Nikki’s POV
Every time without fail, the beginning of a new school year brought anxiety to me. What will we study, who will our teachers be, will I like them, will they like me, will I like the courses? But I wouldn’t know, unless I actually went out to experience it, which made me be filled with so much anxiety that I couldn’t eat.
This time was no different.
“You look good” Mr. Bright said looking me up and down while taking his cocoa drink “Smart casual never fails”
I smiled and thanked him. The lack of a uniform took my anxiety up a notch that I woke up four hours before school to figure out what to wear. I almost gave up, my clothes strewn haphazardly about the room, looking as if a tornado had just been in my room, until I found Mike’s dress jacket. It was black lined with satin in the interior. He wore it only once to a wedding and vowed never again because it was too big for him. Now, it was snug on my bosom and a little loose on my arms and the rest of my torso, just the way I liked my clothes.
I smoothed my hands on my jeans as we sat in silence and I wondered where Mrs. Mensah was. She told me to not go to school without seeing her and her serious tone was enough incentive for me to obey her. I couldn’t find Neil either. I blushed as I remembered his lips on mine and his strong sure arms gripping me and mine returning his want.
“Happy birthday Nikita!” I jumped but relaxed soon after, it was just Mrs. Mensah.
I smiled, brighter than the sun outside as she brought out delicious looking cake, pancakes and fruit juice.
“I didn’t know it was your birthday,” Mr. Bright said with a teasing look on his face “Hey I didn’t get this for mine” he continued with mock anger when he looked away from his newspaper to look at what his wife was holding. Mrs. Mensah gave him a teasing look as she set everything down. I moved to help her when Mr. Bright told me for the hundredth time that I was a guest. “Happy birthday Nikita. How old are you?”
“I’m 14” I said a bit smugly. I could feel the pride pulsing off of me.
“That’s a good age,” he said with a wink.
As I dug into the cake and pancakes- yes at the same time- I couldn’t help but feel guilty. I was so tired from the party and related events that I didn’t prepare myself to go to the spirit realm while I slept. I did not let myself take all the blame though, he too had not been consistent to our nocturnal visits.
“Where is Neil?” I asked the couple, trying not to think about Mike.
“He went earlier. Probably to meet with his friends before classes began”
I gave a tight smile in response. He promised to walk me to class today. I wondered what changed his mind. I focused on my wonderful breakfast to ensure that the three of the two most important men in life do not prevent me from enjoying this moment. Piece of cake.
I emptied my plate and after greeting the inviting and peculiar couple, I made my way to school. I would try to forget about the gnawing anxiety in my stomach, muttering as I rode my bicycle to class, I would have fun at school today.
I was surprised at the lack of morning assembly before classes began. We just woke up, dressed and got to class, like savages. I smiled at my mental quip and got a few smiles in return as people thought I was trying to be friendly.
Others were not as unfortunate as I to having this be the first time being at Wagadu. Students embraced each other, talked fondly with each other and formed groups among themselves. I noticed a few of them showing off with their abilities; making pencils hover, changing the color of their clothes and even manipulating some elements, mostly air and fire. As a student juggled 4 balls of air, I found myself scared. This is a very dangerous situation, I thought as I backed into a wall trying to still my chest. I then remembered what the pastors at church used to say on redemption Friday, ‘Suffer not a witch to live’. Perhaps I treated my mother too harshly, I am everything the bible speaks against. Maybe she knew something I didn’t, that is why she gave my brother and I full English names, to ensure we didn’t fall into the entrapment of witchcraft. This entire place is everything feared and abhorred by the African people. The Eʋegbes, who have been subject of prejudice because of their associations with African Traditional Religion, had to prove themselves safe for association by joining numerous Religions, most Christianity and Islam. Even my people believed in God and joined his associations.
For long, I did not deem myself religious as a result of witnessing my mother make a fool of herself by believing prophets and pastors who gave her bogus prophecies in exchange for huge sums of money and the resistance of my father to such ‘ridiculous scams’, who chastised her and said things under his breath I probably was not supposed to hear. Until now, I was okay with not knowing who really controlled this world as they were not concerned in knowing me but stepping into unknown territory, filled with magic and unbelievable things, made me realize just how lost I was here. Knowing things brought more questions and destroyed knowledge I deemed fundamental. I wanted to know which side of morality I was on. I wanted to know if I was really going to hell. I could not lie to myself anymore that hell wasn’t real, because there was a spiritual realm and gods and then there was me, an initiate of one.
