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WORLD FANTASY, AWARD-WINNING AUTHOR INNEDI 3% OKORAFOR KATA “There’s more vivid imagination in a-page of Nnedi “Okorafor’s work than in whole volumes of" ordinary fantasy epics.” —UrsuLa K.
Digitized by the Internet Archive in 2022 with funding from Kahle/Austin Foundation https://archive.org/details/akatawitchOO00okor_p7i6
IESE Say “Good,” Anatov said.
He walked a circle around her.
He reached into his pocket and brought out a handful of white powder and started sifting it from his hand as he circled her again.
This time he moved slowly.
When he'd completed the powder circle, he brought out a knife.
It had a handle with red jewels.
The blade was shiny and very sharp looking.
Sunny glanced at Orlu, who gave a small smile of encour agement.
All she could think about was Black Hat.
Anatov was too close for her to make a run for the door.
“Excuse me,” she stammered.
.” “You'll remember this for a long time,” Anatov said with a chuckle.
She leaned away from him, her hand up asa shield, as he raised the sharp, shiny knife.
She braced herself.
But no blow came.
He seemed to be drawing in the air.
A soft red symbol—a circle with a cross in the center—floated above her head like smoke.
Slowly, it descended on her.
“Hold your breath,” Chichi said just as it touched her upturned face.
But before she could, she was pulled down.
Yanked like a rag doll.
First through the hut’s dirt floor and then into sweet-smelling earth.
Books by NNEDI OKORAFOR Akata Warrior Akata Witch Binti Binti: Home The Book of Phoenix Kabu Kabu Lagoon Who Fears Death Zahrah the Windseeker
NSIBIDI FOR & “THIS IS ALL MINE
SPEAK An imprint of Penguin Random House LLC 375 Hudson Street New York, New York 10014 First published in the United States of America by Viking, an imprint of Penguin Group (USA) Inc., 2011 Published by Speak, an imprint of Penguin Random House LLC, 2017 Text and drawings copyright © 2011 by Nnedi Okorafor Penguin su...
Copyright fuels creativity, encourages diverse voices, pro- motes free speech, and creates a vibrant culture.
Thank you for buying an authorized edition of this book and for complying with copyright laws by not reproducing, scan- ning, or distributing any part of it in any form without permission.
You are supporting writers and allowing Penguin to continue to publish books for every reader.
LIBRARY OF CONGRESS CATALOGING-IN-PUBLICATION DATA IS AVAILABLE Speak ISBN 9780142420911 Printed in the U.S.A.
Book design by Jim Hoover 7 9 10 8 6 The Nsibidi symbols throughout were drawn by the author.
The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.
To Sandra Marume, the spunky Igbo girl with the sharp tongue and mysterious ways, who just happened to be albino.
It’s been awhile, but I hope I captured you well.
at And to my mother, who was terrified of masquerades as a kid and still is.
This book dances with them.
nes refine vit Ate ee .
Here, in the new venture, the extraordinary, the magical, the wonderful, and even the strange come out of the ordinary and the familiar.
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PROLOGUE Teint.
I've always been fascinated by candles.
Looking into the flame calms me down.
Here in Nigeria, PHC is always taking the lights, so I keep candles in my room just in case.
PHC stands for “Power Holding Company of Nigeria,” but people like to say it really stands for “Please Hold Candles in Nigeria.” Back in Chicago we had National Grid, and the electricity was always working.
Not here, though.
Maybe in the future.
One night, after the power went out, I lit a candle as usual.
Then, also as usual, I got down on the floor and just gazed at its flame.
My candle was white and thick, like the ones in church.
2 He Nuesi Olorafor I lay on my belly and just stared and stared into it.
So orange, like the abdomen of a firefly.
It was nice and soothing until .
it started flickering.
Then, I thought I saw something.
Something serious and big and scary.
I moved closer.
The candle just flickered like any other flame.
I moved even closer, until the flame was an inch from my eyes.
I could see something.
I moved closer still.
I was almost there.
I was just starting to understand what I saw when the flame kissed something above my head.
Then the smell hit me and the room was suddenly bright yellow orange!
My hair was on fire!
I screamed and smacked my head as hard as I could.
My burning hair singed my hand.
Next thing I knew, my mother was there.
She tore off her rapa and threw it over my head.
The electricity suddenly came back on.
My brothers ran in, then my father.
The room smelled awful.
My hair was half gone and my hands were tender.
That night, my mother cut my hair.
Seventy percent of my lovely long hair, gone.
But it was what I saw in that candle that stayed with me most.
I'd seen the end of the world in its flame.
Raging fires, boiling oceans, toppled sky- scrapers, ruptured land, dead and dying people.
It was hor rible.
And it was coming.
ta bat Witch 3 My name is Sunny Nwazue and I confuse people.
I have two older brothers.
Like my parents, my brothers were both born here in Nigeria.
Then my family moved to America, where I was born in the city of New York.
When I was nine, we returned to Nigeria, near the town of Aba.
My parents felt it would be a better place to raise my brothers and me, at least that’s what my mom says.
We're Igbo—that’s an ethnic group from Nigeria—so I’m American and Igbo, I guess.
You see why I confuse people?
I’m Nigerian by blood, American by birth, and Nigerian again because I live here.
I have West African features, like my mother, but while the rest of my family is dark brown, I’ve got light yellow hair, skin the color of “sour milk” (or so stupid people like to tell me), and hazel eyes that look like God ran out of the right color.
I’m albino.
Being albino made the sun my enemy; my skin burned so easily that I felt nearly flammable.
That’s why, though I was really good at soccer, I couldn’t join the boys when they played after school.
Although they wouldn't have let me anyway, me being a girl.
Very narrow-minded.
I had to play at night, with my brothers, when they felt like it.
Of course, this was all before that afternoon with Chichi and Orlu, when everything changed.
I look back now and see that there were signs of what was to come.
4 Nuedi Olorafer When I was two, during a brief visit to Nigeria with my family, I contracted malaria.
It was a bad case and I almost died from it when I got back to the States.