“Don’t,” he said.
“Let him reject me to my face,” I said.
Anger flashed in Mwita’s eyes and he stepped back from me. “I shouldn’t love a girl like you,” he said quietly through gritted teeth. Then he turned and walked away.
I waited until Mwita was far enough away. Then I stepped to the side of the road and concentrated. I didn’t have the feather with me, so I had to calm myself first. The argument with Mwita left me shaking with emotion so it took several minutes to calm myself. By this time, Mwita was gone. But as I said, as a vulture, the world was open to me. I found him easily.
I followed him south from my house, through the palm tree farms at Jwahir’s southern border. The hut he came to was sturdy but simple. Four goats roamed around it. Mwita went into a smaller hut beside the main one. Behind both huts opened the desert.
The next day, I walked there on foot, leaving my bedroom window open in case I returned as a vulture. A gate of cacti grew in front of Aro’s hut. I boldly walked through the opening that was flanked by two tall cacti. I tried to avoid the thorns but one of them nicked my arm as I passed. No matter, I thought.
The main hut was large, made of stacked sand brick and adobe with a thatched roof. I could see Mwita nearby sitting against the only tree bold enough to grow near the hut. I smiled slyly to myself. If this was Aro’s hut, I could sneak in before Mwita saw me.
A man strolled out before I could get halfway to the hut entrance. The first thing I noticed was the blue mist surrounding him. It disappeared as he came closer. He was about two decades older than my father. His head was closely shaved. His dark skin glistened in the dry heat. Several glass and quartz amulets rested over his white caftan. He walked slowly, looking me over. I didn’t like him at all.
“What?” he said.
“Oh, um …” I stammered. “Are you Aro, the sorcerer?”
He glared at me.
I pushed on. “My name is Onyesonwu Ubaid-Ogundimu, daughter … stepdaughter of Fadil Ogundimu, daughter of Najeeba Ubaid-Ogundimu …”
“I know who you are,” he said coolly. He brought a chewing stick from his pocket and stuck it in his mouth. “You’re the girl the Ada says can become transparent and Mwita says can change into a sparrow.”
I noticed he didn’t mention me turning into a vulture.
“Things have been happening to me, yes,” I said. “And I think I’m in danger. Something tried to kill me once, a year or so ago. This great oval red eye. It continues to watch me, I think. I need to protect myself. Oga Aro, I will become the best and greatest student you will ever have! I know it. I can feel it. I can … almost touch it.”
I stopped talking, tears in my eyes. I didn’t realize how determined I was until now. He was looking at me with such surprise that I wondered if I’d said something wrong. He didn’t seem the type easily moved. His face returned to what I assumed was his usual demeanor. Behind him I saw Mwita coming, walking fast.
“You’re full of fire,” he said. “But I won’t teach you.” He motioned with his hand up and down, in reference to my body. “Your father was Nuru, a foul dirty people. The Great Mystic Points are an Okeke art only for the pure of spirit.”
“B-but you teach Mwita,” I said working hard to control my despair.
“Not the Mystic Points. What I teach him is limited. He’s male. You’re female. You can’t measure up. Even in … the gentler skills.”
“How can you say that?” I shouted, my diamond almost flying from my mouth.
“And furthermore, you’re filthy with woman blood as we speak,” he said. “How dare you come here in this state.”
I only blinked, not knowing what he was talking about. Later I would realize he was referring to the fact that I was having my monthly. I had about a day to go, shedding mere drops of blood. He’d spoken as if I were awash in it.
He pointed at my waist, disgusted, “And that is only for your husband to see.”
Again I was confused. Then I looked down and saw a glint of my belly chain hanging over my rapa. I quickly tucked it away.
“Let what haunts you do away with you. It’s better that way,” he said.
“Please,” Mwita said, walking up. “Don’t insult her, Oga. She’s dear to me.”
“Yes, you all stick together, I know,” Aro said.
“I didn’t tell her to come!” Mwita said firmly to Aro. “She listens to no one.”
I stared at Mwita, astonished and insulted.
“I don’t care who sent her,” Aro said with a wave of his big hand.
Mwita looked down and I could have screamed. He’s like Aro’s slave, I thought. Like an Okeke to a Nuru. But he was raised a Nuru. How backward!
Aro walked away. I quickly turned and walked back toward the cactus gate.
“You brought this on yourself,” Mwita growled, following me. “I told you not …”
“You didn’t tell me anything,” I said. I walked faster. “You live with him! He thinks that of people like us and you STAY IN HIS HOME! I’ll bet you cook and clean for him! I’m surprised he even eats what you prepare!”
“It’s not like that,” Mwita said.
“It is!” I cried. We were through the cactus gate. “It’s not bad enough that I’m Ewu and that that thing wants to get me! I had to be female too. That crazy man you live with loves and hates you but he just hates me! Everyone hates me!”
“Your parents and I don’t hate you,” he said. “Your friends don’t hate you.”
I wasn’t listening to him. I was running. I ran until I was sure he wasn’t following me. I dug up the memory of oily black feathers covering mighty wings, a powerful beak, a head carrying a brain that was intelligent in ways that only I and probably that goat’s penis Aro understood. I flew high and far, thinking and thinking. And when I finally got home, I hopped through my bedroom window and changed myself to the thirteen-soon to be fourteen-year-old girl I was. I crawled naked into bed, drops of blood and all, and pulled the covers over myself.
I STOPPED SPEAKING TO MWITA and he stopped coming to see me. Three weeks passed. I missed him but my fury toward him was stronger. Binta, Luyu, and Diti filled my extra time. One morning, while sulking in the schoolyard waiting for them, Luyu walked right past me. At first I thought she just hadn’t seen me. Then I noticed she looked distraught. Her eyes were red and puffy, as if she’d been crying or hadn’t gotten any sleep. I ran after her.
“Luyu?” I said. “Are you okay?”
She turned to me, her face blank. Then she smiled, looking more like herself.
“You look … tired,” I said.
She laughed. “You’re right. I slept terribly.” Luyu and her loaded statements. This was definitely one of them. But I knew Luyu. When she wanted to tell you something, she told you in her own time. Binta and Diti came and Luyu moved away from me as the four of us sat down.
“It’s a lovely day,” Diti said.
“If you say so,” Luyu grumbled.
“I wish I could be as happy as you always are, Diti,” I said.
“You’re