I wished Mike were here, Mike would’ve calmed me down and told me things that probably wouldn’t have answered all my questions, but would’ve given my roaming mind rest. I was so lost in thought that I did not notice Nkosi approaching me. A few students waved at him and fondly called his name, which jolted me from my racing thoughts. His cotton-white dreadlocks swayed as he walked towards me.
“Hello Nikita” He said warmly, his welcoming baritone doing nothing for my nerves.
“Hello sir,” I said, trying my best to keep my voice even.
“You look lost, are you sure you know the way to class?”
“Oh yes, I know. Mrs. Afua was very thorough in preparing me”
“Okay then. I just wanted to see if you were doing well. Have a good day”
“Wait!” I yelled as he turned to leave. He looked back puzzled. “I am not okay. I want to go home” I expected so many reactions, but I did not expect him to smile.
“Come, let’s sit down”. My entire body felt like lead and I forced my body to bend unto the benches that surrounded the school.
“I need you to listen to me very carefully,” Nkosi began “I am sorry”. I blinked.
“Huh? I mean, excuse me sir?”
“Normally, new students are sent through orientations, especially ones whose parents were Anfas. This can be very overwhelming for grown men, how much more children. So once again, I am sorry”
“Oh, you’re welcome? Why wasn’t I given an orientation?” when he began to look guarded, I knew the answer immediately “the council? But why?”
“You are an initiate, there is no protocol for a Level 5 14-year-old”
“I-I never asked for this I want to go home, I want Mike” I looked away so he wont see the tears in my eyes.
“Who is Mike?”
“My twin brother”
“Oh, why were you separated?”
“The will of the gods” Nkosi offered me his handkerchief but I declined politely, taking a tissue from my bag.
“Their will is never easy to follow, eh?” I nodded.
“I am definitely going to hell” I said as I blew my nose noisily.
“No,” Nkosi said sharply, turning me towards him with my shoulders. “This is what I ha- dislike about religion, what have you done to warrant hell, my dear?”
“Who I am! Everything! Even my mother said so!” The tears fell freely now.
“Sometimes it is good you are young, because understanding is never a good thing at times. I want you to look around you Nikita” I did, everything scared me “No, not like that. Really look, do not look at the things, look at the people.” I tried again, everyone looked happy, hopeful and ready for another school year. I had never seen a group of people so unitedly beaming with positive emotions “Now I need you to think,” he said very firmly, his gaze piercing and demanding “think about the witch hunts, think about the witch camps, think about what people have gone through because of the fear of humans. They want to take away our joy, our pride and crush it, because Vodun is freedom to be oneself. To know about our history, where we actually come from and what we are here to do. Don’t you want to know that?” I nodded fervently.
“This would all have been talked about in the orientation” he sighed sadly “My office is always open to every student, especially you. Even if you’ve forgotten everything, remember this; you are not going to hell, you deserve to know everything and you are going to be okay”.
More tears dripped from my eyes but I left the conversation with Nkosi less anxious than I was before. I wondered why Mawu hated him.
I dislike a fair amount of humans.
Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.
“Well, you could’ve helped me, but you didn’t”
I have given you everything you need, all you have to do is believe in your godhood and walk in the understanding.
“How?” Silence greeted me, as always when having a conversation with Mawu.
The first class was Introduction to the History of Magic, Part 1. The teacher was ancient, his wrinkles almost concealed his face making it look like abused playdough with lips. However, he was kind and inviting and an excellent story-teller, making us all feel like we were there with the ancient humans, all those years ago as they found out that they could manipulate the elements with force of will and a few words. He made us feel the pain of those who were not able to do as their contemporaries did and their greed and evil as they murdered their fortunate brethren. He reduced his voice to a whisper when he told us how those who were naturally gifted went into hiding to protect themselves and others.
“But why couldn’t they fight back?” a girl up front said, her voice breaking from tears.
“My dear” Mr. Lin Meih sighed in his rich deep voice “Magic or Vodun is energy from within manipulating the elements without. It is like hyperventilating, you get a lot of air, but your lungs get tired and your throat gets parched.”
I understood. Every time I used my abilities, willingly or unwillingly, I felt exhausted. I could just imagine them beginning with much vigor and ferocity and then kneeling and bucking over after exhaustion struck them and their contemporaries with sticks, stones and sharp objects that did not get tired of striking and being struck.
“Now we know how to fight the way they did” a hard looking boy said, rousing the verbal support of the class “Why don’t we strike now? And take back our place as powerful than the others and come out of hiding?”
