CHAPTER 35
Walker of the Spirit World

Djina!

She called her name into the far reaches of existence. She searched for her through the vast corporeal plains, through an unending ocean of what could not be seen; shouted her name into fields of ever-changing substance that she couldn’t fathom, where light and darkness were one thing, nothingness and form coalesced into each other. She persisted, and she called in all the places Djina’s soul had gone to, grown into. There were other people she knew, too: Father, Mother, Wakani. But they were too far gone, too melded into the fabric of everything. But she expressed her love for them, and she felt their love for her.

Djina heard and answered. Nasomi? Isn’t it all beautiful? Her voice came from everywhere and everything.

It is.

You came to take me back. A solemn statement, not a question.

I need you, Djina.

I can see and feel everything. But I am not sure I can come back.

“Follow my voice. I am going to your body.”

Piece by piece, from as far as she’d gone and become, Djina’s essence came together. It was a beautiful thing for Nasomi to experience. She led and Djina followed, until the girl got sucked back into her body and jumped up amidst dead bodies.

There was a ring of fire around the Blessed Departed, who had been put in a sitting position, supported by stakes in the ground, and nearby a throng of Ndinge people danced and imbibed and spoke at the top of their voices.

“I am back!” Djina shouted, and burst into laughter. “Oh, wonders! I am back!” She raised her hands but a pain stung her shoulder and she winced. She prodded at the deep wound with a finger, sucked through her teeth. Then laughed as though it didn’t matter.

A silence swept through the celebrations and the people looked at her with awe as she came toward them.

Nasomi came to herself, jumped up. “She’s alive, my love! She heard me.” She threw her arms around the confounded Tambo. “I did it, Tambo! I called her back.”

“What is happening, Nasomi?”

“I will explain on the way. We must hurry now to go meet her.”

She told him everything as they journeyed to Ashge. He listened intently, asked a lot of questions, interjected with parts of his tale that she didn’t see in her tellings. If he were a scribe, he would have written it all down. Twice the first night as they rested on a bed of leaves, she awoke to find him staring at her. “I’m finally with you,” he whispered, stroked her cheeks.

The next day, Nasomi decided it was finally time to walk into her children’s dreams. Ramona was at the Kepe palace. “Mother,” she said, as she looked around the blackness, over which sparks like stars began to environ. “I have been thinking of you.”

“I know, child. I am with your father now. We are coming home.”

“I knew it! I’ve had these… feelings.”

“I have so much to tell you about them.” She thought of explaining that this was no mere dream; the actual Nasomi was talking to Ramona, but she knew this was reassuring enough for her daughter.

“I will be waiting for you. Meron…” She dropped her gaze.

“It is fine, Mona. I know what happened. I will find him and speak to him.”

Meron was asleep in Mihide’s house, the one made of bamboo sticks, in which she herself had been and met the young Azuku. When his dream, in which he was on a throne, turned black and he saw Nasomi, he only stared at her.

“Meron.”

He approached her. He said, “I remember your face now. I had forgotten.”

“It is truly me, Meron. I am here with you, and I will return.”

“You left me!” he shouted. “You let this all happen. I have done bad things now.”

She approached him, but like in all other dreamwalks, she couldn’t touch him. Her hand passed through him like he was air. “I am so sorry I had to leave. Words cannot mend what my absence destroyed. I will do it right this time. Please forgive me.”

He looked up at her. “Mona said you’re coming back.”

“I know it is hard for you to believe, but I am truly here talking to you. I am with your father, we are in Tunkambe. We are coming to you. Meron, I will always be watching over you.”

He woke up, placed his hands over his eyes in deep thought. Nasomi returned to herself, and told Tambo that the children were safe and expecting them.

She and Tambo reached Ashge on the evening of the third day, found Djina surrounded by a mesmerized crowd. They held on to her every word as she told them about what it feels like to come back from the dead. It took two days to pry her away from them, and they had made up a dozen songs about her.

Djina the Awoken, the Joyous One, would never be forgotten among the Ndinge. Even though Nasomi urged her to understate Nasomi’s role, an equal number of songs and legends spread about Nasomi the Caller, the Walker of the Spirit World, the One Who Sees All. They had devotees all along the journey from Ashge. Nasomi had to insist that she could not do it again when they asked her to call to their dead loved ones. They followed still, even if all they did was gaze at her in admiration.

Djina’s wound slowed them down as well. She tired quickly and developed a high fever. But nothing could dampen her soul. She talked and laughed like the pain didn’t matter. Even when she slept, there was a smile on her face.

She often said, “I feel as if some part of me out there.” She made a wide arc in the air with her hand. “Being here, back in my body, is like waking up from a sweet dream, starting to forget what it is like. But remembering only the good feelings. Ever since, though, it’s like nothing is… big anymore. Nothing bothers me. I’m just happy. I feel like dancing and singing all the time.”

