My friend, it took a while to find a way through the haze sprinkled on us by Nana Merrimore’s words. Just like Gran-pa and his old man proverbs, she had us spinning, not knowing in which direction to turn: north, south, east or west? Or should we dig a hiding place for ourselves deep in the earth instead? Believe me when I tell you that listening to her that day was like trying to see through a dust storm.
Imagine everything covered in grime inside and out. And beyond, as far as the eye can see, a blur of shapes grainy with sand from the Sahara wind we call the harmattan. When it blows old people and babies cough, some die and just about everyone ends up sneezing, until, half-blind, we rub our eyes to clear them of grit. During the season of inclement wind, there is grit everywhere.
That’s how we felt that night: blinded and distracted by words underlined by fear that we didn’t fully understand. Our teacher, distressed, was not herself. What’s more, her warnings had an undertow that seemed to drag her from us, while on the shore we tried to call her back.
Our remedy was to talk. We dissected her words. What did she mean by saying we were not alone? Of course we weren’t alone! I’d never thought so, and neither had Zula.
It’s not that I could say, hand on heart, that I’d seen wrists with tattoos such as ours, but just because I hadn’t, meant nothing. Maybe one day we would; then we would know, as surely as one hand cannot clap by itself, that there are others like us. We realised, if the three of us were custodians of sacred sites, there must be hallowed places elsewhere, places with caretakers who cherished them and would be as devastated as we had been when our sanctuary in Ashanti was desecrated.
What surprised us – if what Nana Merrimore said was true – was how organised we were. In fact, one of the first questions we asked ourselves that night was how we could make contact, if we needed to, with others like ourselves?
‘Pa will know,’ Zula said. ‘I’ll ask him tomorrow.’
‘And I’ll ask Okomfo Gran-pa as well,’ I decided. ‘We need to find out in case anything happens to our teachers. Do you seriously think they’re in danger?’
‘Your grandma believed so, Zula. And now so does Nana.’
‘I was thinking that myself,’ Zula confessed, before shuddering and shaking her head.
We were sitting in a circle on Linet’s bed.
Linet stroked her talisman: ‘Nana’s changing. It’s as if…’ She paused: ‘It’s as if she wants to foist me on those strangers.’
‘Didn’t you like them?’ asked Zula.
‘They seemed a little…’
‘Weird?’ I suggested.
Linet nodded. ‘And here’s another thing, I’ve never heard anyone call Nana sweetheart before. Do you think…’
I jumped in: ‘Eh-eh, my sister! I beg you on my knees. Do. Not. Go. There.’
‘But we’re there already,’ Zula smiled. ‘Your nana and that long thin man? Eeei!’
‘I was only wondering,’ said Linet. ‘You can’t fault me for thinking about Nana’s past when it’s a lot easier than fretting over what she said today.’
Linet moved to the window seat of her bedroom and looking out at the lake, allowed Bracken to jump on to her lap.
Little by little, as she gazed on water, I began to realise it was feeding her, like a mother nurturing a baby in the womb. Having revealed her past, the lake, and its drowning pool, seemed to cradle my sister as if preparing to take Nana Merrimore back. I felt the heft of the cord between the lake and Linet, the throb and flow of emotion as from one moment to the next their pulses coiled, circling each other until they started beating in time.
To see through the haze of Nana Merrimore’s words and grasp their meaning, I listened to Gran-pa’s voice, the voice I carried within me.
‘If your instincts are correct, Adoma,’ I heard him say. ‘And your instincts often coincide with mine, then it is my humble opinion that Nana Merrimore is preparing to make a journey to her village, a journey from which no one returns.’ Returning to the village is an old man’s way of talking about death.
My heart reeled. So Zula’s grandmother had been right. I inhaled deeply, tiptoeing around the fact that a possibility of an ending might also explain Gran-pa’s behaviour recently: cantankerous and reckless, he’d started behaving like a man with nothing to lose.
Before my imagination could dip a toe in a pool of snapping crocodiles, I recoiled. Having swallowed the thought and sealed my lips, I chose to concentrate on Linet’s grandmother. What had been unnerving was the drumbeat of fear I’d sensed at her core. But as Gran-pa had once said to me: ‘Who knows how each of us will react when danger knocks on our door? Will you smile and let him in, Adoma? Or run and hide? Nobody knows, grandchild. Neither you or I, because the roots of fear run deep and its fruit is poisonous.’
‘Okomfo Gran-pa will know how to help,’ I said to Linet. ‘I’ll ask him.’
‘I’ll find out what I can from Pa as well,’ Zula added. ‘He’ll have an inkling if Nana’s shell is cracking like a chick about to be born.’
The hairs on my neck bristled. The cracking of an egg, a chick about to be born, is yet another way of talking about death. Zula and I appreciated this, leeching any hope we still held.
It was well after dusk by now. The light of a full moon shining on the lake’s surface illuminated the silhouette of oak trees at its edge. Opening the window, Linet pulled back curtains that framed the room. A profusion of moonbeams flooded in as she turned from the lake, its reflection still playing on her face and hands, still humming in her heart.
