Ginen was more than Sunny could have ever imagined. Its buildings were plants that had “agreed” to house human beings, and thus downtown Ooni’s skyscrapers reached higher than any of those on Earth—and they’d continue to reach even higher. These plants had been reaching for the skies long before human beings began to live in them, and they’d still be there when humans were gone. Sunny was kind of glad that they remained in the suburbs and only saw the skyscrapers from a distance; they looked so overwhelming. Even the skyscrapers in New York and Chicago made her feel dizzy, and the ones in Ginen were way higher.
Ginen’s vehicles ran on electricity-producing plants and only emitted fresh air. The roads were tightly packed dirt that ran between the natural paths the jungle’s “consciousness” cleared. The vine armbands were actually wearable tech that did more than any mobile phone, the residents had computers that grew from seeds, and all their lighting was bioluminescent. It was overwhelming to process. And also somewhat depressing when compared to Earth with its environmental issues and inferior technology.
On a cosmic level, Ginen existed somewhere “beside” the Earth, yet somehow was nothing like it. Where the Earth was mostly a planet of water, Ginen was a planet of jungle. Sunny had seen this with her own eyes, but it was another thing to have two women explaining it to her so matter-of-factly. Sasha had asked how they knew the entire planet was jungle when the people of the Kingdom of Ooni didn’t travel the planet by flight. The response was . . . a lot.
“We have birds who love to fly well beyond,” Ten said. “The same birds who like to dive deep into the water. They come back and they zone trees, and that’s how we get the downloads of what they see.”
The four of them had glanced at each other, but none of them asked what the hell “zoning trees” was or how images from the minds of birds could be downloaded for human beings to see.
“Space traveling birds with Wi-Fi feet,” Sasha said. “Oooookay . . . that’s unexpected.”
“What about people coming to Ginen from . . . from Earth?” Chichi asked.
“They don’t come often, but often enough,” Ten said, laughing. “You’re not the first, second, or even fourth group I’ve met.”
“Ten has a way of always being in the place at the time,” Ogwu said. “Our uncle calls her ‘magnet.’ ”
“I was already on my way to Zed’s place just to wish him a sunny day before going to market when he met me on the road,” Ten said. “Let’s see, I’ve met people from Sahara, Mali, your Untied States—”
“United States?” Sunny asked.
She nodded. “From a great city called Nola.”
Sasha laughed. “New Orleans.” He narrowed his eyes, clearly thinking something. Then he asked, “Everyone’s Black?”
“Black?” Ogwu said.
“Like . . . does everyone look like us? Thick lips, nappy hair, brown eyes, browner skin?”
“How is that black?” Ten asked.
“I don’t understand,” Ogwu said.
Sasha chuckled and nodded. “That’s answer enough.”
“Have you met the Desert Magician?” Orlu asked. He’d been quiet for most of the walk, feeding his papa leaves and looking into the jungle around them.
Ten and Ogwu stared at him a long time before responding. “The Desert Man enjoys himself,” Ten said, kissing her teeth and cutting her eyes. Ogwu said nothing.
“Do Ginen people ever . . . uh . . . leave?” Sunny asked.
Ogwu smiled. “Yes. And they always come back.”
The two women laughed hard. This was clearly an inside joke, but not really. Even Sunny understood. Why leave Ginen for Earth? The one subject that the women refused to talk about was the very person they were going to meet, the one called Gra Gra. “Only Gra Gra can explain Gra Gra,” was all Ten said.
When they finally arrived at the market, it was like any market in Nigeria—aside from the presence of Ginen tech and various Ginen creatures. There was laughter, bickering, dickering, and shouting. The smells of fruits, vegetables, perfume, meat, sweat, incense, oil, and wood. Children were everywhere, running errands, working, playing. Things were transported and dropped off. There were people who wore beaded clothing, long, flowing green pants, caftans, tight-fitting pants, and dresses that made them walk strangely. A man who wore a dress with a train that ran many feet behind him was able to move about with ease, his dress untrodden upon.
“What is he, some kind of royalty?”
Ten and Ogwu frowned and shook their heads. “People just respect his sense of style.”
One booth made Sunny’s jaw drop. It sold windows, tables, stools, tea sets, plates, all kind of items . . . all made of a clear, green material. Just like what Sunny’s juju knife was made of.
Chichi, Orlu, and Sasha had joined a small crowd to watch a man giving a puppet show with puppets made of leaves.
“I’ll be right back,” Sunny said.