They perched in Olonge for five days, to let Djina heal. Because of their new reputation, they were offered the best accommodation the village could give, at no charge. They dined in the Chief’s kraal and his best medicos attended to Djina.

One night, Nasomi awoke from a dreamless sleep, her bladder pressing. She sat up and lifted herself from the sleeping mat. Out of habit, she picked up her staff. She warped into a telling.

Reema lay on a small patch of ground from which she’d cleared the grass. She had curled herself tightly against the cold. Nasomi melded into her, and realized Reema wasn’t asleep, but was trying hard to. She was cold, hungry.

Reema started, sat up, squinted around into the night. There was a shape approaching. Two, three. More. They surrounded her.

She made out barely-dressed tall bony people wielding spears, and Nasomi recognized them as the Tunka people she had seen by the ocean shore. Among them was the boy she’d been, who had swung dangerously in the tall trees. He stared at Reema with big curious eyes.

The man in the lead pointed his spear at Reema. Nasomi felt she needed to go back, to give Reema a private death, but she lingered. “Wenda? Ke banga?” the man said, in a sharp thin voice.

“I don’t understand,” Reema said, shielding herself with her arm as if it could stop the spear if he thrust it.

The man turned to his companions, instructed them something. Two dashed away, quick as hyenas. The man turned to the boy. “Mdua. Tonya we pa. Bela mpa.”

The boy’s eyes widened in fear, then came, knelt before the man. “Ne pekane, Mungu,” he replied, quite unwillingly as far as Reema could tell.

The boy turned his spear, held it at the head and brought it to his chest. He bit his lower lip, closed his eyes, made a slow slash across his chest. Blood trickled down. The man placed a palm on the blood, rubbed it.

He turned to Reema, grabbed at her neck before she could flinch, lifted her off the ground. He was stronger than his gaunt looks suggested. He said something.

At first, all she could hear was him repeat, “Tuka… tuka,” as though it was a chant, and then, as if something unlocked in her mind, she, and Nasomi within her, could understand him. “Speak.”

He squeezed her neck tighter.

“Please, you’re choking me.” Reema’s eyes widened. “I can speak your tongue! How is this possible?”

“How many are you?” he demanded. “What do you want in our land?”

“I am alone, lost. Please, all I want is some food.”

“If you lie to me, we will find out. I have sent two to scout. We will kill anyone we find trying to hide.”

“Stop choking me. I have told you I am alone. If you won’t feed me, then kill me.”

“Tell us about the pillar of light we saw in the west.”

“Pillar of light? I don’t…” Then she remembered her fight with Nasomi. It seemed these people all the way here had seen the effect. “That was caused by the dreamwitch.”

“Who is this dreamwitch?”

“Some simple farm girl who has the ability to find anyone in the world.”

“This is another sign, Mungu,” someone said. “The gods brought her into our path for this.”

The man let go of Reema’s neck, and she flopped to the ground. As he turned to confer with his companions, she realized she’d lost the language. She got the gist of it, and a few words stood out. Their language wouldn’t be a difficult one to learn, she conjectured.

The man got hold of her neck. “Can this dreamwitch of yours find Uzegwenya?” She could comprehend the language again.

“Who is Uzegwenya?”

A woman answered, stepping around to be in Reema’s sight. If she wasn’t afraid for her life, Reema would have scoffed at the girl. She was thin and knobby, starved, looking ridiculous with such a big spear in her hand. “The great beast. Shaker of mountains, destroyer of cities, breather of fire. It will make us stro─”

“That’s enough talking from you,” the man admonished her, giving her a stern look. She cowered back.

“I have heard of this beast,” Reema said. “The dreamwitch can find it.”

“You will take us to her.” He dropped her again, and someone came forward with a rope.

“At least give me food if you’re going to tie me up.”

A hand on Nasomi’s cheek brought her back to her body. Tambo was up, staring at her. “Are you alright?”

She smiled. “I was only going to make water. Go back to sleep.”

“You had a telling?”

She nodded. “Reema.”

“Again?”

“Again. I will tell you about it when I return.” She stood and went outside.

A cold breeze greeted her, she shivered but paid no mind. She would be back in warm covers soon. The sky was moonless and dotted with so many stars it looked alive. She gazed upwards. She had been up there, out there, with the Mara, seeing everything.

As Djina said, nothing felt big anymore. Nasomi had a constant joy with her now, rooted within and nothing could faze her anymore, not even the telling she just had. Whatever trouble Reema and the Tunka horde were bringing was not worth losing sleep over. Not even the prospect of a mountain-razing, fire-breathing beast could scare her anymore. She would be ready for them.

She had a long journey to think of. Perhaps there would be new discoveries to make between here and Nari, new adventures. She needed to apologize to Beyuchi for leaving him without warning; she needed to see Tebula and Kanguya again, needed to dance once again in Mifirhana, this time with Tambo by her side. Marvel at the trees of the Redland. Admire the stars watching over Nari.

And she had so many things to tell her children.