Akata Witch

Even if they wanted to, they were no match for Jibaku, the richest, tallest, toughest, and most popular girl in school.

It was Orlu who finally put an end to it. He’d been yelling for everyone to stop since it started. “Why don’t we let her speak?” Orlu shouted.

Maybe it was because they needed to catch their breath or maybe they truly were curious, but they all paused. Sunny was dirty and bruised, but what could she say? Jibaku spoke up instead-Jibaku, who had slapped Sunny in the face hard enough to make her lip bleed. Sunny glared at her.

“Why did you let Miss Tate beat us?” The sun bore down on Sunny, making her sensitive skin itch. All she wanted to do was get in the shade. “Why didn’t you just do it?” Jibaku shouted. “You’re a scrawny thing, it wouldn’t have hurt much! You could have pretended to be weak as you hit us. Or did you like seeing that white woman beat us like that? Does it make you happy because you’re white, too?”

“I’m not white!” Sunny shouted back, finding her voice again.

“My eyes tell me different,” a plump boy named Periwinkle said. He was called this because he liked the soup with the periwinkle snails in it.

Sunny wiped blood from her lip and said, “Shut up, you snail-sucker! I’m albino!”

“‘Albino’ is a synonym for ‘ugly,’” he retorted.

“Oooh, big words now. Maybe you should have used some of those on your stupid essay! Ignorant idiot!” She added bass to her voice and enunciated the word “idiot” with her most Nigerian accent, making it sound like eeedee-ut. Some of the others laughed. Sunny could always make them laugh, even when she herself felt like crying. “You think I can go around hitting my own classmates?” she said, snatching up her black umbrella. She held it over herself and instantly felt better. “You wouldn’t have done it, either.” She humphed. “Or maybe you would have, Jibaku.”

She watched them grumble to each other. Some of them even turned and started walking home. “What is it you want from me? What would I apologize for?”

There was a long pause. Jibaku sucked her teeth loudly, looking Sunny up and down with disgust. “Stupid oyibo akata witch,” she spat. She motioned to the others. “Let’s go.”

Sunny and Orlu watched them leave. Their eyes met, and Sunny quickly looked away. When she turned back, Orlu was still watching her. She forced herself to keep her eyes on him, to really see him. He had slanted, almost catlike eyes and high cheekbones. He was kind of pretty, even if he didn’t talk much. She bent down to pick up her books.

“Are… are you all right?” he asked, as he helped.

She frowned. “I’m fine. No thanks to you.”

“Your face looks all red and, well, punched.”

“Who cares?” she said, putting the last book in her satchel.

“Your mother will,” he said.

“Then why didn’t you stop them?” she screamed. She slung the satchel over her shoulder and walked away. Orlu followed.

“I tried.”

“Whatever.”

“I did. You didn’t see Periwinkle and Calculus do this?” He turned his head so she could see his swollen cheek.

“Oh,” she said, instantly ashamed. “I’m sorry.”

By the time they got to the intersection where their paths home diverged, she felt a little better. It seemed she and Orlu had a lot in common. He agreed Miss Tate’s actions were way out of line, he liked reading books for fun, and he, too, noticed the weaver birds that lived in the tree beside the school.

“I live just a little that way,” Orlu said.

“I know,” she said, looking up the paved road. Like hers, his house was white with a modest fence surrounding it. Her eye settled on the mud hut with the water-damaged walls next door.

“Do you know the lady who lives there?” she asked.

There was smoke coming from the back. Probably from a cooking fire, she thought. She had only once seen the woman who lived in it, some years ago. She’d had smooth brown skin tinted slightly red from the palm oil she rubbed into it. Most of the people in the area believed she was some sort of witch and left her alone.

“That’s Nimm’s house. She lives there with her daughter,” Orlu said.

“Daughter?” she asked. She’d assumed the woman lived alone.

“Hey!” someone yelled from behind them. “Orlu! Who’s the onyocha?”

“Good Lord,” Orlu groaned. “Will the drama never end?”

Sunny whirled around. “Don’t call me that,” she said before she got a good look at the girl. “I hate when people call me that. Do I look like a European? You don’t even know me!”

“Seen you around,” the girl said. She was fine-boned, dark brown, and elfin, but her voice was loud and strong and arrogant. So was her smile. She wore an old-looking red, yellow, and blue dress and no shoes. She swaggered over to Sunny and they stood there, sizing each other up.

“Who are you?” Sunny finally asked.

“Who are you?” the girl retorted. “Did someone run you over?”

Orlu sighed loudly, rolling his eyes. “Sunny, this is Chichi, my neighbor. Chichi, this is Sunny, my classmate.”

“How come I’ve never seen you at school?” Sunny asked, still irritated. She dusted off her hopelessly dirty clothes. “You look around our age, even if you are kind of… small.”

“I’ve never needed your stupid school.” Before Chichi could say any more, she and Orlu exchanged a look. “And I’ll never tell you my age. I could be older or younger than you. You’ll never know, even if you are half ghost and half human.” She smirked, looking Sunny up and down, obviously itching for a fight. “Even when you speak Igbo you don’t quite sound Igbo.”

“That’s my accent. I’m American,” Sunny said through gritted teeth. “I spent most of my life there. I can’t help the way I speak.”

Chichi put her hand up in mock defense. “Oh, did I hit a sore spot? I am so sorry.” She laughed.

Sunny could have slapped her. At this point, another fight wouldn’t have made much difference.

“Well,” Orlu quickly said, stepping between them, “this isn’t going very well.”

“You live there?” Sunny asked, leaning around Orlu and motioning toward the hut.

“Yeah,” Chichi asked. “My mother and I don’t need much.”

“Why?” she asked.

Orlu stepped back, looking perplexed.

“I’ll never tell you,” Chichi said with a sly grin. “There’s more to the world than big houses.” She chuckled, turning away. “Have a nice evening, Orlu. See you around, Sunny.”

“Yeah, if I don’t step on you first,” Sunny said.

“Yeah, and if I can even see you coming, ghost girl,” Chichi shot back over her shoulder.

Orlu only shook his head.

Home

Home will never be the same once you know what you are. Your whole life will change. Nigeria is already full of groups, circles, cultures. We have many ways. You are Yoruba, Hausa, Ibibio, Fulani, Ogoni, Tiv, Nupe, Kanuri, Ijaw, Annang, and so on. You add being a Leopard Person to that and your groups split into a thousand more groups. The world becomes that much more complicated. Travel overseas and it’s even more complex. Plus, you are a Leopard Person living in a world of idiot Lambs, so that doesn’t help. You are fortunate because being a free agent puts you (though uncomfortably) with the rest of us Leopard folk, and comfortably with Lambs. Your ignorance will smooth out the edges of your dealings with the world you used to be a part of.