Esi had transformed Dzidzor into a literal goddess for the orientation.

Esi had hair extensions and braided Dzidzor’s hair to mid back length. She also applied make-up on her and platforms heels and a clutch to match. When Esi finally allowed Dzidzor to look at herself in the mirror, she almost burst out into tears. This was the most beautiful she had ever looked and it had nothing to with her family; strangers nurtured her and took care of her and instead of being overjoyed, she was back to her silent depression.

“You don’t like it?” Esi asked worried that her magic hands were not magic at all. Esi had on an off-bell gown that resembled the gowns Disney princesses mostly wore. It too was made from kente cloth but hers had more reds in it than the yellows and blues and greens. Dzidzor wondered if the dress would make her feel cold but then she picked up a petticoat from her bed and draped it across her hand.

“I love it,” Dzidzor answered, berating her voice for breaking “it’s just that it reminds me of things I try hard to forget”

“There is still time” Esi rushed to her wardrobe, searching for another dress that would not trigger negative thoughts.

“No, Esi” Dzidzor walked to her and held her arm. That was the first time she had initiated physical contact with someone since she had not seen her hunter “this dress is beautiful. I do not want any other thing. It’s perfect”

Esi smiled widely and then hugged Dzidzor, who hugged her back. Dzidzor had almost forgotten the comfort of physical touch and vowed to be more amicable with Esi from that moment on. When they broke from the hug, they laughed hysterically, which startled the other occupants of the room.

“Don’t you dare cry,” Esi warned, her eyes glistening with tears “if you ruin my make-up, I will fight with you!”

They orientation was at the ground floor of the Red Hut. It was decorated from the beautifully tiled floors to the mosaic decoration on the ceiling. The normally gray walls were filled with doodles of symbols of African symbolism which gave the room an eerie atmosphere. There were also ribbons and balloons as well as name plaques on the chairs which belonged to the new students.

Dzidzor and her mates were in front of the platform where the staff, including Gloria who did not give her the time of day, of the school sat. Well-wishers and other curious people were to sit after the new students. There was also a live band who played all sorts of African songs and when they began playing high life, most of the students cheered and begun to dance to the beat, including an excited Esi and a reluctant but cheerful Dzidzor.

Soon, the ceremony began. The headmaster, Fiifa Nkosi, gave the beginning speech, speaking on the history of Wagadu as well as the purpose and goal of the institution. After the speech, he stood up from his seat, only then were they able to see his full height. He stood a little below 7 feet, at least, and wore a dashiki with black trousers with dress shoes. Framing his square and a simple face which was touched by old age, he had a big black beard and a cap with the same material as his dashiki on his head.

He called for the list of the new students and it was brought to him. The tradition was when a name was called, the student in question would walk up the platform and turn to the audience and then mention their full name and swear fealty to the protection and preservation of the spirits of their family and the school as per what they were instructed to memorize.

Dzidzor was nervous about this tradition as she wanted nothing to do with her family. During the rehearsal orientation, she walked up to a teacher standing nearby to describe her experience to them. The teacher, a woman in question, looked at her as though she had asked where the nearest drug cartel was.

“Didn’t your family bring you here?” Dzidzor answered in the negative “If it was not for your family, you would not even be here, or alive. You should be grateful for them. I do not know why you do not want them in your life, but it was probably your fault” and with that, the teacher sent her back to her group.

Dzidzor had heard this statement for a while mostly from other grownups she had told. The hunter had protected her from them most of the time and even though she was now better equipped to handle these things, she did not expect to hear it from a teacher at Wagadu. She thought it was supposed to be a center for understanding and improving the plights of students and affiliates of Wagadu. It seemed that no matter where humans were, they were going to be awful.

She was taken out of her reverie when Nkosi mentioned Esi’s name. She was greeted with applause and cheering from everyone, especially her family, who were present at the time. She was smiling and laughing and waving the whole time such that it took a whole two minutes for the crowd to settle down. Even after that her face was glowing and it was not from the makeup. When she begun to speak, the whole room went dead silent.

