She just stared at him. Instead of getting annoyed, he smiled. It was the brightest, warmest smile she’d ever seen, and she couldn’t help smiling back. He handed her a yellow handkerchief. “Thanks,” she said, looking at it. “Are you sure, I-”
He gave her the beautiful smile again and said, “My gift to you.”
She blew her nose into it and looked up at him. She figured she owed him some sort of explanation, but all she could say was, “I-I’m a free agent.” She felt so stupid.
“Oh, I see,” he said, understandingly. He put his arms behind his back and looked at the field. She followed his eyes, straightening up and putting her hands behind her back, too. He just had this aura about him that said, “Whatever I do is good.”
“I found out only months ago,” she said. “My teacher brought me here with my other, um, classmates.”
“Who’s your teacher?” he asked.
“Anatov,” she said. “The Defender of Frogs and All Things Natural.”
“He still uses that title?” He laughed. “Brother Anatov earned it years ago when he first came to Nigeria from America. The man went on and on about being a vegetarian and how frogs were the thermometers of the Earth. I know him well. Good man,” he said. “You’re from Leopard Knocks, then.”
She nodded.
“Well, let me tell you this,” he said. “You’re neck-deep in Leopard society right now. The good thing is that it doesn’t get any deeper than this. Sometimes it’s best to just jump in. Then, after that first shock, you can handle anything.”
“Yeah,” she said, wiping her eyes again. “I-I got my juju knife today, too.”
“That’s wonderful,” he said. He looked down at her. “Use it well and true. There are more valuable things in life than safety and comfort. Learn. You owe it to yourself. All this”-he motioned around them-“you’ll get used to in time.”
He patted her on the head and walked away. She held the handkerchief to her chest. Only when she turned around did she realize a crowd had gathered to watch them.
They had really good seats for the match.
Within the hour, the open field was filled with rows and rows of folding chairs. There was a large area in the center for the match. Within minutes, the chairs were all taken. It looked like everyone at the festival was here.
They sat in a special section in the left front specifically for the scholars and their chosen students. On the way to their seats, Anatov introduced them to Madame Koto. He had described her perfectly. In height, she easily rivaled the man that she’d spoken with. But where he was stick-thin, Madame Koto was very, very fat. She was surrounded by three very attractive men, each wearing an expensive designer suit and a smug smile. They treated Madame Koto like their queen.
Madame Koto looked down at the four of them and haughtily said, “It’s good to meet you.” Then she made for her seat with her three men in tow. Two boys and two girls, presumably her students, also followed. They looked at Sunny, Chichi, Sasha, and Orlu with great interest, but Madame Koto didn’t introduce them.
Sugar Cream was there, too, sitting with a group of very old men near the back of the special section. They were having an animated discussion and didn’t seem interested in the wrestling match at all. They stopped talking when Anatov brought Sunny, Chichi, Sasha, and Orlu to say, “Hi.” The old men didn’t return the greeting, instead staring at the four of them like they had sprouted wings.
Today Sugar Cream wore a long, silky, European-style cream-colored dress and several cream-colored bangles that clacked whenever she moved her arms. “Chichi, Sasha, Orlu. It’s wonderful to finally meet you.” She only gave Sunny a stern look before moving on. Sunny felt like a dirty dishrag.
The old men finally broke out of their staring trance and introduced themselves. Sugar Cream had to translate. They were from the Ivory Coast and Liberia.
“How many languages does Sugar Cream speak?” Sasha asked Anatov as they sat down.
“At least ten,” Anatov said. “Probably more.”
“What about you?”
“Who knows?” Anatov said. “Who’s counting?”
“Where are Taiwo and Kehinde?” Sunny asked.
“Home, of course,” Anatov said. “Someone had to hold down the fort.”
There were several other students with their teachers, some Sunny’s age, most older. One boy, the student of a scholar from Ghana, knew Chichi and Orlu.
“Long time,” he said.
“Not long enough,” Chichi said.
“I’ll best you tonight,” the boy said, pointing at her.
“You’ll have to try, you know. Talking’s nothing,” Chichi said playfully, but Sunny detected a real threat behind her words. “Oh. These are my new classmates, Sunny and Sasha. You know Orlu. Sunny, Sasha-this, unfortunately, is Yao.”
Yao and Sasha looked each other up and down. Instant tension there, Sunny thought. “Isn’t Sasha a girl’s name?” Yao asked with a smirk.
“Do I know you?” Sasha asked. “Because you obviously don’t know me.”
“Ah, American,” Yao said.
“Can’t you tell, jackass?” Sasha said.
“All right, enough of that,” Anatov said, pushing Yao toward his teacher. “Save that for the social tonight.”
“Who the hell is that?” Sasha asked Chichi, still shocked at Yao’s nerve.
“He’s the one I told you about,” Chichi said. “You know what we discussed.”
“Oh, I see,” Sasha said. “A’ight, later then.” Chichi nodded.
“What’d you guys discuss?” Orlu asked. Chichi and Sasha just laughed. “Ugh. This is going to get crazy. I can feel it.”
A regal woman briskly walked onto the field. She brought out her juju knife and Sunny nearly screamed with horror as she dragged it across her throat. Then she remembered where she was. There was no blood, not even a cut.
“My name is Mballa and I will be your commentator this fine day,” the woman said in a highly amplified voice. “Welcome to the two hundred and forty-sixth annual Zuma International Wrestling Finals. Make sure to note our sponsors, who have worked sponsorship jujus on your seats. Remember their names when you go to our vendors to ease that mysterious craving. Special thanks, of course, to Abuja’s own Madame Koto and Ibrahim Ahmed for making all this happen.
“Now we all know that this year’s finalists have come a long way to get here. Fifty undefeated victories each, and both have passed the seven Obi Library tasks. These are two truly gifted men, o!”
The entire audience recited the next thing she said. “This is the final test of brains and brawn, so let them show and prove!” Everyone burst into applause, howls, and cheers. People stamped their feet and pumped their fists in the air. Then the drumming began. Sunny looked around. She didn’t see anyone with drums.
“These two warriors are the greatest West Africa has to offer,” Mballa said dramatically. “Kind, generous, loving, loyal, both of these men would give their lives for Africa without a thought. Both of these men know when one must stand up and fight. They are what Western society fears most.
“On this side, from the country of Burkina Faso, comes Saaaaaayé!”
The crowd burst into noise as Sayé, a brawny brownskinned man of about forty, jogged and bounced around the arena. Orlu leaned toward Sunny’s ear and said, “You see that leather sleeve he’s wearing?”
She nodded.
“When he was young, he was hit by a car and his arm had to be amputated.”
“So his arm is fake?” she asked.
“It’s more complicated than that,” Orlu said. “He was born with this… weird ability that was only discovered when the accident happened.”
“On this side,” the commentator continued, “from the country of Mali, comes Miiiikniiiikstiiiic!”
The crowd shouted again as a very, very tall black man ran in. Sunny recognized him-he was the man she’d talked to an hour ago. No wonder a crowd had been gathering!