sunny said.
“Read up plenty on Osisi and other full places, but I never gave enough attention to the wilderness,” Chichi said. “I don’t even really understand the part of it we’re in now.”
“Me neither,” Sasha added. “Figured I’d never really see it until I was dead, so why bother.”
“I . . . I don’t think that’s part of the wilderness, though,” Orlu said. The Nsibidi on his spirit face was spinning madly now. He looked like he was having an allergic reaction . . . if a spirit face could have one. “My undoing skill is going haywire. The laws of that place are not of the wilderness or our living world!”
I cannot let anything happen to me, Sunny thought. So whatever it wanted, there would be no fight. Sunny shivered. “Is this damn ghazal worth all this?”
“No, but we’re here,” Sasha said. “No turning back now.” Sunny, Sasha, and Chichi brought out their juju knives. As Sunny grasped hers, it felt curiously like something inside it was humming. It felt surer in her hand, and this was oddly comforting, even if she didn’t know why.
“I’ll aim for above it,” Chichi said.
“I’ll aim below,” Sasha said.
“Don’t aim anywhere,” Orlu snapped, still rubbing his hands. “We can’t beat it that way.”
About a fourth of a mile away, the path went from dirt to sand, and whatever it was began to move toward them. They froze, and Sunny felt a lightning bolt of terror shoot from her feet to her spirit face. It was . . . dancing. Was that . . . the electric slide?
Sunny squinted. “A man?” she asked.
“Looks like it,” Chichi said.
“No spirit face,” Sasha said.
“That’s not a man,” Orlu said, bending down and scooping up dirt and scrubbing his hands.
The figure danced and danced toward them, kicking up cascades of sand, and even though he utterly creeped her out, Sunny found herself feeling profoundly annoyed. He couldn’t have been taller than four and a half feet, his arms both muscled and chunky. He whisked back the sleeves of his red caftan; the sleeves were so long they dragged dramatically in the dirt.
He had dreadlocks that were thick like snakes, and they were so long that they reached the sand. They grew around his head, covering his face. His large potbelly pushed through his curtain of dreadlocks. When he reached them, he put his hands on his hips and shook them unnaturally fast as he moved in a circle.
“The fuck is this?” Sasha muttered.
The man stopped, pointing a toe out.
Sunny kissed her teeth, now so annoyed she was angry. She hated the way he was pointing his toe. His feet were strange, alien somehow. They looked like the feet of a man who spent most of his time lying around. His toenails were perfectly manicured, even polished with clear gloss, despite the sand on them.
He stood before them, his hands on his hips. Sunny tried to see his face, but his dreadlocks covered it so perfectly that any move he made gave her nothing. He must have had the coarsest of African hair because his locs were solid, locked tightly all the way to his scalp like tree roots. The tips were encrusted with sand.
“The princess, the American, the dyslexic, and the albino have arrived at my front door,” he said. “Dyslexic, what is wrong with you?”
“What are you?” Orlu breathed, rubbing dirt on his hands.
“What is that place?” Chichi asked.
“Why are you so annoying?” Sasha muttered.
“Are we supposed to go in there?” Sunny asked.
“Are you supposed to go anywhere?” he asked, dancing in a circle, reveling in the music of their annoyance. He stopped and waited. However, the four of them had learned over the years. They waited, too. Quiet. Respectful.
Then Sunny said, “We’re here. When you’re ready.”
He nodded and sat down on the path, his dreadlocks perfectly pooling around him in the dirt. They did the same. When you met an elder and that elder sat before you, you sat down, too. Sunny hoped this elder wasn’t an asshole.
“Oh, I’m definitely an asshole,” he said, chuckling.
They all looked at each other and Sunny tried not to laugh. Had all of them been thinking the exact same thing?
“I am the Desert Magician,” he said. He leaned forward and his voice dropped to something that vibrated in Sunny’s mind; it reminded her of how Anyanwu often spoke to her. She wished she could see his face, it would make her so much more comfortable. “Udide and I have written screenplays together. I have told masquerades what to do. I tripped an officer in Nkpor Agu when they invaded that church. I stood with the protesting African students in Nanjing. I helped loot that Target store during riots in Minneapolis. Princess, I know your father well. His music slaps when I join him on the drum machine. I am always here. At the crossroads.” He paused. “So . . . why must you find and bring back this thing?”
