“We have a choice?” I snapped. “Do you want to try getting through that storm?”

We set our tents up where we’d had them before the storm came. Except Luyu. She would stay with Fanasi.

For the first few hours, the Vah constructed their homes like the expert nomads they were. The sun was setting and the desert, even in the eye of the storm, was cooling down, but I refrained from building a rock fire. Who knew how these people reacted to juju?

We kept to ourselves and within ourselves we kept to ourselves more. Diti hid in her tent as did Fanasi and Luyu. Mwita and I, however, sat outside in front of ours, not wanting to look too antisocial. But while the Vah set up, even the children ignored us.

After dark, people began to socialize. I felt silly. Every tent I could see glowed with the light of a rock fire. Chieftess Sessa, Chief Usson, and an old man came to greet us. The old man’s face was etched with the kind of wrinkles that come with age and wind. I wouldn’t be surprised if there were grains of sand trapped forever inside those wrinkles. He looked at me with scrutiny. He made me more nervous than the angry-looking and silent Chief Usson.

“You can’t look me in the eye, child?” the old man asked in a low gruff voice.

There was something about him that I found very agitating. Before I could respond, Chieftess Sessa said, “We came to invite you all to our settling feast.”

“It’s an invitation and an order,” the old man said firmly.

Chieftess Sessa continued, “Wear your best clothes if you have any.” She paused, motioning to the old man. “This is Ssaiku. You will undoubtedly come to know him well as the days pass. Welcome to Ssolu, our moving village.”

Chief Usson gave all of us a prolonged angry glare and the old man Ssaiku eyed me and then Mwita before leaving our camp.

“These people are so strange,” Fanasi said, when the three were gone.

“I don’t have anything good to wear,” Diti complained.

Luyu rolled her eyes.

“Must all their names start with S or have S’s in them? You’d think they were descendants of snakes,” Fanasi said.

“That’s the sound that travels best, the ssss sound. They live in all this noise from the dust storm, so it makes sense,” Mwita said, going into our tent.

“Mwita, did you notice that old man?” I asked, joining him. “I can’t recall his name.”

“Ssaiku,” Mwita said. “You should take note of him.”

“Why? You think he’ll be trouble?” I asked. “I don’t like him at all.”

“What about Chief Usson?” Mwita asked. “He looked pretty angry.”

I shook my head, “He probably always frowns. It’s that old man I don’t like.”

“That’s because he’s a sorcerer like you, Onye,” Mwita said. He laughed bitterly to himself and grumbled something.

“Eh?” I said, frowning. “What did you say?”

He turned back to me and cocked his head. “How in Ani’s name is it that I can tell and you can’t?” He paused again. “How is it that…” He cursed and turned away.

“Mwita,” I said loudly, taking his arm. He didn’t pull it away, though I purposely pressed my nails into his flesh. “Finish your thought.”

He brought his face close to mine. “I should be the sorcerer, you should be the healer. That’s how it’s always been between a man and woman.”

“Well, it’s not you,” I hissed trying to keep my voice down. “You aren’t the one whose mother in a wasteland of desperation asked all the powers of the earth to make her daughter a sorcerer. You aren’t the one born from rape. You came from love, remember? YOU aren’t the one the Nuru Seer prophesied would do something so drastic that she’ll be dragged out before a screaming crowd of Nurus, buried to her neck and stoned until she is dead!”

He grabbed my shoulders, his left eye twitching. “What?” he whispered. “You…”

We stared at each other.

“That’s… my fate,” I said. I hadn’t meant to tell him this way. Not at all. “Why would I choose that? I’ve been fighting from the day I was born. Yet you talk as if I took something precious from you.”

“Hey, Onye?” Luyu called from her tent. “You should wear that rapa and top that woman gave you in Banza.”

“That’s a good idea,” I called back, still facing Mwita.

I heard Fanasi playfully say, “Come here.”

Luyu giggled.

Mwita left our tent. I poked my head out about to call him back. But he walked fast, passing people without greeting them, his head unveiled, his chin to his chest.

Those old beliefs about the worth and fate of men and women, that was the only thing that I didn’t like about Mwita. Who was he to think he was entitled to be the center of things just because he was male? This had been a problem with us since we’d met. Again, I think of the story of Tia and Zoubeir. I despise that story.

CHAPTER 42

I WOKE UP TWO HOURS LATER WITH TEARS DRIED ON MY FACE. Music was playing from somewhere. “Get up,” Luyu said, shaking me. “What’s wrong with you?”

“Nothing,” I muttered groggily. “Tired.”

“It’s time for the feast.” She wore her best purple rapa and blue top. They were a little battered but she’d rebraided her cornrows into a spiral and put on earrings. She smelled of the scented oil she, Diti, and Binta used to drown themselves in back home. I bit my lip, thinking about Binta.

“You’re not dressed!” Luyu said. “I’ll get some water and a cloth. I don’t know where these people bathe-there are always people around.”

I slowly sat up, trying to shake off the deep sleep I’d been in. I touched my long braid. It was full of sand from the storm. I was unbraiding it when Luyu returned with a pot of warm water. “You’re going to wear your hair down?” she asked.

“I might as well,” I mumbled. “No time to wash it.”

“Wake up,” she said, lightly smacking my cheek. “This is going to be fun.”

“Have you seen Mwita?”

“No,” Luyu said.

I put on my outfit from Banza, fully aware that its many colors would attract attention that I wasn’t in the mood for. I brushed out my thick long hair and used some of the warm water to get it to lie down. When I came out of my tent, Luyu was there to spray me with scented oil. “There,” she said. “You look and smell lovely.” But I noticed her eyes grace my face and sand-colored hair. The Ewu-born will always be Ewu.

Fanasi wore the brown pants and stained white shirt I saw him wear almost every day, but he’d shaved his face and head. This brought out his high cheekbones and long neck. Diti wore a blue rapa and top that I hadn’t seen her wear before. Fanasi might have bought it for her in Banza. She’d combed out her large Afro and patted it into a perfect circle. I sucked my teeth when I noticed Fanasi fighting not to look at Diti and hungrily looking at Luyu. He was the most confused man I’d ever seen.

“Okay,” Luyu said, leading the way. “Let’s go.”

As we walked, I wondered how long these people had been a nomadic tribe. My guess was a long, long time. Their tents were set up in a matter of hours and were no less comfortable than houses, even having floors made of the furry pelts of some sort of brown animal.

They carried their plants in large sacks of a type of fragrant substance called soil. And they all used minor juju to build fires, keep insects away, and so on. The Vah also had schools. The only thing they didn’t have were many books. Too heavy. But they had a few for the sake of learning to read. Some of this I saw on the way to the feast. But most of it I learned during our stay.

It was a grand gathering, a large feast set up in the center. A band played guitars and sang. Everyone was dressed in their finest. The style was simple: red pants and shirts for men and combinations of red dresses for the women. Some of the women’s dresses had beads woven into the hems and cuffs, others were cut to look jagged and so on.

By this time in my life, I saw myself through Mwita’s eyes. I was beautiful. That is one of the greatest gifts Mwita gave me. I could never have seen myself as beautiful without his help. However, I knew that when I looked at these people, young, old, man, woman, child, with their red-brown skin, brown eyes, and graceful motions, they were the most beautiful people I’d ever seen. They moved like gazelles, even the old ones. And the men weren’t shy. They made direct eye contact right away and smiled very easily. Beautiful, beautiful people.