Mr. Lin began to laugh in a knowing way, laughing at our lack of understanding on exactly how things worked in real life, “Fighting back means acknowledging that we exist, and secrecy is what has kept us alive and thriving all these years. Imagine the chaos it would bring. Think of the witch trials- no think about racism, sexism, homophobia. Humans, although created different, cannot handle the differences of others”
That warranted loud shouts and hoots of protests but nothing much else, because we knew he was right. I raised my hand to stop myself from thinking about the pastors who my family had passed through, because I too had a question.
“Why do some people have abilities, and others do not?” The class got immediately quiet and Mr. Lin even looked at me in a strange way. I began to shrink in my seat, weighed from the accusing stares from the people in the room.
“You are new here, no?” We were all new here, we were in Level 1, but I knew he meant Vodun, to the magical community. I nodded. “There are differing theories, but the most prevailing one pseudo scientifically proven is intense gene modification due to evolution”
I smiled sweetly and made a mental note to never ask a question in class anymore.
When class ended, I met Neil. He was waiting for me in front of the class.
“How was your first class?” he asked cheerfully. I stared at him while looking for signs to betray his cheerfulness. Did he not realize that he broke a promise he swore heaven and earth to fulfill? Even sealing it with a kiss before I went to bed?
He looked at me back, seemingly expectant of an answer then his lip quivered. It was a minor action and if I hadn’t been looking so intensely at him, I would not have noticed. Before he spoke the next words, I knew what was coming.
“About last night,” he said scratching the back of his head, the universal signs of nervousness, and someone about to initiate a break-up of a relationship that never even began “, it didn’t really mean anything. I was really excited and I wasn’t thinking… making you think about something…”
My chest felt a million times heavier and my throat felt so parched and dry. I wanted to hit him…
No, I would not do that, I am better than that. I would be stone cold, he thinks I care about him, I will make him feel that he doesn’t mean anything in my life. He left me all alone this morning, if not for Nkosi I would’ve high tailed for home and probably worse. I should be raging.
But instead, I just shrugged and said okay. I hated myself for that, I wish I could hurt him the way he hurt me just then.
He offered to walk me to another class but I refused. I did not want him around me anymore.
The next class was Introduction to Agreements and although the topic sounded promising, I couldn’t help but feel sad and miserable. How dare he do that? And on my birthday for crying out loud. I was surprised but pleased I was not crying, maybe I had no time for my feelings for him to run that deep. Good, I had a lot of learning to do anyway/
I was so caught up in my thoughts when Mr. Bright first spoke, I jumped. I was surprised that I did not know he would be my teacher for this topic. Then I remembered his smirk at breakfast this morning, it was not told to me on purpose. I allowed myself to smile and he winked back. I removed my textbook from the bag and paid attention, depressed or not I would thoroughly enjoy myself.
After the third enchanting class that was Plants Part 1 that involved an actual trek in the forest nearby as the young woman who didn’t look a day over thirty identified 30 plants with their medical and spiritual uses, school was officially done for me. I had made no friends because I hadn’t spoken to anyone, even to the teachers to ask questions. The days’ events had rattled me so badly I did not feel up to socializing that much. I was one of the last to leave the classroom Ms. Dora sent us in to give us an essay assignment due in 2 weeks. I just flipped randomly through the books mesmerized by them and how little I did know about the world around me.
As soon as I left the Red Hut, I was greeted by what seemed like a masquerade. Students or might I say people because I did not know if they were students or not, wore colorful masquerade costumes and wore body paint with swirls all over them. They were scantily dressed, as they tried to mimic how our ancestors used to dress in their day. They were running around and screaming to the beats of drums with my mates kneeling in the middle of the commotion. Their reactions were mixed; some were afraid, some were excited and many more were more curious. One of the masqueraders saw me standing apart from them and led me to my friends in a cacophony of grunts and screams. Myself, I felt excited. I felt called to them somehow and how they honored their past. I loved how the sun glistened off their sweaty backs and ripped muscles that stretched and coiled under their tight skin as they jumped up and down helter skelter. I have never done something like that before and it looked so freeing, like they had no care in the world and all they wanted to do was dance to the music.
So, I did the worst. I got up, wiggled out of my bag and vest, and began to dance along with them. I never took Religious and Moral Education class seriously and scrunched my face in disgust whenever the cultural troupe was performing and now I understood why. There was no soul in what they were teaching and dancing to, it felt more of an obligation they had to fulfill rather than a way of life to be demonstrated. They did not believe in those gods or the stories, they did not understand what the dance moves meant, they did not feel the energy of the universe and thus it did not translate to others. It was a show, an act, an obligation and not a translation of worship to the gods.
