Free Invisible World by Suzanne Weyn Page A

let you into the cabin.”
    I coughed up the water I had just sipped. “Why does she think I’m a witch?” I asked. Had she seen into my deepest secret, my desire to know what witches knew? Did she know about my grandmother and great-grandmother?
    â€œAunty Honey told me that you went into her mind and witnessed her most hidden memories. To protect her thoughts, she had to enter your mind and put a stop to it.”
    It was true!
    â€œI think she was trying to kill me,” I said, remembering the old woman’s ferocious violence.
    â€œNo. If Aunty Honey wanted you dead, you would be dead.”
    We sat there for several minutes without speaking.
    â€œDo you think I am a witch?” I finally asked.
    It was a relief to see a smile spread across his handsome face. “Would I give you my corn bread if I did? No. I don’t think there is any bad in you — but there is power, the same power as in Aunty Honey.”
    â€œHow do you know that?”
    Aakif shrugged. “I can feel it. Sometimes I just know things. I have … I don’t know … I think the word for it is instinct . I have an instinct for people and what they are like. But Aunty Honey does not guess, she knows. She has great power but also knowledge. She has studied the roots and flowers, even minerals and animals.”
    â€œWhere does she get her supplies?” I asked.
    â€œSome are brought in from Africa, often already ground. Like a blowfish for instance. Did you know that the venom from a blowfish can make a person appear dead, even though that person is really still alive?”
    A shiver of fear ran through me. “How awful! Has Aunty Honey ever poisoned anyone?” I asked, fearful of the answer but needing to know. If so, I would have to be careful of everything Aakif offered me to eat.
    Aakif sighed and contemplated the question for a moment. “Aunty Honey boasts of poisoning many folk. All her victims had bad juju, she claims, and deserved to die.”
    â€œShe thinks I have bad juju,” I reminded Aakif.
    â€œI know. I did not expect that when I brought you to her.”
    â€œWhat should I do?”
    â€œBe careful of her,” he advised. “I will speak with her on your behalf.”
    Leaning forward, I felt strong enough to get to my feet. “I think I should go back to the beach,” I decided. “It’s probably best if I stay out of Aunty Honey’s way.” I really didn’t need her turning the whole village against me.
    â€œMaybe so,” Aakif agreed, no doubt with the same idea in mind. He went back to his cabin and quickly returned with a cloth bag. “Supplies,” he explained. Swatting another mosquito, I let him lead me back the way we’d come. “Do you want to stay on the beach or in the forest?” he asked.
    â€œThe beach,” I answered without thinking about it much. I simply liked the beach better. “It’s cooler and has fewer mosquitoes,” I added.
    â€œThe smoke from your fire will help keep them off,” Aakif said. “I’ve brought you more coal.”
    Once more, we walked through the shadowy forest. I told him how I’d thought I’d seen an angel the other day, but it was a heron.
    â€œAh, I know of these angel spirits,” Aakif said. “How do you know them?”
    â€œFrom the Bible. My father would read it to us every night.”
    â€œSometimes here on the plantation, white men in black robes come to read it to us. Mostly they read stories about Jesus. I like those stories. But I first heard of angels from the Muslims back in Sierra Leone. I met them while working for the palm oil company. Their stories are very much like the Bible stories, and they too have angels.”
    â€œI’ve never met a Muslim, but I’ve read of them. I didn’t know they also have angels in their religion. It just shows you people are more alike than they