“The ghazal?” Sunny asked.
“You know where it is?” Chichi asked anxiously.
“Who asked a question first, jhor?” he snapped.
Sunny held up her hands. “Oh, sorry, please, sir, I . . .”
“I am no ‘sir.’ ”
“Oga?” Chichi asked.
“Desert Magician.”
“Okay . . . Desert Magician, yes, we need to get it,” Chichi said. “Udide will . . .”
“Oh, I know what she can do. Udide will wipe out your ancestors. She will rewrite your future. Edit your present. And she’ll do it in a few days. How many are left? Three? Two? And you ain’t even close!” He laughed with glee. “I have seen her do it. And I know what that object can do. You don’t. You have no idea.” He cocked his dreadlock-covered head. “But what if you fail?” He pointed at Sunny. “Maybe Udide will rewrite you a life where you are not doubled anymore.” To Orlu, he said, “Maybe Udide will make it so that you are a Biafran and you Igbo people finally get all that you deserve.” To Sasha, “Maybe Udide will write it so that you never had to be sent back to dark Africaaaaah.” He laughed at this one. “Maybe humanity needs a good cleanse.”
“Cleanse?” Sunny asked, frowning. But the magician pushed on.
“Now, Chichi, well, I don’t think Udide will be so kind to you, no matter what you do. You are no free agent, and you are a direct blood descendant of one of those who went into her home and stole from her.” He nodded. His accent thickened to very Igbo. “You need to get that ghazal for your personal problem.”
“We want to find it,” Sunny said. “See how far we’ve come.”
“Many have traveled far for reasons they learned were foolish,” he replied.
“If you are the one to let us pass,” Chichi said firmly, “then let us pass!”
“Oh, I see I have touched someone’s nerve,” he said.
“You’ve touched all of our nerves,” Chichi shot back.
The magician stood up and they stayed sitting. “Eh heh, good,” he said, pleased. He held up his left index finger. The nail was also perfectly manicured. “All roads lead to death. But some roads lead to things which can never be finished. I know where you are going, and it is my choice to let you go where you must go.” He looked behind him at the wild jungle. He turned back. “You are sure?”
“Yes!” they all said.
“Then welcome to Ginen. What you hear, you heard, what you say is said.” He raised his hands and Sunny saw that he now carried a long, gnarled walking stick in his left hand and a very basic-looking dagger in his right. “Sunny,” he said. “You can rest from holding. But remember, when you return here, if you return with your friends, you will need to return to that same place to bring them back to the living.”
She nodded.
“Don’t forget.”
“I . . . I won’t,” she said.
“Your friends will die if you do.”
She nodded.
He stabbed the walking stick into the sand, and immediately water began to bubble from the spot. The sand around it darkened under the gush of water, and the Desert Magician laughed. “I am the Desert Magician. I bring water where there is none.”
“Oh my God,” Sunny whispered. Either something huge was coming through the jungle of foliage, or the foliage itself was that something huge. The trees swayed, the bushes undulated, each one to its own rhythm, some slowly, others as if they were being electrified. One palm tree even appeared to be spinning. To see an entire jungle that stretched across the horizon do this was like standing in the shadow of a great, great beast’s foot right before it came down on you. It was hopeless to run. It consumed your common sense. There was nothing but the moment.
The smell blew at them like something’s breath; the smell of solid leaves, trees, bushes, stems, and flowers, warm and thick, smothering. Sunny pressed her hands to her chest and coughed, feeling Anyanwu right beside her. They looked at each other, and it seemed Anyanwu involuntarily slid away from her as if on a conveyer belt.
Sunny turned to Orlu, who was still rubbing dirt on his hands, the Nsibidi symbols still spinning on his spirit face. “You ready?” she asked. Speaking felt like talking through molasses.
“Yeah,” he said breathlessly. “Anything to get away from this guy.” Sunny held out a hand to pull him up. Before he could reach for it, something hot zoomed past her cheek and slapped Orlu’s hand away. “Ah!” he exclaimed. And then he was fighting with it. Whatever it was. Sunny could see nothing, but she heard him grappling with and slapping at it. “Hey! Hey! No!” He looked at Sunny with wild eyes. “My hands!” Then he was making all kinds of motions. Sunny had seen Orlu undo many times, but never had she seen his hands move so quickly. They were a blur.