“Don’t go far, now,” Chichi warned.
“Just going there,” she said, pointing to the booth.
Chichi nodded, turning back to the puppet show and giggling.
Sunny walked straight to the booth and just stood there.
A tall, lanky young man in front of the booth said, “Sunny day.”
“Sunny day,” Sunny said, smiling sheepishly. “I . . . what . . . what’s all this made of?” She cringed, smiling sheepishly at her question.
He laughed. “The question almost everyone asks,” he said, making Sunny feel instantly better. “Come, I’ll show you.”
“I don’t have any money,” Sunny said. “I don’t want to waste your time.”
“You’ll have money someday, though,” he said.
Sunny followed him into the booth.
He handed her a cup made of the material. “Here, hold.”
She took it and smiled. It felt so much like her juju knife, it was like family. Cool and solid.
“Nice?”
“Yes. Very.”
He took the cup and dashed it against a concrete table. Sunny gasped. The cup didn’t break. And even stranger, one of the sheets of glass and two of the plates had first flashed and then faded a moonlight green. He held the cup to her eyes. “It’s called engenakonakala,” he said. The way he spoke the word sounded strange to her ear, as if the word were not of this world. Literally. Maybe it wasn’t.
“Engeh . . .”
“My mother taught me how to say it. It’s an old word,” he said, putting the cup down. “We usually call it kala glass. Look there,” he said, pointing into a pen near the back of the booth.
Sunny went to look. “Oh!” she said when she saw the three beetles milling about there that were the size of small children. Their wings were mottled white and black.
“Kala beetles,” he said. “When they grow to adulthood, they will be very big; they turn green, transparent, and very, very hard. When they molt, the exoskeleton they leave behind, particularly the part that covers their wings, is the kala glass.”
“So this is all made from beetle wings?”
“Indeed. And it won’t break, fade, or crack. Nothing will stick to it. You mold it by heating it extremely hot. It is an art. One cup made of kala glass will be passed on from generation to generation,” he said proudly. “My family cares for the insects and sells the finest kala glass. Remember the name Nduka’s Kala Glass.”
“I will,” Sunny said. “So . . . is it very expensive?”
“Of course. But you will grow to be someone very wealthy.” He winked at her.
“Why did that other glass glow when you tried to break the cup?”
“Oh. Yes. That’s what happens when you strike a kala glass object made by the same insect.”
Sunny hesitated and then brought out her juju knife.
The man’s eyes grew wide, his smile broader. “Are you from my family?” he asked. “What is your name? Nkduka? Aminu? Onwuegbuzia?”
Sunny shook her head. “I’m just passing through.” She could see Chichi looking for her. “I have to go. Thanks for answering my questions!” She quickly shook his hand, ignoring the strange look he gave her at the gesture. “Bye!”
“Remember Nduka’s Kala Glass!” he called after. “When you are ready!”
There was so much business being done. Sunny was reminded of the last time the four of them walked through a busy open-air market on a mission—when they were on their way to find Udide. This time, they were seeking a different shadowy figure. The encouraging thing was that the Nsibidi path extended before them the entire time. It was clear that to this Gra Gra was where they were meant to go.
“Gra Gra has his own section of the market,” Ten said. They were passing the meat section, and the smell of blood was making Sunny nauseous. The sight of a giant booth that seemed to only sell intestines of various lengths, widths, and colors didn’t help. It was run by four tall, beefy men with sharp cleaver-like tools, and the place was surrounded by excited customers raising their hands for service. Sunny swatted a fly out of her face and wished the place weren’t so crowded. It seemed to take forever to get past this particular booth. When they did, everything seemed to change, including the smell, thankfully.
“Oooh,” Chichi said, sniffing the air. “That’s quality sage.”
They swiftly went from meat being sold all around them to textiles, bundles of herbs and spices, shiny stones, and tiny trees for sale. The people who moved about here all wore beaded attire like Ogwu and Ten. The friends soon came to an area where a purple cloth was spread over the dirt and a yellow curtain surrounded the entire area.
“This is where we part ways,” Ten said.
“Wait,” Orlu said. “Aren’t you going to introduce us?”
“He’s right in there,” Ten said. “It’s not up to us to introduce you or explain.”
“Only Gra Gra can explain Gra Gra,” Ogwu said yet again.
The two women stood looking at the four of them for a second. Then Ten shook her head and said, “Go in. Ask for him and tell him that you are the Desert Magician’s latest passengers.”
