Free Zahrah the Windseeker by Nnedi Okorafor-Mbachu Page A

ago we'd been OK; then things had suddenly changed. We didn't move as the three men approached us.
    They were obviously workers from the farms. They wore the light but tough tan jump suits made of palm fibers that protected them from tree branches and the heat. We'd learned about the farmers in school. Though they wore plain and often dirty clothing, we saw them as courageous heroes. They worked right next to the jungle, risking their lives daily. And so, as Dari and I stood there and they approached us, we were also struck by a sense of awe.
    Their faces were dark like the midnight sky. My mother is very dark and so am I. But these men spent all their time in the very top of the oil-palm trees being baked by the sun as they watered and preened delicate oil sprouts. They were black like shadows. And not surprisingly, their skin glistened and their jump suits were damp with tree oil. They each carried around their shoulders a sling made from hundreds of enriched palm fibers that they used for climbing trees. And a machete hung from their waists. They also had tags with their names and work numbers sewn on their jump suits.
    "We're ... just walking, " Dari said.
    The men laughed, looking both of us up and down. How silly we must have seemed to them. Silly and childish and disobedient.
    "You know where you are? You lost your mind? Eh?!" the tallest one, named Tabansi, said with narrowed eyes.
    "Methinks they have, yes," said the one named Kwenu.
He carried a large lunch pod. He addressed us directly. "Tabansi, let's just report 'em and be on our ways,
o.
" He rubbed his oily meaty arms with his hands and swatted at a fly. "We don't have much time for our break!"
    Tabansi reached into his jump-suit pocket and pulled out a net phone. The one named Iwene looked at us both as he brought a chewing stick out of his pocket.
    "Never seen such stupid children," he grumbled, putting the stick between his teeth.
    "Now wait a second," Dari said quickly. "OK, we know where we are."
    I stared at him, but he didn't look at me. He just kept talking. Really fast.
    "We're just curious. We've heard so much about the Greeny Jungle and we wanted to see for ourselves. Is that so wrong? I mean, really? We don't plan to go that far. We just want to see it. How many people do you see here? None, right? Other than you farmers who know this place like the back of your hands. So why report two kids who are curious? We won't be long. We just want to see for ourselves. Surely you must understand. I mean, you get to see the jungle every day. At least from close up in the farms. Please don't report us. If you like, we'll turn around and leave right now."
    The three men just stared at Dari. In confusion, with humor, or impatience—I don't know. But something sparked their attention.
    "Tell me your name," Iwene asked, his chewing stick hanging from the side of his mouth. He brought it out, looked at its chewed frayed end, and then rubbed his teeth with it as if it were a toothbrush.
    Dari hesitated. I could feel his indecisiveness.
    Iwene snapped his fingers. "Ah, ah, come on. We don't have all day. Speak up."
    "D-Dari," he said finally.
    Iwene looked at Dari for a moment longer, then he smiled and nodded.
    "You, dada girl?"
    "Zahrah," I said, following Dari's choice to tell the truth. I figured since he gave his real name, I might as well, too. We would both get in trouble.
    "A mile from here is your death, you know," Iwene said.
    "Iwene!" Tabansi said. "Don't—"
    "Don' scare 'em?" Iwene asked. "And why not? Might as well know what they getting into."
    "True, true," Kwenu said. "If they not scared now, they going to be once they get in there."
    Iwene stepped up to us and cocked his head. Dari only flared his nostrils, maintaining eye contact with the man.
    "We can tell you stories that will keep you awake at night. And these aren't made-up stories. No, no. These really happen. Look at me. I been working in the oil-palm farms since seventeen. Over twenty