“Hurry,” the Desert Magician said. “This is not a door that will stay open.”
“Orlu, what’s happening?” Sunny screeched. “What can I do?!”
“Something’s attacking him,” Chichi said, running up with Sasha. “Let it hit you, Orlu. Stick your hands in the mud!” She had her knife out.
“No!” Orlu said, still fighting with it. “Don’t . . . do . . . anything . . . too strong!”
“Time’s a-wasting,” the magician sang.
“Can’t you see what’s happening?” Sunny snapped.
“Seeing is not the same as caring,” the magician replied. “You’re American; you should understand that more than anyone.”
Orlu was losing the battle, his hands slowing down. He made fists with both hands, and then opened them wide, a final motion. Then whatever it was pressed him to the ground, grinding his hands into the dirt.
“Make it stop!” Sunny screamed at the magician.
“I’m not doing anything,” he said casually, checking his annoying manicured nails. “Entry sometimes requires a challenge met.”
“Fuck this,” Sasha said, bringing out his juju knife. “Chichi.”
Chichi nodded. “Sunny, get back.” They moved in perfect unison, their juju knives parallel as they swirled them and then held them upright. “Back!” Sasha shouted at the same time as Chichi did the same in Efik. There was a meaty sound as whatever was holding Orlu down was knocked back. Orlu tried to get up, but the invisible attacker jumped right back on him, pinning him down again. Orlu started screaming, his spirit face stretching horribly, the Nsibidi glowing a hot yellow, and Sunny saw it as she heard it. CRACK! His arm, right at the midpoint between his elbow and his wrist, buckled.
Sunny gagged. Chichi gasped. Sasha leapt at Orlu, slapping at whatever was there. Sunny heard him hit something. “Get away!” he was screaming, his voice cracking. “GET OFF HIM!”
“Orlu!” Sunny screamed, dropping beside him. Chichi stood over her, working some sort of protective juju. Sunny stared at his arm, afraid to touch it.
“You children are wasting my time, o,” the Desert Magician said, bored.
“Shut up!” Sunny, Chichi, and Sasha shouted at him. He chuckled but said nothing.
Orlu’s face was squeezed in a cringe of pain. “Sasha,” he hissed. “Chichi. Do . . . some . . . thing!”
Chichi hesitated. “I’ve protected us . . . as much as I can in the wilderness.”
Sasha nodded. “I have an idea, but, yeah, how will this place affect it?”
“Just do it!” Sunny shouted. The sight of Orlu’s broken arm and the pain she knew he was in was making her nauseous. She clutched his leg and he grabbed her arm with his other hand.
Sasha jumped up and turned toward where they’d come from, brought out his sack of juju powder, reached in, and, as he cut the air with his knife, blew a pinch of it from between his fingers. He knelt down and sliced the air with his knife again. “Ha!” he shouted. Immediately, something came up the hill they’d just scaled. It hit the path, kicking up a burst of dirt, then it was flying again, tumbling through the air on its own wind. Sunny had a moment to register that it was some sort of stick, maybe from the village of stick people. Then Sasha was yelling, “It’s coming! Get out of the way!” as he dove next to Orlu.
Sunny had just enough time to roll to the side. Behind her, she heard another crack! and she heard Orlu yelp. When she turned around, he was sitting up, looking at his arm.
“What the hell is that?!” Sunny cried. “What is that?!”
Sasha stood over Orlu, a half-smug, half-worried look on his face. “Damn,” he said. “It worked! I think.”
“That’s . . . it’s one of those people,” Chichi said, looking closely at it. She touched it and it chittered. But it stayed right where it was, grasping Orlu’s arm.
“You worked a call,” Chichi said, looking at Sasha with admiration. “ ‘Call and Help Will Come.’ Those are tough to get right.”
“And if you’re too desperate, things can go wrong,” Sasha added.
“I think you were lucky you spoke to them back there the way you did.”
“Yeah,” he said. “The thing that comes is called a papa, no matter what form it takes. It heals.”
“Will Orlu heal?” Sunny asked.
