He looked at me. “She told you that?”

“It was like I was in her mind. She didn’t have to tell me anything. She didn’t feel I could cure her. She had to be free of her body.”

“I… I was… Onye, I’m sorry… For my words, my actions.” He brought his legs to his chest and looked down. He was shaking, trying to hold in his grief.

“Don’t do that,” I said. “Let it out.”

I held him as he fell apart. When he could speak, he was breathless like his sister. “My parents are dead. We aren’t close with any relatives.” He sighed. “I’m alone now.” He looked at the sky. I thought about Nuumu’s green spirit spiriting away with glee.

“Why didn’t you two marry anyone?” I asked. “Didn’t you want children?”

“Twins aren’t expected to have normal lives,” he said.

I frowned, thinking, Says who? Says tradition. Oh, how our traditions limit and outcast those of us who aren’t normal.

“You’re not… you’re not alone,” I blurted. “We recognized you the moment we saw you. We knew your face. We knew your sister’s face.”

“Yes. How was that?” he asked, frowning.

“We know your mother.”

“Did you meet her? Were you here years ago? I don’t…”

“Listen,” I said. I took a deep breath. “We know your mother. She’s alive.”

Fanta shook his head. “No, she’s dead. She was bitten by a snake.”

“Your mother was actually your great-aunt.”

“What! But that… “He stopped and frowned. After a long moment, he said, “Nuumu knew. There was this tiny hole in the wall in the room we shared as children. We found a rolled up painting in there once, of a woman. On the back it said, ‘To my son and daughter, with love.’ We couldn’t read the signature. We were about eight. I didn’t care for it but Nuumu thought it meant something. She never showed it to our parents. Our mother wasn’t a painter, neither was our father. That painting is what got Nuumu interested in painting. She was very good. Her work sold for high prices at the market…” He trailed off a baffled look on his face.

“Your mother is the Ada of Jwahir,” I said. “She’s highly respected and she paints all the time,” I said. “Her name is Yere and she’s married to Aro, the sorcerer who is my teacher. Do you want to hear more?”

“Yes! Of course!”

I smiled, glad to finally give him something good.

“When she was fifteen, a boy was interested in her…” I told him his mother’s story and whatever else I knew of her. I left out the part about the Eleventh Rite juju she’d asked Aro to work on the girls.

We both slept well that night out there, Fanta’s arms around me. I wondered how Mwita felt about this but some things are more important than a man’s ego. In the morning, Mwita sent Diti and Luyu to the house of the Banza elders to give the news of Nuumu’s death. The house would soon be full of mourners and people helping Fanta. It was time to go.

Fanta also planned to leave. After his sister’s ceremony and cremation, he said he was going to sell his house and travel to Jwahir to find his mother. “There is nothing left for me here,” he said. Without his twin, soon Banza would stop funding him. When a twin died, the remaining one was bad luck. We said good-bye to Fanta as the house filled up. Many of the people gave Mwita and me dirty looks and I feared for us. We’d come into town yesterday and now one of their precious twins was dead.

We took a different road down the hill. It led straight out of town. It also took us past the Goat Hair Brothel. It was a sight that I’ll never forget. Though early in the day, the women were already out. They sat on the balcony of the three-story house. Their skin was bright and they wore clothes that made them even brighter. Mwita and I were much darker from traveling in the sun, so to my eyes, they practically glowed. They lounged on chairs and hung their delicate feet over the balcony. Some wore tops cut so low that their nipples showed.

“Where do you think their mothers are?” I asked Mwita.

“Or their fathers,” he whispered.

“Mwita, I doubt any of them are like you,” I said. “They have no fathers.”

One of the girls waved. I waved back.

“They are kind of pretty, in their own way, maybe,” I heard Diti say to Luyu.

“If you say so,” Luyu said, doubtfully.

As we passed the last building, we heard a haunting rise of wailing voices. Banza’s women had arrived at the house of their twins. Fanta would be well taken care of, at least for now. Once his sister was cremated, he would disappear into the night. I felt for Fanta. His other half had left him, had been happy to do so. But getting out of Banza was probably for the better. At its core, the town was good, but parts of it were festering. And now Fanta would be able to have a life instead of being an idea that gave other people selfish hope.

As we walked, that brothel not far behind us, I felt a wave of anger. To be something abnormal meant that you were to serve the normal. And if you refused, they hated you… and often the normal hated you even when you did serve them. Look at those Ewu girls and women. Look at Fanta and Nuumu. Look at Mwita and me.

Not for the last time I suspected that whatever I’d do in the West would be violent. Despite what Mwita said and believed. Look at how Mwita reacted to seeing Daib. It was reality. I was Ewu, who would listen to me without the threat of violence? Like those disgusting men outside the tavern. They hadn’t heard me until they feared me.

Just before we came to the road, we met the three camels. To the left was a large pile of dung and it looked like one or two of them had gone and brought back clumps of dry grass to munch on. “You waited,” I said smiling. Without thinking, I ran to the one that had threatened me and threw my arms around its shaggy dusty neck.

“What in the name of Ani are you doing?!” Fanasi shouted.

The camel groaned but welcomed my hug. I stepped back. The camel was large and probably female. I cocked my head. One of the other camels was not very big. A baby that soon wouldn’t be. Possibly weaned recently. I wondered if the female would let us milk her. Camel milk had Vitamin C. My mother said she’d done this several times when I was very young.

“What should we call each of you?” I asked. “How about Sandi?” Mwita laughed and shook his head. Luyu was staring. Fanasi brought out the dagger he’d bought in Banza. Binta looked disgusted. And Diti looked annoyed.

“You’re probably covered with lice, you know,” Diti said. “I hope you’re ready to cut off your lovely hair.”

I scoffed. “Only domestic camels have that problem.”

“That thing could have bitten your head off,” Fanasi said, still holding his dagger.

“But it didn’t,” I said with a sigh. “Will you put that away?”

“No,” he said.

The camels weren’t stupid. They were watching each of us closely. It was only a matter of time now before one of the camels spit at or bit Fanasi. I turned back to the head camel. “I am Onyesonwu Ubaid-Ogundimu, born in the desert and raised in Jwahir. I’m twenty years old and a sorceress apprenticed to the sorcerer Aro and mentored by the sorcerer Sola. Mwita, tell it who you are.”

He stepped up to them. “I’m Mwita, Onyesonwu’s life companion.”

Fanasi sucked his teeth loudly. “Why don’t you just say you’re her husband?”

“Because I’m more than that,” Mwita said. Fanasi gave him a dirty look, mumbled something under his breath and proceeded to ignore everyone. Mwita turned back to the camel. “I was born in Mawu and raised in Durfa. I’m a pre-sorcerer. I wasn’t allowed to pass initiation for… reasons.” He glanced at me. “I’m also a healer, apprenticed to and passed by the healer Abadie.”

The three camels just sat there and looked at both of us.

“Give it a hug,” I said.

“What?” he asked.

Diti, Luyu and Binta giggled.

“Ani save us,” Fanasi grumbled, rolling his eyes.

I pushed Mwita forward. He stood before the great beast. Then he held up his arms and slowly wrapped them around the camel’s neck. The camel grunted softly. Mwita did the same to the other camels. They too seemed pleased by this gesture, grunting loudly and nudging Mwita hard enough to make him stumble.