They gave each of them a tight hug, wished them “sunnier days,” and then Sunny, Chichi, Sasha, and Orlu were on their own in a market in the suburbs of a city in another world. Sunny tried to watch the women go, but they disappeared too quickly into the constantly shifting river of people.
“I’m uncomfortable,” Orlu muttered. He glanced at the curtain they stood beside and then away.
“Whoever this guy is, he’s not going to be worse than the Desert Magician,” Sasha said.
“There’s a lot between normal and that guy,” Sunny said.
“I hate speculating when we know nothing about what we’re speculating about,” Chichi said. “What’s the point?”
Sunny’s eyes went to the Nsibidi path that ran right through the curtain. She called to Anyanwu, got no response, and sighed. “You’re right,” she said. “Come on.” She stepped to the yellow curtain and pushed it open.
The image flashed in her mind and she thought, Wait a min— But then she stepped in, unable to stop her momentum. She balled her fists and flexed the muscles of her strong arms, the image of what Anyanwu had shown her sinking in. Anyanwu was already there. She’d already spoken with him. But how? The others ran into her back as she stopped, making her stumble closer to the man standing right there.
Gra Gra.
“I was beginning to think my day would go differently,” he said. “Who stands outside the curtain for that long?”
Even to Sunny he was tall, possibly six foot seven, and like the Desert Magician, she could not see his face. But not because it was covered by thick, long dreadlocks; this man wore a purple-and-yellow-striped mask made completely of tiny beads. He wore a purple and yellow striped caftan and matching pants as well. Around each arm, from wrist to elbow over his sleeves, he wore bracelets made of green plants. The ones at his shoulders extended their stems into the air, ending in green flowers. But it wasn’t only the sight of him that threw Sunny off. It was the fact that they seemed to have stepped into a small jungle of . . . marijuana plants? Well, not jungle; it wasn’t dense like what they’d walked through to get here. People were walking among the plants, most of them with shopping bags packed with leaves.
“What?” was all Sunny could say.
“Whoa!” Sasha said, laughing. “Look at all this kush!”
“She said you were coming,” the man said. “You’re lucky she was telling the truth.”
“Who said?”
“ ‘Who said?’ ” he mocked. He laughed and then grew serious, stepping closer to Sunny. He smelled like the sage she’d smelled since they came into this section of the market. “What has gone wrong with you?”
Sunny felt her heart flutter. She stepped away from the tall man. “Anyanwu?” she whispered. Anyanwu was standing right beside him.
Gra Gra laughed. “She’s still not sure,” he said to Chichi. “Not really. Both of them are still trying to work it out.”
“It’s none of your business, anyway,” Chichi snapped, looking him up and down as she protectively stepped in front of Sunny. Being very short, she had to look way up to meet the man’s eyes. This didn’t deter her at all.
The man stared down at her for more than a moment and then said, “You better mind yourself, o,” as he pointed in her face.
“We’ve come too far for games,” Chichi said.
“Indeed,” he said. He stepped closer to Chichi and she took an uncharacteristic step back. “Children always suffer the sins of the mother.”
“What?” Chichi exclaimed. “What do you know about—”
He pointed at her. “You have the most to lose if you don’t go as far as you must. Not just your present and future, but your past, too. She has explained it all to me.”
“You don’t know a damn thing about me or my mother,” Chichi shouted.
Gra Gra scoffed. “I see you. Listen, princess, you have seen the Ooni Tower. The one with the Great Bloom is said to communicate with beings in space, it is so powerful. I have a room in there, just as all royals do. The chief of Ooni is my brother. But I don’t accept privilege from blood. Royalty is erasure. Build your own way.” He stepped closer to Chichi, who was looking at him with wide, quivering eyes.
Sunny took her hand and Chichi grasped it.
When Gra Gra said, “Your cousins,” the tears finally burst from Chichi’s eyes. She put her chin to her chest, her shoulders shaking. For the first time, Sunny realized that Chichi hadn’t gotten over the beating her cousins had given her in her mother’s village. “Your cousins hurt you,” Gra Gra said, his voice still firm. “Anyanwu told me that you still hide a fading bruise on your side, from when one of them punched you.”
Chichi only nodded.
“They’re violent because their mothers are violent. It is the same with my brother who killed two of my other brothers to be chief.” When Chichi looked at him, he nodded. “Yes, this Ooni Kingdom is not a perfect place. My advice to you is to leave that history, that past, that hate behind. Let it die with them. Let it burn out. You don’t have to go back, not for revenge. Leave it. Get this thing for the Udide. We know of her here, too. She is one whose wishes it is smart and good to honor.”
