to the house for one reason or another. Aro spent almost all his time there. The House of Osugbo kept bringing them together, you see.
“Aro would ask, and then Yere would accept. He would speak, she would listen. She would wait and then he would come to her. They felt that they understood how things should always be. Yere was eventually appointed the Ada when the previous Ada passed away. Aro had established himself as the Worker. They complemented each other perfectly.”
Mwita paused. “It was Aro who came up with the idea to put juju on the scalpel but it was the Ada who accepted. They felt they were doing something good for the girls.”
I laughed bitterly and shook my head. “Does Nana the Wise know?”
“She knows. To her, it makes sense, too. She’s old.”
“Why didn’t Aro and the Ada marry?”
Mwita smiled. “Did I say that they didn’t?”
THE SUN HAD JUST RISEN. I was perched in the tree, hunched forward.
I’d woken up fifteen minutes ago to see it before my bed. Staring at me. An insubstantial red sheet with an oval of white steam in the center. The eye hissed with anger and disappeared.
And that was when I spotted the shiny brown and black scorpion crawling up my bedclothes. The kind whose sting could kill. It would have reached my face in a matter of seconds had I not woken. I whipped up my covers, sending it flying. It landed with an almost metallic plick! I grabbed the nearest book and crushed the thing with it. I stamped on the book, over and over, until I stopped shaking. I was fuming as I threw off my clothes and flew out the window.
The vulture’s natural angry look matched how I felt. From the tree, I watched the two boys walk through the cactus gate. I flew back to my bedroom and shifted back to myself. To remain a vulture for too long always left me feeling detached from what I could only define as being a human. As a vulture, I felt condescending when I looked at Jwahir, as if I knew greater places. All I wanted to do was ride the wind, search out carrion, and not return home. There is always a price for changing.
I’d changed into a few other creatures as well. I’d tried to catch a small lizard. I got its tail instead. I used this to change into one. This was surprisingly almost as easy as changing into a bird. I later read in an old book that reptiles and birds were closely related. There had even been a bird with scales millions of years ago. Still when I changed back, for days I found it extremely difficult to stay warm at night.
Using the wings of a fly, I changed into one. The process was awful—I felt as if I were imploding. And because my body changed so drastically, I couldn’t feel nauseated. Imagine wanting to feel sick and not being able to. As a fly I was food-minded, fast, watchful. I had none of the complex emotions I had as a vulture. Most disturbing about being a fly was the sense of my mortality ending in a matter of days. To a fly, those days must have felt like a lifetime. To me, a human who’d changed into a fly, I was very aware of both the slowness and swiftness of time. When I changed back, I was relieved that I still looked and felt my age.
When I’d changed into a mouse my dominant emotion was fear. Fear of being crushed, eaten, found, starving. When I changed back, the residual paranoia was so strong that I couldn’t leave my room for hours.
This day, I’d been a vulture for over half an hour and that sense of power was still with me when I returned to Aro’s hut as myself. I knew those two boys. Stupid, annoying, privileged, boys. As a vulture, I’d heard one of them say that he’d rather be in bed sleeping the morning away. The other had laughed, agreeing. I gnashed my teeth as I walked up to the cactus gate for the second time in my life. As I passed, again one of the cactuses scratched me. Show your worst, I thought. I kept walking.
When I stepped around Aro’s hut, there he was sitting on the ground in front of the two boys. Behind them, the desert spread out, wide and lovely. Tears of frustration wet my eyes. I needed what Aro could teach me. As my tears fell, Aro looked up me. I could have slapped myself. He didn’t need to see my weakness. The two boys turned around and the blank, dumb, idiotic looks on their faces made me even angrier. Aro and I stared at each other. I wanted to pounce on him, tear at his throat, and gnash at his spirit.
“Get out of here,” he said in a calm low voice.
The finality of his tone dashed away any hope I had. I turned and ran. I fled. But not from Jwahir. Not yet.
THAT AFTERNOON, I banged on her door harder than I meant to. I was still wound up. At school, I’d been angrily quiet. Binta, Luyu, and Diti knew to give me space. I should have skipped school after going to Aro’s hut that morning. But my parents were both at work and I didn’t feel safe alone. After school, I went straight to the Ada’s house.
She slowly opened the door and frowned. She was elegantly dressed as always. Her green rapa was tightly wrapped around her hips and legs and her matching top had shoulders so puffy that they wouldn’t fit through the doorway if she stepped forward.
“You went again, didn’t you?” she asked.
I was too agitated to wonder how she knew this. “He’s a bastard,” I snapped. She took my arm and pulled me in.
“I’ve watched you,” she said, handing me a cup of hot tea and sitting across from me. “Since I planned your parent’s wedding.”
“So?” I snapped.
“Why’d you come here?”
“You have to help me. Aro has to teach me. Can you convince him? He’s your husband.” I sneered. “Or is that a lie, like the Eleventh Rite?”
She jumped up and slapped me hard with her open hand. The side of my face burned and I tasted blood in my mouth. She stood glaring down at me for a moment. She sat back down. “Drink your tea,” she said. “It’ll wash the blood away.”
I took a sip, my hands almost dropping the cup. “I-I apologize,” I mumbled.
“How old are you now?”
“Fifteen.”
She nodded. “What did you think would happen by going to him?”
I sat there for a moment, afraid to speak. I glanced at the finished mural.
“You may speak,” she said.
“I-I didn’t think about it,” I quietly said. “I just …” How could I explain it? Instead, I asked what I had come to ask. “He’s your husband,” I said. “You must know what he knows. That’s the way between husband and wife. Please, can you teach me the Great Mystic Points?” I put on my most humble face. I must have looked half crazy.
“How did you learn about us?”
“Mwita told me.”
She nodded and sucked her teeth loudly. “That one. I should paint him into my mural. I’ll make him one of the fish men. He is strong, wise, and untrustworthy.”
“We’re very close,” I said coldly. “And those who are close share secrets.”
“Our marriage isn’t a secret,” she said. “Older folks know. They were all there.”
“Ada-m, what happened? With you and Aro?”
“Aro is far older than he looks. He’s