Sasha nodded. “It’s like a cast.”
But it wasn’t like a cast at all. Not to Sunny. It was like a foot-long stick creature that had attached itself to Orlu’s arm like some sort of stick baby. Sunny poked at its hard skin, and it chittered again, pressing what could only have been its “head” to Orlu’s arm, protectively. “Weird.”
“Well, if you all are too busy,” the Desert Magician said. “I’ll just be on my way.”
“No!” Orlu said. “Sunny, help me up.”
“You sure?”
They both looked at his arm papa and it looked back at them. “Yeah,” he said. “It doesn’t hurt that much anymore. Just a dull throb. We’re in the wilderness, anyway. Maybe I’m not . . .” He trailed off. The wilderness and the physical world were connected. “It’s fine now . . . or will be.”
They made their way toward the jungle. “I’ll go ahead,” Sasha said. Then he took off at a jog. He paused at the Desert Magician. The magician nodded, and Sasha continued on.
“Don’t get too close until we’re with you,” Orlu said, cradling his arm.
“You sure you’re okay?”
“Yeah,” he said, walking faster toward the jungle.
“Sunny?” Chichi said when Orlu was a few steps ahead.
“What?”
“Don’t keep bringing his attention to it,” she said. “It works better if he gets his mind off it.”
“Okay,” she said. But that was easier said than done with the sound of his screaming still echoing in her mind.
“See the opening!” Sasha shouted from up ahead, pointing. “That’s a hell of a way to enter a jungle.” Where the jungle had been a dense wall of foliage that stretched hundreds of feet into the strange starry sky, it was now a wall of battling foliage, leaves and branches shuddering, smacking, twisting, and writhing. And directly ahead of them was a dark tunnel into it, created by an arch of bent trees. The Nsibidi path led right through it, the only thing that remained bright.
Sunny, Orlu, and Chichi joined him, the magician behind them. “Are my eyes playing tricks on me or is that tunnel . . . moving?” Chichi asked.
Sunny could see it, too. It was as if the bent trees were making an effort to bend, and that effort wasn’t easy. Maybe it was even painful. Trees didn’t normally bend . . . and certainly not into an arch shape.
“We should hurry up,” Orlu said.
“Indeed, you should,” the magician said. He was leaning on his walking stick, water pooling around his feet.
“What about you?” Sasha asked. “Will you be here to let us out when we come back?”
“If you come back,” he corrected. “And what makes you think so linearly? You go there, then you come back here? What if here is not here, and there is here, and the only way is nowhere?”
“Come on, Sasha,” Sunny said in irritation. “Let’s just go. We’ll figure it out.” She grabbed Sasha’s arm before he could respond. Thankfully he came along.
“I’ll be where I’ll be when I go where I go,” the magician said, doing a dance around his walking stick, which didn’t fall when he let go of it. He kicked up a splash of sandy water and stamped his feet in it. “The doors are open; the lion may sleep tonight, but the lioness rears her head. There’s more, more, more!”
Sunny was glad to leave him behind. Aside from the fact that beneath his veneer of playfulness, she could sense something so powerful it was terrifying, he was possibly the most annoying person she’d ever met.
When they reached the arch, they could see that the trees were putting in more than a little effort. A few of them had even begun to straighten back up. The jungle was loud with the calls, the songs, and the chatter of creatures. Something large and green jumped from the top of one of the trees and bounced on the ground, tumbling and then running into the bushes.
“This is Night Runner Forest times a thousand!” Sasha said. “Let me lead the way. I’m more used to this kind of place than you all.” Sasha spent most of his time with his mentor, Kehinde, in Night Runner Forest, so this was mostly true. Mostly.
“Oh, please,” Orlu said. “I just spent a whole summer in forests wilder than Night Runner, sleeping out in the open with a Miri Bird and Grashcoatah.” He stepped in front of Sasha, his hands up.
Sasha grinned and shrugged. “No lies told. Sorry, I forgot.”
Orlu smirked. “So you can forget things.”
“Blame it on that guy?” Sasha said, motioning to the magician, who stood behind them, still watching. “He’s got a weird effect.”
