Akata Witch

stopped getting up whenever Saye or Miknikstic fell. His face was unsmiling and stern. Sunny, Sasha, Orlu, and Chichi were the only students who had stopped enjoying the spectacle. Chichi was frowning. Orlu had a stunned, blank look on his face. Sasha looked angry and glared at the commentator whenever one of the competitors fell, as if waiting for her to put a stop to it.

Miknikstic was wrestling with Saye’s ghost arm, which kept escaping his grasp. A part of it extended away from Miknikstic. It threw a punch at Miknikstic’s chest. Miknikstic doubled over but didn’t fall. He wiped the blood from his face. Saye took the moment to spit out a tooth.

Suddenly, Miknikstic’s face undulated.

“What the hell?” was all Sunny could say.

His face had become a wooden square mask. It looked like a robot-if a robot were made of wood. The crowd gasped in shock.

“Oh, Jesus,” Chichi said, looking away.

Saye brought forth his spirit face, too-a gray stone face of a lion.

“And now they are down to it,” Mballa said. “The blood is flowing and the true selves emerge. Don’t turn away, people. Truly these two are noble and selfless men, o.”

They went at each other again. This time, their spirit selves took the lead. Miknikstic lumbered forward, and Saye leaped. Miknikstic dodged Saye, rolled around him, and grabbed his arm. He yanked. There was a loud crack, and Saye’s good arm was dislocated from its socket. Saye gave a mighty roar, rolled over Miknikstic, and drove his ghost hand right through Miknikstic’s chest.

A silence fell over the crowd. Sunny clapped her hand over her mouth.

Miknikstic fell to his knees, gushing blood. Sunny whimpered, tears rushing into her eyes. She wiped them away.

He whispered something to Saye, and then fell to the ground. He was dead.

It started raining chittim on the field. As they fell, Saye straightened out Miknikstic’s body. Not one chittim hit either of them. Sunny would never forget the metallic clacking. When the chittim stopped, Mballa the commentator found her voice. It cracked as she said, “Bow down to this year’s Zuma International Wrestling Cha-”

Miknikstic suddenly got up. He gazed up at the sky as brown feathered wings unfurled from his back. He crouched down and then leaped, shooting into the sky like a rocket.

“Oh, praise Allah! What a fight this was tonight!” Mballa shouted. “We have witnessed yet another fallen wrestling competitor become a guardian angel! People give our new champion, Saye, and Saint Miknikstic a hand! Oh, this is just amazing! Amazing! Ah-ah!” She started clapping. The whole crowd could hear her soft sobs because she’d forgotten her voice was still amplified.

“I want to go home!” Sunny shouted, getting up. Anatov reached over his chair and grabbed her by the collar. “Let go! I hate this, I hate all of this! You people are crazy!”

Chichi stared at her feet. Sasha was furious. Orlu took Sunny’s hand. Anatov let go. Orlu pulled Sunny to him into a tight hug, and she sobbed into his chest.

“Keep her there,” Anatov said. “I have to go with the other scholars.”

Still holding on to Orlu, Sunny watched as Anatov joined the scholars walking into the arena. A woman ran in screaming. Another tall woman with long dreadlocks slowly followed.

“Ladies and gentlemen, meet Sankara, wife of Saye and architect of the Leopard Town of Zerbo-and meet Kadiatou, wife of Saint Miknikstic and warrior of the Women of the Cliffs,” Mballa said. “Please give them a round of applause.”

The crowd thundered with applause as Sankara threw her arms around Saye, wiping his bloody face with her garments. Kadiatou, Miknikstic’s wife, just stood there in the middle of the arena looking up at the sky.

“Now the scholars will help heal Saye, so please don’t worry about our champion. He will be fine. The match is over,” Mballa said, out of breath. “I hope you enjoyed the show.” She ran her juju knife across her throat again and then just sat there.

They watched as people left, talking excitedly about the match. In the arena, the scholars had surrounded Saye, who now lay on the ground. Sunny couldn’t see what they were doing exactly. Miknikstic’s wife stood in the middle of the arena, gazing at the sky. No one comforted or congratulated her.

Sunny pulled away from Orlu and, without a word, pushed some chairs aside. “What are you doing?” he asked.

She jumped into the arena and ran as fast as she could. She passed the group of scholars surrounding Saye. They were humming and something was swooping about. She focused on Miknikstic’s wife. She was a lot taller up close. She wore a long dress made of the same yellow material as Miknikstic’s outfit, her long dreadlocks tied with a matching cloth. Sunny stepped up to her. She could smell the woman’s scented oil, like jasmine flowers. “Excuse me, Mrs.-”

“I am not ‘Mrs.’ anymore,” she said, her back to Sunny.

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s what he’d always known he would become. He’s dreamed about it since he was a baby. But he didn’t know it would be so soon.”

Sunny began to feel as if she was imposing on the woman’s grief.

“I-I met your husband just before the match,” she ventured. “I’m a free agent and I just found out a few months ago and here I am now. I was upset because I was overwhelmed.” She paused. “He saw me and he… he talked to me and made me feel better. He gave me this.” She held up the yellow handkerchief. Miknikstic’s wife still didn’t turn around. “I just wanted to tell you how grateful I am to him.”

Silence. Sunny turned to leave.

“Wait,” Kadiatou said, turning to Sunny. She had a wide nose, round eyes, and two dark squiggles tattooed on each cheek. She wore a thick metal bracelet around each wrist. “Thank you,” she said. “My husband was a good person, but he picked and chose who he spoke to.” She clicked her bracelets together and they produced a large blue spark. “You have my blessing, too.” She tilted her head back to the sky.

Sunny hurried over to Orlu, who stood a few feet away.

“You met him?” he asked.

“Yeah, when I went to the bathroom.”

They walked past where Saye still lay. He was groaning and his wife was sobbing, “It’ll be okay, it’ll be okay, my love! Be still.”

“He’ll be fine,” Anatov said, walking over to them.

“Now I know why my parents never brought me to watch,” Orlu said.

“This one was especially… eventful.”

“Why didn’t they stop it?” Sasha asked.

“Because life doesn’t work that way,” Anatov said. “When things get bad, they don’t stop until you stop the badness-or die.” He paused. “That’s an important lesson for all of you. This is why I brought you here. This is why you’re staying in that hotel. Look around, listen and learn. This is not a holiday. In a month, you will all be facing something as ugly as what these two men faced this afternoon.”

14

The Football Cup

After Anatov left for his meeting, they were free until eleven P.M. There were things to buy, the possibility of a soccer match, and a social for the students. But they had just witnessed death. And then something beyond death. They returned to the same booth where they’d bought lunch and ordered glasses of very weak sweet palm wine. It was the only type the vendors would sell to anyone underage. The four of them sat in brooding silence and sipped their drinks.

“Let’s cheer up some,” Chichi said suddenly. “Come on. We’re in Abuja with no parents. It’s barely two o’clock!”