(eng) Nnedi Okorafor - SSC by Kabu Kabu

Author:Kabu Kabu [Kabu, Kabu]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Long Juju Man

In my village, everyone knows that there are ghosts.

We treat them like anyone or anything else; nothing new. But that day I walked down the path to my auntie’s house to deliver a basketful of eggs was different. I was only nine years old.

My auntie lived a few minutes away, if I took the shortcut through the forest. I always chose to go this way because I liked the feeling of being alone with all the tall trees, chirping and cackling birds, and buzzing insects. Oftentimes if I walked quietly, I’d glimpse a curious monkey high in the trees.

This particular day was warm and there was a breeze in the treetops that went shhhhhhh as it passed through the leaves. I was in a wonderful mood. I didn’t have a care in the world. I should have known something was off when I heard the owl hoot three times and saw a blue butterfly flutter by. Owls only hoot at night, and if a blue butterfly crosses your path it means something’s about to happen—at least that’s what my mother always says.

I’m a tiny woman. Back then I was an even tinier girl. However, my legs could move me fast as a terrified gazelle. And where I was short, I was tall in words. But still when I came across the wild mango tree heavy with rotting mangos, I was shocked into silence.

Right there, under the tree, picking the most rotten mangos was a ghost. And not just any ghost, either. It was the infamous Long Juju Man, himself! How frightening he was with long black beard, tall lanky body, and skin so brown it was the color of midnight. I stood there in shock. He hadn’t seen me yet. When the wind blew, he would lose his shape, becoming solid again when it stopped.

Everything about him was blue like the ocean on a clear day. He wore a blue caftan that reached his knobby ankles and he was encircled by a soft blue aura. Wherever he stepped, he left a blue footprint that quickly melted away. He was stooping down, gathering the most rotted mangos. Everyone in my village knows that ghosts like to eat rotten fruit, for rotten fruits are beautifully sweet to the deceased.

He smelled strongly of red pepper. Even from where I stood, frozen with fear, I could smell him. My grandfather always said that Long Juju Man was a spicy man when he was alive. On moonlit nights, grandfather used to gather all the children. We would sit outside on the ground at his feet, my grandfather in his favorite chair. He would tell us stories that took us into the past and sometimes into the future. We loved to hear the story of Long Juju Man.

“Fifty years ago,” my grandfather said, “Long Juju Man was the most talented sorcerer in the village. He could turn lead to gold, goat feces to blue butterflies; he loved blue butterflies. He could cure even the nastiest diseases.

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