been before, they were outnumbered and outarmed. But in my village, the Okeke people burned hot. They stormed our house, killing my aunt and uncle. I learned later that it was Daib and anyone associated with him that they were after. I said Daib had been in the military—well, there was more to it. He was, apparently, known for his cruelty. My aunt and uncle were killed because of him, because of me being taught by him.
“Daib had taught me how to make myself ‘ignorable.’ This was how I escaped. I ran into the desert, where I cowered for a day. The riots were eventually stamped out, every Okeke in the village killed. When I went to Daib’s home, hoping to find his corpse, I found something else. In the middle of his half-burned house were the clothes he’d been wearing the last time I’d seen him, scattered on his floor as if he’d melted into thin air. And the window was open.
“I packed what I could and traveled east. I knew how I’d be treated. I hoped to find the Red People, a tribe of people who are neither Okeke nor Nuru, living somewhere in the desert in the middle of a giant sandstorm. It’s said that the Red People know impossible juju. I was young and desperate. The Red People are just a myth.
“I made money along the way working idiotic bits of sorcery like making dolls dance and children levitate. People, Nuru and Okeke, are more comfortable with Ewu folk who play the fool, dance about, or do tricks, as long as you avoid eye contact and move on when you’re done entertaining. It’s only by chance that I ended up here.”
When Mwita stopped talking, I just sat there. I wondered how far Mwita’s village was from what was left of my mother’s. “I’m sorry,” I said. “I’m sorry for us all.”
He shook his head. “Don’t be. It’s like saying that you’re sorry that you exist.”
“I am.”
“Don’t belittle your mother’s trials and successes,” Mwita said darkly.
I sucked my teeth and looked away, my arms around my chest.
“So you wish to not be here right now?” he asked.
I said nothing to this. At least his father wasn’t a beast, I thought.
“Life isn’t so simple,” he said. He smiled. “Especially for Eshus.”
“You’re not Eshu.”
“Well, for any of us, then.”
A YEAR AND HALF LATER, it was by chance that I heard the two boys talking as they walked by. They were about seventeen. One had a bruised face and a bandaged arm. I was reading a book under the iroko tree.
“You look like someone stepped on your head,” the unhurt boy said.
“I know,” the hurt boy said. “I can barely walk.”
“I tell you, the man is evil, not a true sorcerer.”
“Oh, Aro’s a true sorcerer,” the hurt boy said. “Evil, but true.”
My ears pricked at the name briefly mentioned the night of my Eleventh Rite.
“That Ewu boy’s the only one good enough to learn the Great Mystic Points, apparently,” the hurt boy said, his eyes wide and wet. “Makes no sense. One’s blood is supposed to be clean to …”
I got up and walked away, my thoughts clouded with rage. I angrily searched the market, the book house, I even went to my house. No Mwita. I didn’t know where he lived. This angered me even more. As I left my house, I saw him coming up the road. I strode up to him and had to restrain myself from punching him in the face.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” I shouted.
“Don’t come at me like that,” he grumbled when I got to him. “You know better.”
I laughed bitterly. “I don’t know anything about you.”
“I mean it, Onyesonwu,” he warned.
“I don’t care what you mean,” I shouted.
“What possesses you, woman?”
“What do you know about the Great Mystic Points? Eh?” I had no idea what these Mystic Points were but they were being held from me and I wanted to know them now. “And … and what of Aro? Why didn’t …” I was so angry that I started choking on air. I stood there panting. “You’ve …you’re a liar!” I screeched. “How can I ever trust you?”
Mwita stepped back at this. I’d crossed a line. I kept shouting. “I had to overhear it from two boys! Two stupid inept common boys! I can’t trust you ever again!”
“He won’t teach you,” Mwita bitterly said holding his arms out wide.
“What?” I said, my voice cracking. “Why?”
“You want to know? Fine, I’ll tell you. I hope it makes you happy. He won’t teach you because you’re a girl, a woman!” He shouted at me. There were tears of rage in his eyes. He slapped his hand against my belly. “Because of what you carry here! You can bring life, and when you get old, that ability becomes something else even greater, more dangerous and unstable!”
“What?” I said again.
He laughed angrily and began walking away. “You push too hard,” he said. “Ugh, you’re not healthy for me.”
“Don’t walk away from me,” I said.
He stopped. “Or you’ll what?” He turned around. “Are you threatening me?”
“Maybe,” I said. We stood like that. I don’t remember if there were people around us. There must have been. People love a good argument. And one between two Ewu teenagers, one a boy and one a girl, was priceless.
“Onyesonwu,” he said. “He won’t teach you. You were born in the wrong body.”
“Yeah, well I can change that,” I said.
“No, you can’t ever change that.”
No matter what I changed into, I could only become the female version of it. This was a rule of my ability that always seemed trivial to me. “He teaches you,” I said.
He nodded. “And I’ve been teaching you what I know.”
I cocked my head. “But … he doesn’t teach you these … these Points, does he?”
Mwita didn’t respond.
“Because you’re Ewu, right?” I asked.
He still said nothing.
“Mwita …”
“What I teach you will have to be enough,” he said.
“And if it’s not?”
Mwita looked away.
I shook my head. “To omit information is lying.”
“If I lie to you, it’s only to protect you. You’re my … You’re special to me, Onyesonwu,” he blurted, wiping some of his angry tears from his cheek. “Nobody, nobody, should be allowed to hurt you.”
“Something’s been trying to do just that!” I said. “That … that horrible red and white eye thing! It’s evil! … I think it watches me in my sleep sometimes …”
“I have asked him,” he said. “Okay? I asked him. I look at you and I know … I know. I told him about you. I told him after you ended up in that tree. I asked him again after you realized you were Eshu. He won’t teach you.”