‘I’m not sure of anything anymore,’ she said. ‘I can’t tell if Nana’s lying to protect me, or simply telling the truth. All I know is she’s terrified. Are your teachers scared as well?’
‘Not that I’ve noticed,’ said Zula. ‘Pa’s grieving, but that hasn’t stopped him talking to our friends and neighbours. We’ve made a decision to challenge the company prospecting for copper and coal in the mountains. We don’t want the Sleeping Giant touched. Who but a fool would destroy the source of water that we use for ourselves and our livestock?’
‘Then we must be fools,’ I concluded. ‘I’ve heard people saying that poisoning our river with cyanide and mercury will be worth it if they find gold.’ I squeezed my mouth, kissing my lips. ‘Money talks big time everywhere. Okomfo Gran-pa’s the only person I know who isn’t greedy for it. If anything, he’s taking more risks than ever now.’
‘How?’ asked Zula.
‘He’s as angry as a soldier ant at those galamsey people and yet he blames the chief for what’s happening. When he goes to see him, he threatens to take the whole lot of them to court.’
Zula nodded: ‘Pa and his friends have sent a delegation to speak to our government. We’re not expecting much, but Pa says the very least we should do is try…’
‘We all have to try harder,’ said Linet. ‘Try harder and do things differently…’
‘Perhaps we should use more magic,’ I suggested. ‘If Gran-pa hadn’t stopped me, I’d have blasted the chief when I met him. And as for those miners, I’d have flung them in the air.’ I sighed, unable to hide my frustration. ‘Gran-pa says it’s better to take them to court because the law’s on our side.’
‘But the law’s slow,’ Zula replied. ‘In any case, Grandma said people high up don’t listen to the likes of us.’
‘Poor on earth,’ I sniffed, ‘a loser everywhere!’
Linet pulled a nightdress over her head and sat on the bed, completing our circle. ‘What I’d like to know is, should we keep doing what our teachers have done, if it’s not working anymore?’
Her words settled like a stone lobbed into a pond, its ripples scudding out as Zula chucked another in: ‘Perhaps we should be more open about how we protect our shrines.’
‘You mean use magic openly?’ I shook my head. ‘Gran-pa’s right to be cautious. Nothing would please me more than to blast those miners to pieces. But we took an oath to protect life. What comes naturally to us is scary to outsiders.’ I clicked my fingers. ‘They’d kill us just like that if they saw us use magic.’
‘That doesn’t mean we shouldn’t change tack,’ Zula replied. ‘Our teachers are Sankofa. They returned to their roots to teach us what they know. They’ve helped us grow into nsoromma. Maybe when our time comes, we’ll find another way to protect our sites.’
A possibility seized me. ‘What about a squad of sky-warriors?’ I clapped my hands. ‘With the right contacts, we can connect, pool our gifts and use them to defend our sanctuaries.’
‘We’ll be different,’ Linet added, her face still flushed from the lake. ‘We’ll find a way to replenish your river, Adoma. We can’t make the trees grow back quickly, but once we’ve forced those miners out, we can clean the river, help it flow again and plant more trees.’
‘We should do it!’ I cried.
The lock on her forehead gleaming moonstone bright, Zula took Linet and I by the hand. ‘Listen carefully. Before Grandma died she said to me: “Tell your sisters, unless the three of you use every morsel of what’s inside you, we shall never defeat today’s skin-walkers.”’
A wolfish shine entered Zula’s eyes. Ears pricked, her gaze fixed, I felt a sensation of ice creep over my skin as her excitement gripped me.
‘All those years ago, when we first met at the Giant’s mouth,’ she went on, ‘I sensed others with us: creatures and birds that open us up to greater insights. Have you noticed any changes in you recently?’
I remembered the image of a leopard flashing through my mind as the river goddess’ shrine was destroyed. And, the last time we’d met at the Giant’s mouth, I recalled that when I placed my brow against Zula’s, I’d felt the leap of a leopard in my heart; not to mention the strange sensations I now experienced during my night travels. Eager to understand, I answered, ‘Yes…’
While Linet, rubbing her chest, replied: ‘There’s a bird in me. Only today on the moor, when I needed a cloak of feathers to keep out the wind, I called on it.’
‘I saw the cloak,’ I confirmed.
I placed Linet’s fingers against my cheek, relieved we were talking about a transformation we’d both sensed but hadn’t been able to put into words. The more I thought about it, the greater a recollection of animal warmth surfaced: a shadowy creature with paws that clawed the bark of trees whenever I set foot in the forest.
‘Mine’s definitely a leopard,’ I admitted. ‘Sometimes it slides between my legs as if it wants to trip me over. It craves my attention.’
‘Of course it does! Our spirit creatures are a part of us, our special gift. I am wolf.’ Her grey eyes sparking yellow as her spirit shone through, Zula smiled. ‘Come, my sisters.’