“Binti.”
“Mama.”
It sounded like we said it at the same time but there probably was some sort of digital lag because of the distance.
“You made it.”
“I did.” I was weeping.
“Good.”
I told her everything. Every detail. Every fear. Every triumph. Everything except about what the sting had done. She listened and gasped with surprise and shock and laughed a few times and listened some more. She told me I was foolish and wise and that I owed her so much because I knew how much I’d hurt her, hurt everyone. Yet my mother still understood. And she reveled in the fact that I was her child. Papa had refused to speak with me this day. And that was like him. I told myself, maybe next time I reach out he’ll be the one to respond. I missed my family.
If I were surrounded by family, these first few weeks on Oomza Uni would have been better. I’d have still been tormented, but not so much. But I was there without any of them and the only family I had was often the source of my terror. During nights, I still relived my time on the ship over and over until all that I focused on was fear and… “What if Okwu…?”.
This night, as I so often did, I eventually rolled over, picked up my edan from the shelf beside my bed and held it to my chest like a talisman. I stayed this way all night. I didn’t sleep.
At second morning, I had individual study with Professor Okpala. This would be our fourth session and I was looking forward to it, despite my lack of sleep. I went to see Okwu first as was my routine. It came out of its dorm as I walked up the path.
“Binti,” Okwu said. “You look tired.”
“I didn’t sleep well. I kept…” I looked directly at it. In the sunlight of the second sun, Okwu’s translucent blue dome shined like something underwater. “I kept thinking about the ship. And what your people did to everyone onboard except me and the pilot.” And the fact that maybe you yourself killed Heru, I thought.
“It was war,” Okwu said. “You should strengthen yourself with that knowledge. In war there’s death.”
I frowned at it, sensing that Okwu felt more than its words. Ever since I’d been stung and changed, it was this way. Okwu thought about what happened, too. It wondered. Things didn’t sit well for Okwu, even if it didn’t feel any guilt or terror over those Third Fish memories.
It began to move and I followed it. “Have you eaten?” it asked.
“I have. Have you?”
“I won’t until after class today. My mind is sharper when I want to eat.”
We were walking toward the shuttle station.
“Have you spoken with your mother, again?” Okwu asked. “You are better when you do.”
“I will,” I said.
“What of Heru’s brother? Has he left you alone?” It thrummed softly.
I looked at my feet. Heru’s younger brother Jabari had contacted me days after that terrible call from Heru’s parents. Talking to Jabari was even worse and still I had not disconnected. He’d demanded I recount every detail of his brother’s death, having not a care for my own feelings. “No,” I said glumly. “Not since that call.”
“That’s good,” it said. “Talking to him is useless.”
We stopped on the walkway and looked over the bridge. This walkway that ran over rushing waters that emptied into a strange sea some miles away was a favorite spot of ours. We came here every morning and we often met here. I inhaled the rush of wind that blew both my and Okwu’s okuoko. Okwu breathed out a burst of gas and I exhaled.
“Whoo!” Grinning, I spread my arms out as I faced the edge of the walkway that dropped down to the rushing water. “I’m awake now!” I exhaled and inhaled again, my eyes closed imagining myself leaping from the walkway toward the water, but then swooping over it as I then flew into the sky, up up into space. My good mood shifted a shade darker. I slowly turned to Okwu and said the first thing on my mind, “Sometimes, I hear you speak and your voice still sounds rough.”
After a moment, Okwu replied, “Sometimes I wonder why your voice sounds so smooth to me.”
“Oh,” I said. “Is that bad?”
“I prefer my language.”
I chuckled.
Okwu floated to the edge of the walkway and then hovered in the air over the edge, its okuoko dangling in midair. A strong breeze blew Okwu upward and then it slowly floated back to my level, still hovering over the drop. It returned to the walkway, its dome thrumming with pleasure.
We stayed there for a bit, standing side-by-side watching the water rush by. The air was so fresh; we both loved coming here. There was movement, but the area stayed the same and once in a while, there would be a procession of yellow fishlike creatures who were longer than the Root back home and slender like pipes. In the turquoise blue waters, you could see them perfectly wiggling like giant ribbons with large flat heads and big bulbous red eyes. I really loved them.
“Let’s go to class,” I said.
Okwu had a class in Math City so we walked together most of the way. We came to the building where its class was held and it was there that we parted ways. Professor Okpala’s office was only a few minutes’ walk away, at the center of Math City. I watched Okwu float off toward its building. Then I grasped the strap of my red leather satchel and pulled it closer to me. The straps and other parts of it were already caked with my otjize; no one would ever mistake my things for someone else’s. As I walked, I could feel my edan in the pocket of my long red skirt. “I am Binti Ekeopara Zuzu Dambu Kaipka of Namib,” I whispered to myself.
I walked along the wide street, staying close to the spiraling, coiling, hexagonal glass and cuticle buildings of Math City. A swift transport shuttle zipped through the center of the street, avoiding People who also moved in various ways down the middle of the street. On average, I was quite small compared to most of those around me and I was usually the only humanoid, let alone human. This was why I kept close to the buildings. Haifa had described human walking as “inefficient motion” and compared to almost everyone else, this was fairly accurate. Walking always seemed so slow and graceless compared to all the gliding, zipping, tumbling, creeping, flying, and porting.
Back home, the closest there was to even one of the streets in Math City was the weekend market where everyone was Himba and a few minutes’ walk away was open empty desert. As I walked, People stared at me, some talked about me in various languages I didn’t have to understand to understand. It wasn’t in my head. When I walked down the street, everyone noticed in some way.
“I am Binti Ekeopara Zuzu Dambu Kaipka of Namib,” I repeated to myself. But I refused to tree. No one was going to scare me into the tree. I scurried across the busy street, leaping around what looked like a Night Masquerade… at least this is what I heard they looked like. The Night Masquerade was a mythical creature in Himba culture that only men and boys could see.
“Hello, Himba hero Binti,” it said in Meduse, as it strode past me with its long stick-like body. Every move it made was accompanied by the sound of cracking and snapping.
“Greetings,” I said over my shoulder. I giggled to myself, knowing there was no way it could be a Night Masquerade. I quickly moved on.
Math City was a grid of hexagons and Professor Okpala’s office was at its center in one of the five spiral towers. It was at the very top and I loved going up there. Her office had no walls, so the entire space was open to the elements. It didn’t rain much in Math City and the temperature for this time of the year hovered around ninety degrees and this was ideal for a desert girl like me.