The Book of Phoenix by Nnedi Okorafor

Author:Nnedi Okorafor
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: DAW
Published: 2015-04-15T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 11

Return

I came back.

Mind.

Wings.

And other flesh.

Under the blue sky. In the city.

This time it is different. I will be different. I am different. I was different. You must know that by now. You’ve watched me, heard me. I speak my life into existence with each expressed breath I take. I tell you a story within which are more stories. Universes within universes. We are all spinning like small suns. I am like my own sun.

I could feel my lips. “Praise Ani,” I breathed, for Mmuo’s story was on the tip of my mind when I finally found I could speak. Mmuo laughed loudly. I blinked as I looked at him. It was the first time I’d ever seen him wearing clothes. He wore white pants, leather sandals, and a beaded necklace. This was a lot for a man who never wore clothes at all. He looked different.

“What is Ani?” Saeed asked, frowning, as he grasped my hand. He must have wondered if I’d lost my mind.

“She’s the goddess of the land,” Mmuo said. “I spoke of her to Phoenix while she was recovering. I guess Phoenix heard me.” He looked at me knowingly. “Good.”

“She’s the sister of the Author of All Things,” I said to Saeed. Then I smiled. I was weak but I felt so good. The air was fresh and I inhaled it deeply.

Saeed helped me up. My muscles worked and my skin prickled, absorbing the sunshine. Mmuo averted his eyes from my nakedness. Saeed didn’t. His eyes swept from my body to my wings. “When they made you,” he whispered. “Something good was touching their minds.”

I smiled, basking in his gaze.

“When they made you, planets must have aligned,” he said. “When they made you, they made one of a kind.”

Saeed, always the artist. Maybe he’d draw me next. I looked up, through the trees, at the sun. I shut my eyes and was happy. Absolutely, completely happy.

Saeed gave me a small jar of yellow raw shea butter. “Thank you,” I whispered. I coated my skin with it, the nutty smell reminding me simultaneously of my happier days in Tower 7 and my happiest days in Wulugu, Ghana. The dress Saeed gave me was yellow and the back was open for my wings. It wasn’t heat resistant. It fit perfectly. Then he handed me the black burka. I looked at it, perturbed, as I stood tall in my dress. Then I looked back at the sun, and then back at it. Thick, black, rough. I put it on. I was the veiled hunchback, again. This time on a different continent. But I had plans. We had plans. The first was to get out of there before the Big Eye spotted us.

Mmuo reluctantly shrugged a t-shirt over his lean muscular chest. “We leave these walls and enter barbarism,” he said.

• • •

It was broad daylight and I could see the tall tall buildings clearly. We had to walk several blocks to get to Mmuo’s car and as we walked, I held Saeed’s hand and gazed up.

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