“My name is Esi Duah,” she begun in Twi and to Dzidzor’s surprise, the words were projected on the walls for those who did not speak the language “and I swear fealty to the spirits and gods of the fathers and mothers. I swear fealty to the gods and the spirits of Wagadu. I pray that they will guide me in my spiritual journey. I plead that they will fill me with great power and wisdom to enable me a shining light to Vodun everywhere. With this I plead. Medaase!” The sound of drums begun to fill the entire hall and the servants went out to the podium and carried her on her shoulders to her family, where her father, the esteemed chief of the Akan land blessed her loudly with fanfare, much to the amusement of everyone. When Dzidzor saw the sheer amount of support Esi got from her family and friends, she couldn’t help but feel envious of her.

How fair was this, the world, that one could have so much love and support and care, while she had nothing?

A few more children were called before Dzidzor’s name was mentioned. She had not provided a surname and so the room was buzzing with whispers. No one clapped for her, no one screamed, shouted, whistled, nothing. To the very few who knew her, she was the weird girl who never talked to anyone and was always alone, to others she was just an inconsequential person who walked up to the stage.

She turned to face the crowd, took a deep breath and begun in a clear voice,

“My name is Dzidzor. I swear fealty to the gods and spirits of Wagadu…”

“Wait!” Gloria got up from her seat, where she had remained silent until now. “Headmaster surely you cannot tolerate this. Why does this child not want to acknowledge her family? Is she so proud that she can do so?”

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Dzidzor’s heart begun to pound as the whole room begun to erupt into loud whispers and chants. Nkosi, who was standing a little far from her locked eyes with her. She could not see his expression and she thought that it could not be good.

“Thank you, Gloria, for your input” she nodded, then took her seat with a smug expression on her face “Dzidzor’s orientation will be continued at a later time” He then asked for Gloria to lead her to his office. Her displeasure was evident, as her face changed into one of surprise, and then to displeasure. The other people seemed to agree with Gloria that she should not even be given the time of day and then the crowd showed their displeasure by shouting and booing at Dzidzor, who was sure would faint.

Gloria complained the entire time, seemingly to no one in particular but to Dzidzor, about how she wanted to have a good time at the orientation and perhaps even meet Esi’s parents but instead she was being led to Nkosi’s office because of the pride of a stupid girl who would not put her head down.

Nkosi’s office was divine. The ceiling was high and the beams and the ceiling was done by a very artistic eye. The walls a mixture of various famous paintings that gave the room an intellectual and gothic feel. There were sculptures of people and animals of war and on his desk was a realistic sculpture of a sphinx. His chair and desk were made of quality wood and the polish on them made them gleam. The chair had a black leather seat of it filled with padding probably to make it more comfortable to sit on. The windows were not a traditional quadrilateral but 4 circles about half a meter in diameter which allowed fresh air and sunlight into the room. The library was behind his desk and chair and was almost ceiling high, which was pretty tall and filled completely with books. This was the most sophisticated room Dzidzor had been in in her life.

Gloria however, continued her complaining and sat in one of the quest chairs.

“Herh, sit down” Gloria rose her shrill voice till it became ugly. Dzidzor was touching the spine of the books in Nkosi’s library.

“He hasn’t told us to sit,” Dzidzor tried to match Gloria’s ugly voice with a calmer rational one “I’ll wait till he comes” Gloria did not appreciate Dzidzor’s intentions at all and marched to where she was.

“You think you’re so smart, eh?” Her voice was laced with acid “I do not care who you think you are. I do not care that your father spoiled you so much that you had the audacity to leave home and share the same house with a grown man!” Dzidzor backed away, but Gloria matched her strides “How did you do it? Some sort of love black magic, eh?” Dzidzor begun to cry “Tell me!” Gloria then grabbed Dzidzor’s hand and squeezed “No one will pamper you, you stupid child! We will break you Dzidzor and make you acceptable and then you will leave Kafui for me” Gloria’s voice had lowered to conspirational whisper “He is mine! You hear me, you stupid bitch!” and with that Gloria pushed her onto the floor where she lay into a crying heap.

Her emotions were too jumbled to make sense of what was happening or where she was at the time, all she knew was that Gloria had something to do with her hunter not visiting her. She now knew that he loved her but not Gloria and that made her bitter.

“What have you told him?” Gloria did not answer but rearranged her hair in the mirror which drove Dzidzor to anger “Don’t let me repeat myself”

“You’re so disrespectful. You have a rich family, yet my family is what you want” Dzidzor got up.

