“I’m not finished with you either,” I said, grinning.

“A nice house,” he said. “Out in the desert, away from everything. Two floors, lots of windows. No electricity. Four children. Three boys, one girl.”

“Only one girl?”

“She’ll be more trouble than all three boys combined, trust me,” Mwita said.

There were footsteps outside the hut. A face peeked in. I pulled my rapa more tightly around me. “Just checking,” the soldier said. Mwita drew a rapa around his waist and went out to speak with the soldier. I lay there staring at the scorched black ceiling that in the dim predawn light looked like an abyss.

Mwita came back in. “They need to do something to Luyu before we go,” he said.

“Do what?” Luyu groggily said, just waking up.

“Nothing serious,” Mwita said. “Get dressed.”

Mwita stood behind Anai who knelt in front of a fire holding a metal poker in the flames. The others were packing up. I took and squeezed Luyu’s hand. A soft breeze made the corn stalks lean west.

“What is that?” Luyu asked.

“Come and sit down,” Mwita said.

Luyu pulled me with her. Mwita handed us each a small plate of bread, roasted corn, and something I hadn’t had since we’d left Jwahir: roasted chicken. It was bland but delicious. When we finished eating, two of the soldiers who refused to speak to us took our plates.

“Okeke are slaves here, you know this,” Anai said. “We live freely but we have to answer to any Nuru. Most of us spend the day working for Nurus and some of the night working for ourselves.” He laughed to himself. “Though we obviously look different from the Nuru, they feel it important to mark us.” He picked up the thin red hot poker.

“Ah, no!” Luyu exclaimed.

“What!” I said. “Is it really necessary?”

“It is,” Mwita calmly said.

“The sooner you do it, the less time you have to think about it,” Anai told Luyu.

Bunk held up a tiny metal hoop with a chain of black and blue beads. “This used to be mine,” he said.

Luyu glanced at the poker and took a deep breath. “Okay, do it! Do it!” She painfully squeezed my hand.

“Relax,” I whispered.

“I can’t. I can’t!” But she stayed still. Anai moved quickly, sticking the sharp poker into the cartilage at the top of her right ear. Luyu made a high pitched peeping sound but that was it. I almost laughed. It was the same reaction she’d had during her Eleventh Rite circumcision.

Anai inserted the earring. Mwita gave her a leaf to eat. “Chew it,” he said. We watched as she chewed, her face contorted with pain. “Are you all right?” Mwita asked.

“Think I’m going to be…” She turned to the side and threw up.

CHAPTER 57

OUR GOOD-BYES WERE QUICK.

“We’ve changed our plan,” Anai told us. “We’re going around Gadi. There is nothing there for us. Then we’re going to wait.”

“For what?” Mwita asked.

“News of you three,” Anai said.

And with that we parted. They went east, and we went west, to my father’s town, Durfa. We started down the row of lush green corn.

“How does it look?” Luyu asked, tilting her head toward me to show her earring.

“It actually looks nice on you,” I said.

Mwita sucked his teeth but said nothing, walking a few steps ahead. We had nothing but the clothes on our bodies and Luyu’s portable. It felt good, almost liberating. Our clothes were dirty with dust. Anai said Okeke walked about in dirty ragged clothes, so this would help Luyu blend in.

Where the corn ended, a black paved road busy with people, camels, and scooters began. So many scooters. The rebels said that in the Seven Rivers towns they called them okada. Some of the okada had female passengers but I saw none with women drivers; in Jwahir it was the same. Across the road, Durfa began. The buildings were sturdy and old like the House of Osugbo but nowhere near as alive.

“What if someone asks me to work for them,” Luyu said. We still hid in the corn.

“Then say you will and just keep walking,” I said. “If they insist, then you have no choice until you get a chance to sneak away.”

Luyu nodded. She took a breath and closed her eyes, squatting down.

“You okay?” I asked, squatting beside her.

“Scared,” she said, frowning hard.

I touched her shoulder. “We’ll be right beside you. If anyone tries to hurt you, they’ll be very sorry. You know what I’m capable of.”

“You can’t take on a whole town,” she said.

“I have before,” I said.

“I don’t speak Nuru very well,” Luyu said.

“They assume you’re ignorant anyway,” I said. “You’ll be okay.”

We stood up together. Mwita gave Luyu a kiss on the cheek.

“Remember,” he said to me. “I can only do it for an hour.”

“Okay,” I said. I could hold myself ignorable for closer to three hours.

“Luyu,” he said. “After forty five minutes, find a place where we can hide.”

“Okay,” she said. “Ready?”

Mwita and I pulled our veils over our heads and settled ourselves. I watched as Mwita became hard to see. To look at someone who is ignorable is to feel your eyes grow painfully dry to the point of blurriness. You have to look away and you don’t want to look back. Mwita and I wouldn’t be able to look at each other.

We stepped onto the road and it felt like being sucked into a beast’s belly. Durfa was such a fast town. I understand why it was the center of Nuru culture and society. The people of Durfa were hardworking and lively. Of course, much of this was to the credit of the Okeke who flooded in each morning from Okeke villages, Okeke who did all the work the Nuru did not want and felt they didn’t have to do.

But things were changing. A revolution was happening. The Nuru were learning to survive on their own… after the Okeke had put them in a place comfortable enough to do so. All the ugliness was on the outskirts of the Seven Rivers Kingdom and Durfa people especially were indifferent to it. Though the genocide was happening mere miles away, these people were far removed. The most they saw was that there were significantly fewer Okeke.

It started before Luyu even made it to the first of the town’s buildings. She was walking alongside the road when a fat bald Nuru man slapped her on the backside and said, “Go to my house.” He pointed behind her. “That one just down the street there where that man is standing. Cook my wife and children breakfast!”

For a moment, Luyu just stared at him. I held my breath hoping she wouldn’t slap the man in the face instead. “Yes… sir,” she finally said submissively.

He impatiently waved the back of his fat hand at her. “Well, go then, woman!” He turned and strode off. He so assumed that Luyu would do his bidding that he didn’t notice when Luyu kept right on going. She walked faster. “Best if I look as if I have somewhere to go,” she said aloud.

“Help me with this,” a woman said, roughly grabbing Luyu’s arm, and this time Luyu was stuck helping a woman carry her textiles to a nearby market. She was a tall lanky Nuru woman with long black hair that crept down her back. She wore a rapa and matching top like Luyu except hers was the bright yellow of an outfit only worn once. Luyu carried the heavy bolts of cloth on her back. This at least got us safely and quietly into Durfa.

“Fine day, eh?” the woman asked, as they walked.

Luyu grunted vague assent. After that, it was as if Luyu weren’t there. The woman greeted several people on the way, all of them well dressed and none of whom acknowledged Luyu’s presence. When the woman wasn’t talking to people in passing, she talked away on a black square-shaped device that she held to her mouth. It made a lot of staticky noise between when she or the other person spoke.

I learned that this woman’s neighbor’s daughter was the target of an “honor killing” to appease the family of a man the girl’s older brother had stolen from. “What has the General made us into?” the woman asked, shaking her head. “The man goes too far.” I also learned that the price of okada scooter fuel made from corn was going down and fuel made from sugar cane was going up. Imagine that? And that the woman had a bad knee, adored her granddaughter, and was a second wife. The woman could talk.