“I’d only returned home,” Chichi whispered. “And they beat me for it! I could have done things to them . . . oh, I should have . . .”
“But you didn’t,” Gra Gra said. “And now you progress.” He stepped away from Chichi.
“Are . . . are you Gra Gra?” Orlu interrupted. “I mean, I assumed, but . . . it’s good to make sure.” He smiled sheepishly.
“I am,” he said, turning around. “Follow me. Business is brisk at this hour; I have little time to spare.” He led them to another section within his section.
Anyanwu returned to Sunny, standing beside her. Sunny was beyond relieved . . . though a little annoyed, too. What took her so long? This place had a stranger vibe than out there, more potent.
The cloth that he’d pushed aside this time was purple, and the space inside was carpeted with tall grass. The leafy plants grew all around them, like guards. A large grasshopper leapt up and flew from Sunny’s descending foot. It clung to the cloth near the top, probably giving Sunny a dirty look.
“I have met only one person from your Nigeria,” he said. “This woman had the loudest mouth I’d ever heard!”
Sasha, Orlu, and Sunny couldn’t help bursting out laughing. Even Chichi giggled.
“Funmi was in a different world, yet within a week, she was running part of my business, and within a year, growing a bigger home than me.” He nodded. “She fares well here. So, you see what it is I sell and grow: it is vegetable, it is spirit. On Ginen, these are the same.” He went to one of the plants and plucked a leaf. “Iriran is vision.”
“Of what?” Sasha asked.
“Maybe you should try and find out,” he said, smirking.
“No, thanks,” Sasha said.
“It would be wasted on you, anyway,” Gra Gra said with a chuckle. He glanced at Anyanwu.
“How can you see her?” Sunny asked.
“Because I am Gra Gra,” he said.
Sunny held Gra Gra’s eyes.
He didn’t look away.
“Can you help us?” she asked. She rubbed her face and heard Anyanwu say, in her buttery-smooth voice, “Relax. Nothing will come of helplessness.”
“It’s not up to me,” he said.
“If he can’t help, then let’s go,” Sasha said, taking Chichi’s hand.
“Nothing but some kind of drug dealer,” Orlu muttered.
Sunny stayed where she was as the others turned and walked, continuing to lock eyes with Gra Gra.
“Sunny,” Chichi called. “Come on. We’re wasting our time.”
“The Nsibidi path ends right here,” Sunny said, keeping her eyes on Gra Gra.
He grinned as he ate the leaf. “I don’t really need it,” Gra Gra said to her. “But they taste good and are good for the body.”
“You can see it end?” Sasha asked, rejoining her.
“Maybe you have to work the Nsibidi juju again,” Orlu said.
“Like the mosquito juju,” Chichi said.
“If it’s not up to you, then who is it up to?” Sunny asked Gra Gra, ignoring the others. No, it wasn’t a matter of reworking the Nsibidi juju. She could feel it. It was still going. Just not here.
“It’s always important to ask the right questions,” Gra Gra said. “You are Village People. This is Village business.”
“If you can see Anyanwu, then you’re a Village Person, too,” Sunny said.
“He can?” Sasha asked.
“I’m not,” Gra Gra said. “I was just born able to see; that is part of why I left the palace. I saw my brother’s . . . other face and it was monstrous. But that’s a story for another day . . . I can see everyone’s other face. Village People or otherwise. I see the faces in plants, too. People buy this iriran for this vision. Those who want to see, who don’t have the ability to see, can.” He paused. “Your Anyanwu told me where you need to go. There is a way. You are in the right place. You couldn’t have come to a righter place. But what will you give me?”
“For what?” Sunny asked, frowning.
“For what must be done,” he said.
Chichi scoffed and muttered, “There’s always a price.”
“Not always,” Gra Gra said. “But today there is.”
“We have nothing,” Sunny said.
“Nothing of value to you, at least,” Sasha said.
“Can’t you just help us?” Chichi said.
He looked squarely at her. “I already have.”
Chichi lowered her head.
“I think I have something,” Orlu said, reaching into his pocket. “I was hoping to grow it myself . . . but I guess it rooting on Ginen of all places is best.” He brought a large oval thing from his pocket. It was smooth and shiny gold with black squiggles all over it.
“What is that?” Sunny asked.