“That is where you are lying. He is not your family and he never will be”

Gloria turned to Dzidzor, her faced contorted into a mask of fury and bitterness “That is it! I am tired of you” Gloria let out her right hand and pointed her index finger at Dzidzor then began chanting “Wo be wu, you will die”

Dzidzor quickly found she couldn’t breathe as though her airway was blocked by something. Dzidzor knelt down, soundless and in pain. She begun to feel dizzy, her head feeling so light headed. She closed her eyes, expecting death.

Suddenly, her airways cleared and she heard a thump and a crash. When she was able to open her eyes, Gloria was lying on the ground in front of his desk, bleeding from her mouth. She looked at her savior; the headmaster himself.

“Are you okay?” he held out her hand to get her to her feet, she took it swaying a bit.

“I don’t know” he guided her to a seat. When Dzidzor sat, she had to tuck her legs in to prevent her foot from touching Gloria. She saw her shoes at the headmaster’s library, where Gloria had thrown her. “My shoes…”

“Don’t worry about them dear” Nkosi stayed at her side until Gloria woke up.

“The girl tried to attack me,” she said, as soon as she was fully conscious and struggled to stand “she dared to attack a staff of this great institution, who knows what this…” she stuttered as she struggled for a word that would be suitable to say before Nkosi “child will do next”

“Gloria”

“Yes headmaster” she stood up with a smug expression on her face.

“You’re fired” She moved back as though she was pushed.

She let out a surprised and frustrated grunt.

“But sir! I… I,” she stuttered “I’ve been in this school for 15 years of my life…”

“Gloria, this is not your first misdemeanor…” Nkosi raised his right hand

“You can’t do this, you son of a bitch…” Nkosi snapped his fingers, interrupting her mid-sentence and mid strike when he caused her to vanish.

Dzidzor let out a small gasp. Is Gloria dead? Where is she?

“She’s not dead,” Nkosi said, sitting in his chair “she’s in her home”

Dzidzor found herself getting more relaxed and comfortable when she realized that she would not come back anymore.

“So, tell me right now Dzidzor; why do you not want your family name?”

Dzidzor recoiled and wondered why they couldn’t just take her word for it? It’s her choice after all. Is having a family by force? She was about to give her default answer but then Nkosi had always been on her side and has been nothing but kind to her. Besides, he was her headmaster, who else would defend her in this school if not for him? After all, just because his staff are nut heads doesn’t mean he is.

She relented then told him everything. Apparently, her family name was extremely famous here and her father had done a lot for the magic community, in Wagadu and elsewhere.

“I didn’t know” she said in a small voice, tears pricking her eyes.

“I am so infuriated right now!” and he was, it showed in his face and hands. He removed his cap to show his hair that was done in dreadlocks and was conveniently tucked into his shirt. Now, his hair was visible and some over his shoulders almost waist length. “Are you sure?”

“Yes.” Dzidzor was too surprised to be angry. She could not believe that someone believed her, even sympathized with her! She must be dreaming, surely this was a dream. He let out a grunt and tapping his feet on the floor, he seemed in great thought.

“It explains a lot actually”

“Explains what?”

“Your father lost all his crops yield two years ago, and this year as well. He came to me asking for help not too long. I wondered where his good fortune had gone, now I know. You’ve not heard?” Dzidzor was too shocked to speak, so she just shook her head. “Ah! People think that the gods do not care about family, in fact they do. Any harm you do to your family will come back to bite you in a thousand-fold”

“I do not care about my family gods,” Dzidzor sat up, paranoid that he would insist that she take back her family name “or my family, or anything concerning them. Instead of punishing my father, they could have helped me. They could have saved me! How come they did not?”

Nkosi kept silent for a while, looking at her in deep thought. Unlike others, he was not angry with her, or spiteful. He seemed slightly amused and regretful.

“I do not know my child, but please sit down.” he had to coax her some more before she did “You will not take your family name, but it simply means that you will not acquire the benefits of having a family in this school…”

“I understand!” she was in tears now and shaking “Thank you! Thank you so much sir!”

“Please,” he took her hand in his “I am Nkosi, nothing more nothing less” Dzidzor nodded.

“Now, by the power vested in me as Headmaster of Wagadu, you, Dzidzor, are hereby recognized as a student of this school”

Dzidzor had never felt happier about anything in her life.