For the first time, I danced for the gods. I hated them, I still blame them for making my mother try to kill me and separate me from Mike. I hated them for having all these powers and not knowing what to do with them. I hated them for refusing to teach me what I needed to know and I hated them for letting other people mistrust and treat me like scorn. So instead of mentally scorning them, I translated it into a dance, a dance I made along the way and a dance I did not know the steps to unless I took them. Most of the masqueraders were stunned to see me get up and dance along with them, meanwhile a few cheered me on and danced with me, somehow following along with the movements my body was making.
For the first time in my life, I felt like a whole person. Even though I did not realize it, all my life I thought of myself as a puzzle that couldn’t be put together. Angry Nikita was dangerous, Happy Nikita was just so happy to be alive, Sad Nikita wanted to dig a hole and bury herself in it and Perfect Nikita made mother happy. As I danced to this strange music and letting my anger and frustrations at the gods, I felt my cells calm and quicken and I felt a shift in my core such that Angry Nikita was just Happy Nikita who got pissed and Perfect Nikita was Sad Nikita to whom Mike had told a joke to. I was one and the same, I knew who I was, finally. Finally, finally, I knew!
I am Nikita, I am a force to be reckoned with!
I am a mighty warrior and I will tear down mountains just to get what I want!
As I said this, I felt a strong wind blow and I saw red but I knew it was a good kind of red, a celebratory red. A red of passion of self-awareness and a red of victory and strength. There was a whirlwind around me and I danced like there was no tomorrow. I saw other students running away from the area with a few of them laying prostrate in reverence to the god I was, I just laughed and continued. I had ruined a popular initiation for the level 1s; after their first day of classes, they were gathered and officially initiated into the family of Wagadu in a series of activities Neil had not told me no matter how much I begged and I now I’ll never know.
After what seemed like days, the drums finally stopped which I vaguely noticed no one was beating. I suddenly fell like a heap unto the floor, my body realizing the work I had put it through. I felt drained and I would not have known that I had that kind of energy 2 minutes ago if not for my protesting muscles.
Keeping my eyes closed from embarrassment of what came over me to act that way, I tried listening to my surroundings. Apart from the wind rustling the leaves and the sand I heard nothing so I almost jumped from my skin when a voice spoke from on top of me,
“You are not supposed to be in Level 1, are you?” It was Shango, from last night. He was kneeling over me with his entire weight supported on the balls of his feet and smiling so brightly I saw almost all of his thirty-two. His hair was still big and when he moved, the sun reflected some of the neon paint that was in his hair.
I wanted to reply but my breath caught and I ended up sighing.
Looking into his face, the realization dawned on me that I have ruined everything. The council, Nkosi, my father and Mike told me to keep a low profile and I went to dance and release god whirlwind that no one who was in Level 1 could release. What would they do when they found out? Would they ban me from Wagadu? Would I be kept into a secure location where no one would know where I was? What about Mike, where would he be? I felt so angry, embarrassed and disappointed in myself. I wondered if Nkosi would have kind words for me the next time he saw me. I had finally proven that initiates were dangerous and all their suspicions were right.
He held out his hand and I took it gratefully but my legs refused to move as they were too weak to support the rest of my body. Shango noticed them shaking in and held my waist to support me.
“Let her go!” We looked up and saw Neil running towards us. I assumed he was there for the initiation the entire time. I wonder why he didn’t attend.
“Relax, I’m helping her” Shango said with an air of humor, like everything going on was funny.
He reached over to grab me but my arms protested, refusing to work and my legs following suit decided to rebel as well. We almost fell, if not for Shango still holding me.
I bet we looked extremely weird from the outside – a girl who could hardly keep herself up having her arms over the shoulders of two boys; one of them looked like he would commit murder in five seconds if provoked while the other looked like the perfect image of calm and humor.
“None of you should let me go” I was a heavy person and I did not trust any of them to hold me up individually. Neil frowned at me and I would’ve frowned back if I wasn’t so exhausted.
“Where are you going to take her, Neil?” the question was so audibly taunting that I could feel the heat of anger leave Neil’s body. “You can’t take her to your house – your parents will be there, you can’t take her to your friends’ homes - it’s too far away” Neil stood staring daggers at him for a while “Tick-tock Neil, she can’t be seen, especially not like this with her particular circumstance”
“Fine,” Neil all but shouted, but defeat was apparent in his voice “let’s go to your place”
“Yo wait! Why should I trust you?” I just wasn’t going to a place just because Neil said so. I was still angry with him. Shango crept his face so close to mine that I could smell his minty breath when he spoke.
“Because I’m an initiate too, Nikita”
My surprised gasp made him chuckle.