I shook my head, slowly.
“We’re the Enyi Zinariya,” he said. “No, I won’t translate that for you.” He looked directly at me, into my eyes, and I didn’t turn away. I wanted an answer to my initial question and I knew when I was being tested. There is nothing like being a harmonizer and looking directly into another harmonizer’s eyes. Nothing.
Everything around us dropped away and there was a sonorous melody that vibrated between my ears that was so perfectly aligned that I felt as if I were beginning to float.
“I only know what I am taught,” I whispered.
“That’s not true,” he said.
“I . . . I met one of you once,” I said.
“We know,” he said. “And was she a savage?”
“No,” I said.
“So you knew that back then.”
“Okay,” I said, shutting my eyes and rubbing my forehead. “Okay.”
He chuckled. “When we heard about what you did, we all cheered.”
“Really?”
He turned away from me, finished talking. “You should go. Get some sleep.”
“Answer my question first,” I said. “Please.”
“I did. I said we are communicating.”
“With who?”
“Everyone.”
“As you speak to me, you’re speaking to others?”
“It’s the same with your astrolabe,” he said. “Can’t you use it while you talk to other people?”
“But no one is here.”
“I was talking to my mother back in the village,” he said. “She was asking about you.”
“Oh,” I said, frowning deeply. “So you can speak like how I speak to Okwu?”
He paused and moved his hands. Then he turned to me and flatly said, “Ask your grandmother.”
I was about to get up, but then I stopped and asked, “Crown? You said I have the crown like you?”
He grasped a handful of his bushy red-brown hair, “This is the crown.” Then he laughed. “Well, you used to have it. Before the Meduse took it and replaced it with tentacles.”
I wanted to be offended but the way he said it, in such a literal way, instead pulled a hard laugh out of me and suddenly we were both giggling. When I calmed down, the fatigue of the journey hit me and I slowly got up. “What was the name of your clan again?” I asked.
“You’re Himba, I’m Enyi Zinariya,” he said.
“Enyi Zinariya,” I repeated.
He nodded, smiling. “You pronounced it well.”
“Okay,” I said and went back to my grandmother’s tent, lay down, and was asleep within seconds.
*
“Get up, girl.”
I opened my eyes to my grandmother’s face and the sound of the tent walls flapping from the wind. I stared into her eyes, blinking away the last remnants of sleep. When I sat up, I felt amazingly well rested. The cooling breeze of evening smelled so fresh that I flared my nostrils and inhaled deeply. I’d slept for nearly six hours.
My grandmother smiled, the strong breeze blowing her bushy hair about. “Yes, it’s a good time to move across the desert.”
The desert looked absolutely stunning, bright moonlight and the soft travel of the sand blending to make the ground look otherworldly. I could hear the others talking, laughing and moving about, and the two camels roaring as they were made to stand up. The smell of flat bread made my stomach grumble.
“Grandma,” I said. “Please, tell me why the Enyi Zinariya speak with their hands.”
Her eyes grew wide for a moment and I quickly said, “I’ve been planets away and learned about and met people from other worlds. It’s wrong that I don’t even know of my own . . . my own people.” I let out a breath as my words sunk into me. They were the truth now, a truth that had been different a day ago when I had been ashamed and quiet about my blood. Seeing the Night Masquerade had lived up to its mythology. To see it did signify immediate drastic change.
“Walk with me,” my grandmother said, then she left the tent. I followed, grabbing my satchel. As we walked away from the camp, I saw two of the men go to our tent and start breaking it down. She led me up the nearest high sand dune. When we reached the top, she turned toward the camp and sat down. I sat beside her. Below, the camp was aflutter with activity, all the tents packed up except ours. I was clearly the last to wake up.
“You’ve somehow learned the name of our clan.”
“I asked Mwinyi.”
“Having curiosity is the only way to learn,” she said. She worked her hands before her for a moment and then looked at me. “That was me communicating with your father.”
I raised my eyebrows.
“You Himba are so inward-looking,” she said. “Cocooned around that pink lake, growing your technology from knowledge harvested from deep within your genius, you girls and women dig up your red clay and hide beneath it. You’re an interesting people who have been on those lands for generations. But you’re a young people. The Enyi Zinariya are old old Africans.
“And contrary to what you all believe, we have technology that puts yours to shame and we’ve had it for centuries.” She paused, letting this news sink in. It wasn’t sinking in to me easily. All that she’d said was so contrary to all that I had been taught that I’d begun to feel a little dizzy.
“We didn’t create it, though,” she continued. “It was brought to us by the Zinariya. Those who were there documented the Zinariya times, but the files were kept on paper and paper does not last. So all we really know is what elders read and then what the elders after those elders remembered and then what the next elders remembered and so on.
“The Zinariya came to us in the desert. They were a golden people, who glinted in the sun. They were solar and had landed in Earth’s desert to rest and refuel on their way to Oomza Uni.”
I couldn’t control myself. “What?” I shrieked.
She chuckled. “Yes. We ‘Desert People’ knew of Oomza Uni before other people on Earth even had mobile phones!”
“Oh my goodness,” I whispered. I couldn’t imagine anyone on Earth back then being able to comprehend the very idea of Oomza Uni. Human beings on Earth hadn’t even had real contact with people from outside yet, and the nonhumans who had had contact with extraterrestrials never bothered to convey anything to human beings. It was centuries later and I, who had been there, was still trying to wrap my brain around the sheer greatness of Oomza Uni.