Over the next few days, when she wasn’t in school or doing homework, she was reading Fast Facts. No time for television. She focused most on Chapter Eight: Very Basic Beginner Juju. It was the juju called “Etuk Nwan” that most interested her. If she could get it to work, she would be able to leave the house for Saturday night’s meeting with Anatov. There were only four ingredients, and most of them were easy enough to collect: chamomile leaves, palm oil, some rainwater. It was the fourth that she was worried about.
The day before the big night, she stood in the sunny market with her black umbrella. She no longer needed it, but she didn’t want to draw the wrong kind of attention. “Excuse me, Miss,” Sunny said to the meat seller. “I’d like-I’d like to buy a sheep’s head.”
Her father was very fond of nkowbi, which was stew made with goat’s brain. Lots of people were, so she wasn’t doing anything unusual. And she had enough money saved up. The woman put the black sheep’s head on a piece of newspaper and wrapped it up with more newspaper.
Sunny couldn’t think of any other way to ask, so she just asked. “Is that… my, uh, father told me to make sure it was an ebett, a-a ‘sleeping antelope sheep.’” She knew her face was red with embarrassment.
“Eh?” the woman said, frowning. “What are you talking about?”
Suddenly, Sunny was very aware of her albinism. What must she have looked like, all bleached-looking and asking for something that sounded straight out of a black magic cookbook? “Oh, nothing. This-this is fine,” she said. She hoped it would be.
She got home before her parents. She had to move fast. They’d be home within the hour. Her brothers were out playing soccer. Thank goodness, she thought. Perfect. She ran to the kitchen with her package and placed it on the kitchen counter.
“Just do it,” she said to herself, rubbing her hands nervously against her shorts. “The faster, the less time to think about it.” Easier said than done. The mere thought of the sheep’s head nauseated her. She didn’t know how her father could eat goat brains or how her mother could prepare them. She took a deep breath, then, as fast as she could, unwrapped the package.
The head was black, the wool on its face a deeper black. It looked like one of her mother’s wigs. She felt another wave of nausea. Even worse, its eyes were glassy and dry. Its mouth was open, its pink-purple tongue lolling out to the side. Its yellow teeth would never chew grass again; its mouth would never be warmed by its breath.
This couldn’t be a “sleeping antelope sheep.” In the book, it said the face of a “sleeping antelope sheep” would look peacefully asleep in death. This one looked as if it had died in horror.
“Well,” she breathed. “Work with what you have.”
She had no idea how she would get out of the house if the juju didn’t work. Her brothers tended to play video games or watch movies well past midnight, even on school nights. The slightest noise brought her mother peeking into her room. If she were caught, her father would happily flog her; he’d certainly been looking for a reason lto ately. She needed this juju to work.
She grabbed a paring knife, paused, then gritted her teeth. She started scraping and cutting and gouging. The book said to use the skull, nothing else. She had to remove all the meat on and inside the skull.
Biology, she thought as she worked, breathing through her mouth. She didn’t want to smell the raw flesh. Think of biology class. She enjoyed biology, eagerly taking in the readings about microorganisms, animal systems, vertebrates, and invertebrates. Still, at the moment, she found that the less she thought about the fact that this had been a living, breathing, pooing, baaing, eating thing, the better.
It took her a half hour to remove all the hair, skin, brains, and muscle. All she needed now was to rinse it well and let it dry until nighttime. She heard her brothers outside. She cursed. The counter was a mess.
She quickly rewrapped the skull. Any moment, her brothers would burst in looking for something to eat. It was always the first thing they did when they came in. She grabbed a bunch of greens, onions, tomatoes, peppers, and spices from the fridge and threw them on the counter in front of the pile of flesh. She was taking out some dried fish when they entered.
“Afternoon,” Chukwu muttered, pushing her aside. Ugonna punched her shoulder. Neither even glanced at the counter. She smiled. Her dumb brothers never cooked. She didn’t think they even knew how! A human being who needs food to live but cannot prepare that food to eat? Pathetic. In this case, it was an advantage. They weren’t interested in any food until it had been cooked for them.
“Were you playing soccer?” she asked. They took out bottles of Fanta and a bag of chin chin.
“Yeah,” Chukwu said, wiping sweat from his face.
“We won,” Ugonna said.
“That’s good,” she said, leaning against the counter, shielding the wrapped skull and mess.
“You heard the latest news?” Ugonna asked.
She frowned and shook her head. “Black Hat got some kid in Aba.”
“What?” Aba was only a few minutes’ walk away.
“Yeah,” Chukwu said. “So don’t go out alone. If you want to go to the market, let us know.”
After they left, as soon as she heard the sound of the television, she collected herself and rinsed off the skull. She was uneasy, but determined. What better time than now to learn the Leopard ways? Some self-defense would do her good.
As she ran up the stairs to her room, she saw something red out of the corner of her eye, something weird sitting on the banister. She didn’t stop to check it out-she had to get the skull to her room. Once inside, she shut and locked the door, leaned against it, and let out a relieved breath.
The skull was still wet. It was five o’clock. Six hours and fifteen minutes before she had to meet Orlu, Sasha, and Chichi. She put the skull under her bed and picked up her purse full of chittim.
She dumped them out and counted. There were a hundred and twenty-five, including the bronze, gold, and silver ones. She put two copper and six bronze ones back into the purse and threw in her lip gloss, some tissues, a package of biscuits, pen and paper, and a few naira notes. She piled the rest of the chittim in an old rapa, tied it up, and pushed it far under her bed.
She grabbed the purse, opened the door, and peeked into the hallway. The coast was clear. She dashed outside and hid the purse behind a bush near the house gate. Then she returned to the kitchen, cleaned up the mess, and spent the next hour cooking up a spicy red stew with chicken and bits of sheep brain for her parents and brothers. Full bellies meant heavy sleep.
After dinner-which everyone, even her father, said was delicious-she took a quick shower and dressed in a pair of shorts, T-shirt, and sneakers. At ten thirty P.M., PHC took the lights and her father turned on the generator. Twenty minutes later, her brothers were playing video games and her parents had gone to bed.
It had to be done at exactly eleven o’clock. Her book said this was the most powerful hour of the night. She went over the juju charm one last time:
Etuk Nwan is very simple juju. If you can’t make this work, I feel sorry for you. Etuk Nwan will allow you to pass through standard locked doors. Make sure the door is locked.