“Found it in one of the forests I stayed in with Grashcoatah,” he said. “Taiwo says it’s a ‘clockwork seed.’ It’ll grow into a plant that’s also a machine.”
“Ah, of course the one with the papa will be the one with a thing like that,” Gra Gra said. He took it and stared at it. He sniffed it and held it to his eyes. Then he grinned. “This pleases me.” He looked at Orlu. “You have pleased Gra Gra.”
Orlu nodded.
“Are you sure you’re not from Ginen?”
“I’m sure,” he said.
“A new type of seed from a different place is always welcome in Ginen,” Gra Gra said. “Welcome,” he said to the seed. He put it in his pocket and looked to them. “Stay here,” he said. He left.
“You sure you should have given him that?” Sasha asked.
“Did you have anything to give?” Orlu said.
“Nope.”
“If he grows that here, he’ll introduce foreign vegetation to Ginen,” Chichi said.
“Honestly,” Sunny said, “I think he knows what he’s doing on that front. And he doesn’t seem like the type to cultivate things to destroy the world.”
“What is it, again?” Sasha asked. “Plants aren’t my expertise. A clockwork seed?”
“You know passionflowers?” Orlu asked.
Sasha nodded. Sunny knew them, too.
“You know how they look a bit like . . . like orreries? Those convoluted mechanical models of solar systems? Like something mechanical, but a plant?”
“Yeah,” Sasha said.
“The clockwork seed looks even more like one,” Orlu said. “I’ve seen the full-grown plant. They’re really cool and behave a lot like sunflowers.”
“Hmmm, so at least they’re not perennials,” Chichi said. “They won’t keep coming back.”
“Unless you want them to,” Sasha said.
They whirled around as what looked like a bush of dried leaves was pushed though the curtain.
“Set it right in the middle,” Gra Gra said from outside.
The four of them moved out of the way as a woman and a man in clothes like Gra Gra’s, minus the cloth mask, pushed in a human-sized bunch of tightly packed and dried iriani leaves.
“Hi,” Sunny said. “Uh, sunny day.”
“Sunny day,” the man said, looking at her with such suspicion.
Sunny wondered what Gra Gra had told them.
They both left the area quickly, the woman averting her eyes from all four of them.
They were going to burn the whole bundle. And the four of them had to be in there as it happened. Even with the top open, Sunny was sure they were all going to die of smoke inhalation. “It’s the only way to open up the way you seek,” Gra Gra said. “The smoke is the bridge to the realm you’re trying to get to.” He pointed to the place farthest from the entrance. “Sit on the grass there.”
As they did, the two people came back in, one of them with a burning stick and the other carrying a leaf as big as himself. They set the dried leaves on fire, which burned up faster than Sunny expected. The bushel became a giant roiling ball of smoke.
“Heeeeyah!” Gra Gra exclaimed with joy. “The spirit is always strong.”
Sunny couldn’t see the man or the woman through the smoke, only Gra Gra, who stood to the side.
“Fan it! Fan it!” Gra Gra said to the man holding the large leaf, and now the smoke was coming toward the four of them.
Sunny shut her eyes and held her breath. She could feel it rolling over her. Warm and soft. When she couldn’t hold her breath any longer and she didn’t hear the others coughing around her, she opened her eyes and inhaled as little of the smoke as she could. She pinched her nose . . . then she frowned. All around her was white smoke; she could just barely see Gra Gra standing there watching. “Why don’t I . . . ?” She took another tentative breath. Nothing. Not even the smell of smoke. And the smoke didn’t sting her eyes, either.
“Because you’re not really here anymore,” Gra Gra said. He’d stepped closer to her. “You’re going.” He looked toward the other side of the smoking leaves. “Fan it! Harder!”
Sunny looked for Orlu, Chichi, and Sasha, but all she saw was swirling smoke.
“Works so fast and effortlessly on your kind,” Gra Gra said. “I’m envious.”
“How do I—”
“Just relax, it will take you,” Gra Gra said. “Tell your friend I thank him for the seed. I have not seen one of these since the pictures in the folktale e-books I used to read when I was a little boy. They have been on Ginen before, just long ago.”
Sunny could see the path ahead now, through the burning leaves. She stood up.
“You’ve moved from living world to spirit world to new living world. Now you move another level deeper. Beware, traveler,” Gra Gra said though the smoke. “If the bush does not kill you, The Road will.”
Yet Sunny kept right on going. Into the burning leaves.