But I’m the one who can see the way, Sunny thought. I probably should be first. Nevertheless, it was Orlu and then Sasha, but all four of them were pressed so closely together that it didn’t really matter. Sunny felt the moment they crossed. First there was a whooshing sound close to her ears. Anyanwu! she called in her mind. But Anyanwu didn’t answer. Then the pressing, like the warm hands of something huge clasping her. “You guys feel that?” she asked. None of them answered, but she knew they did because they all had stopped. Right past the line where the sand became soil and the bent trees began.
She heard Chichi say, “Why do you sound like that?” Then the pressing she felt reversed, and Sunny was expanding, tripping, pouring over everything! Green, green, green was all around her, and the others were in it but far away. She felt herself fall to her knees, but at the same time, she was falling . . . over everything. She fell over the lush world of trees, stems, flowers, roots, leaves. As she fell, she saw, and, oh, there was so much to see.
When she came back to herself, she had her mouth wide open as she inhaled as deeply as she could. She gazed into a clear, light-purple sky, with the sun shining down between the trees. So much sun! In fact, there were two suns: one there, and one there. “What the hell?” she whispered. With her mouth still open, the air’s flavor suddenly registered on her tongue, and she shuddered with surprise. She smacked her tongue and flared her nostrils, loudly inhaling through her nose. She coughed.
Orlu was looking down at her. “Get up,” he said, laughing, the papa still tightly clinging to his arm.
“We’re okay?”
He nodded and helped her up. “Do you feel okay?”
“Where is your spirit face?”
“Where it usually is,” he said.
“Your arm?” she asked before she could stop herself.
Orlu shook his head. “Just let it be. I’m all right.”
“Anyanwu,” she called.
I am here, Anyanwu answered in her mind. But she was far ahead.
Wait, then.
She felt Anyanwu’s annoyance, but she waited. Then Sunny saw a flash of where she was. Anyanwu was up ahead on the path. The mental image disappeared. Anyanwu had never done that, cloak herself. So Sunny could feel her, but not her exact location. Sunny didn’t like that. She coughed again. Sasha and Chichi were nearby, leaning against the trees. Both looked through their usual selves, their spirit faces hidden away again.
“This isn’t the wilderness anymore,” Sunny said.
“Nope.”
“Then where are we?”
“Somewhere else!” Sasha said. “Check your cell phone. Does it have service?”
She brought her phone from her backpack and swiped it awake. According to her phone, it was five p.m. Above, the suns sat in the middle of a purple sky. She frowned. “That’s . . . interesting.”
“No cell service?” Chichi asked.
“I have all four bars of service,” Sunny said. “But I have no idea what ‘OoniGin’ is.” She tested it by going to her Instagram feed and refreshing it. Her brother Chukwu had just posted yet another photo of himself flexing his muscles seconds ago. “It works.” She glanced at her messages. There were twelve, seven from her mother, two each from her brothers, and one from her father. A notification popped onto her screen: gekao would like to share “welcome” with you. Before she could click anything, her phone vibrated and the document opened up.
“Come and look at this,” Sunny said.
Her phone was hot in her hand, hemorrhaging a percentage of battery charge every minute. She shut off the cellular service and Wi-Fi to stop it. The others gathered around her and read the document on Sunny’s phone. It was a strange read, indeed:
Field Guide Introduction:
Sunny Day, Pleasant Night.
This is an automatic alert doc sent to anyone who enters any part of the Greeny Jungle. Welcome. We are glad you have chosen to enlighten yourself about the world around you by entering it. Down with ignorance! If there is one thing we, the Great Explorers of Knowledge and Adventure Organization, cannot stand, it is the fact that the people of Ooni choose to remain ignorant of the world around them! The Forbidden Greeny Jungle is the world. How can a whole sophisticated, matured civilization with all its technology, plants, and gadgets choose to live in a span of a few hundred miles? It is primitive! It is preposterous! It is pathetic! You must wonder the same thing, otherwise why are you out here seeing for yourself?
This alert doc will give you basic information about the section of the Greeny Jungle you have stepped into. What’s most important is what you may encounter. You are in the AJEGUNLE sector. You have entered the Ooni Kingdom.
Consume this information and let it grow within you like a seed, for that is why we did and continue to do it all. Again, welcome and happy exploring.
