Who Fears Death. Ннеди Окорафор

could see right through you.”

      “It only happened for a few seconds. Everyone was shocked but they didn’t let go of you,” Binta said. She touched her lip and winced.

      I pulled my veil closer to my face.

      “Has someone cursed you?” Luyu asked. “Maybe because you’re …”

      “I don’t know,” I quickly said.

      We went our separate ways when we got to the road. Sneaking back into my room was easy enough. As I settled into my bed, I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was still watching me.

      The next morning, I pushed the covers off my legs and found that I’d bled through the gauze onto my bed. I’d started my monthly cycle a year ago, so the sight didn’t bother me much. But the blood loss left me light-headed. I wrapped myself in my rapa and slowly walked into the kitchen. My parents were laughing at something Papa had said.

      “Good morning, Onyesonwu,” Papa said, still chuckling.

      My mother’s smile melted when she saw my face. “What’s wrong?” she asked in her whispery voice.

      “I-I’m all right,” I said, not wanting to move from where I stood. “I just …”

      I could feel the blood running down my leg. I needed fresh gauze. And some willow leaf tea for the pain. And something for the nausea, I thought just before I threw up all over the floor. My parents rushed over and helped me into a chair. They saw the blood when I sat down. My mother quietly left the room. Papa wiped the vomit on my lips with his hand. My mother returned with a towel.

      “Onyesonwu, is it your monthly?” she asked, wiping my leg. I stopped her hand when she got to my upper thigh.

      “No, Mama,” I said, looking into her eyes. “It’s not that.”

      Papa frowned. My mother was looking intensely at me. I braced myself. She slowly stood up. I didn’t dare move when she slapped me hard across the face, my diamond stone almost flying from my mouth.

      “Ah ah, wife!” Papa exclaimed, grabbing her hand. “Stop it! The child is hurt.”

      “Why?” she asked me. Then she looked at Papa, who still held her hands from striking me again. “She did it last night. She went and got circumcised,” she said.

      Papa looked at me shocked, but I also saw awe. The same look he’d given me when he saw me up in that tree.

      “I did it for you, Mama!” I shouted.

      She tried to snatch her hands from Papa so she could slap me again. “Don’t you blame me! Stupid idiot girl!” she said, when she couldn’t pull her hands from him.

      “I’m not blaming …” I could feel blood seeping from me, faster now. “Mama, Papa, I bring shame to you,” I said, beginning to cry. “My existence is shame! Mama, I’m pain to you … since the day I was conceived.”

      “No, no,” my mother said, shaking her head vigorously. “This was not why I told you.” She looked at Papa. “See, Fadil! See why I didn’t tell her all this time?”

      Papa still held her hands, but now he looked as if he did it to hold himself up.

      “Every girl here has it done,” I said. “Papa, you’re a well-loved blacksmith. Mama, you’re his wife. You both have respect. I’m Ewu.” I paused. “To not do it would bring more shame.”

      “Onyesonwu!” Papa said. “I don’t care what people think! Haven’t you learned that by now? Eh? You should have come to us. Insecurity is no reason to have it done!”

      My heart ached but I still believed I’d made the right choice. He may have accepted my mother and me for what we were, but we didn’t live in a vacuum.

      “In my village, no woman was expected to be cut like that,” my mother hissed. “What kind of barbaric …” She turned away from me. It was already done. She clapped her hands together and said. “My own daughter!” She rubbed her forehead as if doing so would smooth out her frown. She took my arm, “Get up.”

      I didn’t go to school that day. Instead my mother helped me clean and pack my wound with fresh gauze. She made me a pain-relieving tea with willow leaves and sweet cactus pulp. All day, I lay in bed, reading. My mother took the day off to sit beside my bed, which made me a little uncomfortable. I didn’t want her to see what I was reading. The day after my mother told me the story of my conception, I’d gone to the book house. Surprisingly, I found what I was looking for, a book on the Nuru language, the language of my biological father. I was teaching myself the basics. This would have seriously enraged my mother. So as she sat beside my bed, I hid the book inside another book as I read it.

      All day, she stayed in that chair, unmoving, only getting up for brief meals or to relieve herself. Once, she went into her garden to Hold Conversation with Ani. I wondered what she told the Almighty and All-knowing Goddess. After all that had happened to her, I wondered what kind of relationship my mother could possibly have with Ani.

      When my mother returned, as I read my Nuru language book and rolled my stone in my mouth, I wondered what she thought about as she sat there staring at the wall.

       Chapter 5

       The One Who is Calling

      NONE OF THEM TOLD ANYONE. That was the first sign that our Eleventh Rite bond was true. And thus when I returned to school a week later, no one harassed me. All people knew was that I was now both adult and child. I was ana m-bobi. They had to at least give me that respect. Of course, we didn’t say a word about Binta’s sexual abuse, either. She later told us that the day after our rite, her father had to meet with the Osugbo elders.

      “When he came home, afterwards, he looked … broken,” Binta said. “I think they whipped him.” They should have done more than that. Even back then I thought so. Binta’s mother was also brought before the elders. Both of her parents were ordered to receive counseling from the Ada for three years, as were Binta and her siblings.

      As my friendship with Binta, Luyu, and Diti bloomed, something else started. It began indirectly my second day back at school. I leaned against the school building as students around me played soccer and socialized. I was still sore but healing fast.

      “Onyesonwu!” someone called. I jumped and nervously turned around, images of that red eye popping into my head. Luyu laughed as she and Binta slowly walked over to me. For a brief moment, we stared at each other. There was so much in that moment: judgment, fear, uncertainty.

      “Good morning,” I finally said.

      “Good morning,” Binta said, stepping forward to shake and release my hand with a snap between our fingers. “You just back today? We are.”

      “No,” I said. “I came back yesterday.”

      “You look well,” Luyu said, also giving me the friendship handshake.

      “You too,” I said.

      There was an awkward pause. Then Binta said, “Everyone knows.”

      “Eh?” I said too loudly. “Knows? Knows what?”

      “That we’re ana m-bobi,” Luyu said proudly. “And that none of us screamed.”

      “Oh,” I said, relieved. “Where’s Diti?”

      “Hasn’t left bed since that night,” Luyu said with a laugh. “She’s such a weakling.”

      “No, she’s just taking advantage of missing school,” Binta said. “Diti knows she’s too pretty to need school, anyway.”

      “Must