I slammed my bedroom door behind me and just stood there. My entire body was shuddering. I’d traveled so far to come home and rest in the arms of my family and now I’d just cast myself out. “Even a masquerade has its people, only a ghost wanders alone,” my father liked to say. I have to fix this, I desperately thought. But my mind was too full of adrenaline and fury to think of anything.
The gift on my bed caught my eye. I unwrapped it and unfolded the silky wrapper, matching top and veil inside it, all the deep orange color of otjize. “Beautiful,” I whispered. Lovely light weather-treated material that would make walking in the desert under the noon sun like standing in the shade. A girl’s or woman’s pilgrimage clothes were the most expensive and treasured clothes she would have until her wedding day.
I laughed bitterly. These would probably be the most expensive and treasured clothes in my life. “No marriage for me,” I muttered. My words made me snicker to myself and then I laughed harder. Soon, I was laughing so hard that my belly muscles were cramping.
When I calmed down, I listened, still hearing my family talking loudly in the meeting room. I shook out my pilgrimage clothes and laid them on my chair. I brought out my astrolabe and edan and placed them side by side on my bed. I shut my eyes and was about to do one of the breathing exercises Professor Okpala had taught me when my astrolabe chimed. Someone was trying to reach me. I paused, my eyes closed, going through a list of who it could possibly be.
My sisters? Probably.
My father? No.
My mother? Possibly.
My uncles or aunties? Likely.
I opened my eyes and saw Dele’s face filling in the circular screen of my astrolabe. He was looking down at his hands, as he waited for me to accept his call. “Dele,” I said and the notification chimes stopped. He looked up, seeing me, and we stared at each other. We hadn’t spoken since I left. He wouldn’t answer or return my calls and he had never called me. He looked older, now . . . and wiser.
“You have a beard,” I blurted. It was light and fuzzy, but a beard it was.
“I’ve joined the Himba Council. ” He didn’t smile as he conveyed this news. Then he just stared at me. I stared back. The Himba Council? Was he next in line to apprentice for Council Chief? Dele? Council apprentices weren’t allowed to leave Himbaland. When had Dele become so . . . rooted? From downstairs, they still talked, voices raised. Now, I heard my mother speaking. Shouting?
“How have you been?” I finally asked.
“Here,” he said.
More silence. “What . . . what do you want, Dele?”
“Your sister messaged me to call you immediately,” he said. “What’s going on?”
“This is why you finally reach out to me?”
“You were the one who left, not me.”
“So?”
Silence.
“Dele . . . I couldn’t tell you,” I said. “Everyone . . . you just assumed I wasn’t going, that I wasn’t supposed to go. I wanted to, Dele. So badly. Haven’t you ever wanted something with all your heart, yet . . .”
“Yet, not one person in my family, in my entire clan, wanted it for me? No, Binti, never. That would be selfish. I’m not Khoush.”
Dele and I had known each other since we were babies and as we grew older, Dele had begun to lean more and more toward embracing the deep Himba way. We used to joke and argue about it, but our friendship always won out over the laws, rules, and mores. Plus, back then, his traditional leanings made him seem so strong and important, despite my dislike of it. Now, he’d grown a beard.
“You’re too complex, Binti,” he said. “That’s why I stayed away. You’re my best friend. You are. And I miss you. But, you’re too complex. And look at you; you’re even stranger now.” He pointed into the camera. “You think you can cover those things with otjize and I won’t see them? I know you.”
I sat down hard on my bed, feeling breathless again. Had my sister told him about my okuoko? Could he really see them through the camera? They weren’t even moving.
“What are you trying to accomplish with all this?” he asked. “I can see it in your face, you’re not well. You look tired and sad and . . .”
“Because of what just happened!” I said. “Why don’t you ask me about that? Instead of assuming the greatest choice I’ve ever made for myself is making me sick? Home is making me sick! I was fine until I got here.” This wasn’t all true, of course, but I needed to make my point clearly.
“We all love you,” he said. “You don’t know how your leaving made your family suffer. Your father’s business may have increased because of you, but his health has decreased. That doesn’t bode well for our village. He’s more our leader than our chief! He’s master harmonizer! And people here . . . ask your younger sisters, girl cousins how they get treated. You’ve stained them. Marriage won’t be . . .”
“None of that’s my fault!”
Dele paused and shook his head, chuckling softly. Then, again, we were staring at each other.
He waved a hand at me. “I can’t help you, Binti.”
“Can’t help you, either,” I snapped.
“I hear you’re going on pilgrimage tomorrow,” he said. “You have strange timing, but good luck.”
“Thanks,” I said, looking away.
“I trust you will take care of yourself,” he said, coolly. Then Dele was gone. And for the first time, it really sunk in. No man wanted a girl who ran away. No man would marry me.
I pushed my astrolabe and edan aside, lay on my bed, curled up, and cried myself to sleep.
Night Masquerade
I awoke hours later with a face crusty with tears, dried otjize, and snot. I went to the bathroom, blew and wiped my nose, and looked at myself in the mirror. Old otjize was flaking from my cheeks and forehead, leaving patches of clear brown bare skin. I needed to remove it all and reapply. I’d feel more myself, I knew. I didn’t pause on the knowledge that my current batch of otjize was made with clay from another planet. As I stared at my haggard face in the mirror, I glanced at the window facing the back of the house and remembered Okwu was out there.
I tiptoed downstairs and peeked into the main room. There were a few still awake, softly chatting in a corner, my sister Vera one of them. Many were curled up on flat pillows and mats. I snuck out the back door and nearly walked right into Okwu.
“It didn’t go well,” it said.
“No,” I said, stepping around it to go look at its gas-filled tent. The tent’s tall puffy girth reminded me of a giant Meduse. Maybe that’s what my father was going for when he set it up.
“Your father came out to check on me,” Okwu said. “He seemed upset.”
I grunted, but said nothing more of it. “Do you want to go see the lake?” I said.
Okwu plumed out a great amount of gas and I coughed, fanning the air around me. “Yes,” it said, its voice so clear that the vibration of it made my head ache.