Personalized selections from
The Forbidden Greeny Jungle Field GuideGathered and compiled by the Great Explorers of Knowledge and Adventure Organization
Purchase of the complete field guide is strongly suggested if you plan to travel deeper.
Download is unavailable at this time.
“Yo, I think we’re in a different world,” Sasha said. He laughed loudly, grasping his head as he walked away. Then he walked back. “That’s why we’re not showing our spirit faces anymore.”
“ ‘Ginen’? In all my days, I have never heard of this place,” Chichi said.
Sasha frowned at Chichi. “Say that again.”
“In all my days . . .” She tapered off, staring at Sasha.
Sunny kept reading, ignoring them. And she wasn’t surprised when Orlu did, too. The descriptions of the things that lived in the jungle were extraordinary. Tiny humanoid creatures called Abatwa who rode ants and lived in the mountains and hills of the jungle because they liked the idea of being above things. Bullion fish who were the color of the gold lake grasses they consumed. Burning bushes that glowed like small fires every ten years and vibrated loudly enough to be heard throughout entire towns. Large, wide-eyed rodents called bush cows who had hands like human beings and were known for their thievery.
Sunny stopped reading and rubbed her temples. It was all so much; she was finding it hard to concentrate. And there was something else, but she couldn’t quite put her finger on it. Orlu took her phone, continuing to read, and she felt relieved. “Take it, take it,” she said. She looked up and wished she hadn’t. She swooned. There were suns in the clear sky, a sky that was . . . a light purple instead of sky blue. “Shit,” she said.
“Hey, Sunny!” The sound of Sasha’s voice made her feel even less in control, and she reached a hand to a tree trunk to steady herself.
“What?”
“Do you notice it?” Sasha said.
“Huh?” Sunny was growing annoyed. She needed to sit down and there was nowhere to sit. She looked at the ground thinking, If I use the mosquito juju and lie down here, how quickly will something else bite me?
“Say something,” Chichi said.
“Something.” Sunny frowned. She said it again. “Something. What the . . . what is happening?!” She wasn’t hearing herself say those words. When she spoke the words, different sounds came out. And she was hearing the others speak a strange language, too. And she was understanding it. “What’s hap—”
Something large snorted nearby and they all jumped. The sound of it walking away was so heavy that it shook the ground and a large white bird flew from a nearby tree.
“Everybody!” the bird squawked. It said it in English . . . from Earth.
Sunny rubbed her hands to her cheeks and squeezed her face. “Oh man.”
“The Everybody Bird,” Orlu said, reading from Sunny’s phone. “No explorer has been able to catch one alive, and when they die, they are quickly consumed by any animal lucky enough to find this bird’s corpse. Everybody seems to find the Everybody Bird tasty, even creatures that are normally herbivores. While alive, the Everybody Bird flies about happily singing a four-syllabled song, ‘Everybody.’ ” He laughed. “At least we know it’s accurate.”
“Do you hear yourself?” Sunny asked.
Orlu shrugged. “I hear it. So? It’s fine. We can probably talk to people here and understand them, too.”
“But how?!”
“Some cosmic-scientific laws shifted when we crossed over,” Sasha said.
“Quantum physics at its most jujufied,” Chichi said.
“Does it really matter?” Orlu asked. He handed Sunny’s phone back to her. “We have to be careful and get out of here before dark.”
Sunny was only able to get moving because she knew Orlu was right. This was not the place to be when the suns went down . . . whenever that was. If they weren’t on Earth, who knew how much time they had? But her head still ached from trying to process too much. The weird language thing. The knowledge deep in her being that she’d left Earth behind, and that where she was now was stranger than anything an astronaut would experience. What she’d seen when she’d crossed over.
Sunny reached out for Anyanwu and found her up the path, still waiting. Had she felt and seen what Sunny had seen? Not for the first time, Sunny wished she could really talk to Anyanwu like she used to. Before the doubling. As she followed her friends, last in line, not daring to look behind her, she let her mind touch what she’d seen. Not only had she glimpsed that this jungle went on and on, she’d seen a strange city. Not strange like Osisi, strange like Tokyo or New York if they were in Lagos and two hundred fifty years from now.
“Oh God, my brain is going to explode,” she muttered, pushing her thoughts away.
NSIBIDI FOR “THE DESERT MAGICIAN”