Sunny threw the book across the room. How am I supposed to read this? she thought. What a pompous, discriminating idiot of an author. If they have racism in the Leopard world, this book is so “racist” against free agents!
She sighed. The last thing she wanted was to return to Anatov still ignorant and prove the author right. As she grudgingly got up to get the book, something began to happen to it. Tiny black legs sprouted from the spine. Sunny fought hard not to flee. The legs suctioned themselves to the floor and pulled the book up, pages facing the ceiling.
Sunny scrambled to the other side of the room as the book walked back to her bed, climbed up the side, and plopped itself near her pillows. The legs retreated back into the book’s spine with a soft slurping sound. Sunny didn’t move, staring at the book, waiting for it to do something. When nothing did, she crept toward it.
Once at her bed, she slowly reached forward, planning to grab the book and fling it back across the room. When she was within an inch of it, the book flew open. She leaped back. The pages leafed this way and that. They stopped and the book opened and stretched out so flat that she could hear its spine crack. She leaned just close enough to see what it had opened to. Chapter Four: Your Abilities.
After a few minutes, she sat beside it, ready to run away if the book so much as shivered. She began to read.
This will be new to you, since you are fresh from Lamb country and have just entered the high society of Leopards. Lambs are on a constant, unrealistic, irrational, and unnatural quest for perfection. They seek to have bodies with no blemishes or disease; that do not age; that have perfect eyes, noses, and lips all in the right places; that are thin like fashion models’ or muscular like athletes’; that are tall, lacking warts, extra fingers, pimples, scars; that always smell fresh like flowers; etc. There are no Lamb cultures where people do not strive for this inferior thing called perfection, no matter their definition of it.
We Leopard folk are nothing like this.
We embrace those things that make us unique or odd. For only in these things can we locate and then develop our most individual abilities. Even you, free agent, have an ability given to you by the omnipotent, distracted Supreme Creator.
HOW TO DISCOVER YOUR ABILITY
It’s doubtful that you have the intelligence to figure out something so important. But here is something to think about: one’s ability lies with those things that mark him or her. They can be talents, like an affinity toward gardening or being able to play the guitar well. Often they are things that Lambs make fun of, imperfections. They can be physical, psychological, behavioral. And I do not mean things that are a result of your actions, like being fat because you eat too much and sit and play video games all day.
Usually someone of pure spirit will have to help you figure it out. But once you discover it, you will have to find a dedicated and patient pure spirit who is willing to help someone as needy and ignorant as you.
Once Sunny got past the book’s rude, condescending tone, she found it had plenty to teach her. She also found that the book itself was eager to be read. It made sure that it was always nearby. Sometimes it crawled onto her lap! The strange black legs were actually soft as mushroom stems, and were careful to tread lightly.
Over the next few days, when she wasn’t in school or doing homework, she was reading Fast Facts. No time for television. She focused most on Chapter Eight: Very Basic Beginner Juju. It was the juju called “Etuk Nwan” that most interested her. If she could get it to work, she would be able to leave the house for Saturday night’s meeting with Anatov. There were only four ingredients, and most of them were easy enough to collect: chamomile leaves, palm oil, some rainwater. It was the fourth that she was worried about.
The day before the big night, she stood in the sunny market with her black umbrella. She no longer needed it, but she didn’t want to draw the wrong kind of attention. “Excuse me, Miss,” Sunny said to the meat seller. “I’d like-I’d like to buy a sheep’s head.”
Her father was very fond of nkowbi, which was stew made with goat’s brain. Lots of people were, so she wasn’t doing anything unusual. And she had enough money saved up. The woman put the black sheep’s head on a piece of newspaper and wrapped it up with more newspaper.
Sunny couldn’t think of any other way to ask, so she just asked. “Is that… my, uh, father told me to make sure it was an ebett, a-a ‘sleeping antelope sheep.’” She knew her face was red with embarrassment.
“Eh?” the woman said, frowning. “What are you talking about?”
Suddenly, Sunny was very aware of her albinism. What must she have looked like, all bleached-looking and asking for something that sounded straight out of a black magic cookbook? “Oh, nothing. This-this is fine,” she said. She hoped it would be.
She got home before her parents. She had to move fast. They’d be home within the hour. Her brothers were out playing soccer. Thank goodness, she thought. Perfect. She ran to the kitchen with her package and placed it on the kitchen counter.
“Just do it,” she said to herself, rubbing her hands nervously against her shorts. “The faster, the less time to think about it.” Easier said than done. The mere thought of the sheep’s head nauseated her. She didn’t know how her father could eat goat brains or how her mother could prepare them. She took a deep breath, then, as fast as she could, unwrapped the package.
The head was black, the wool on its face a deeper black. It looked like one of her mother’s wigs. She felt another wave of nausea. Even worse, its eyes were glassy and dry. Its mouth was open, its pink-purple tongue lolling out to the side. Its yellow teeth would never chew grass again; its mouth would never be warmed by its breath.
This couldn’t be a “sleeping antelope sheep.” In the book, it said the face of a “sleeping antelope sheep” would look peacefully asleep in death. This one looked as if it had died in horror.
“Well,” she breathed. “Work with what you have.”
She had no idea how she would get out of the house if the juju didn’t work. Her brothers tended to play video games or watch movies well past midnight, even on school nights. The slightest noise brought her mother peeking into her room. If she were caught, her father would happily flog her; he’d certainly been looking for a reason lto ately. She needed this juju to work.
She grabbed a paring knife, paused, then gritted her teeth. She started scraping and cutting and gouging. The book said to use the skull, nothing else. She had to remove all the meat on and inside the skull.
Biology, she thought as she worked, breathing through her mouth. She didn’t want to smell the raw flesh. Think of biology class. She enjoyed biology, eagerly taking in the readings about microorganisms, animal systems, vertebrates, and invertebrates. Still, at the moment, she found that the less she thought about the fact that this had been a living, breathing, pooing, baaing, eating thing, the better.
It took her a half hour to remove all the hair, skin, brains, and muscle. All she needed now was to rinse it well and let it dry until nighttime. She heard her brothers outside. She cursed. The counter was a mess.
She quickly rewrapped the skull. Any moment, her brothers would burst in looking for something to eat. It was always the first thing they did when they came in. She grabbed a bunch of greens, onions, tomatoes, peppers, and spices from the fridge and threw them on the counter in front of the pile of flesh. She was taking out some dried fish when they entered.
“Afternoon,” Chukwu muttered, pushing her aside. Ugonna punched her shoulder. Neither even glanced at the counter. She smiled. Her dumb brothers never cooked. She didn’t think they even knew how! A human being who needs food to live but cannot prepare that food to eat? Pathetic. In this case, it was an advantage. They weren’t interested in any food until it had been cooked for them.
“Were you playing soccer?” she asked. They took out bottles of Fanta and a bag of chin chin.
“Yeah,” Chukwu said, wiping sweat from his face.
“We won,” Ugonna said.
“That’s good,” she said, leaning against the counter, shielding the wrapped skull and mess.
“You heard the latest news?” Ugonna asked.
She frowned and shook her head. “Black Hat got some kid in Aba.”
“What?” Aba was only a few minutes’ walk away.
“Yeah,” Chukwu said. “So don’t go out alone. If you want to go to the market, let us know.”
After they left, as soon as she heard the sound of the television, she collected herself and rinsed off the skull. She was uneasy, but determined. What better time than now to learn the Leopard ways? Some self-defense would do her good.
As she ran up the stairs to her room, she saw something red out of the corner of her eye, something weird sitting on the banister. She didn’t stop to check it out-she had to get the skull to her room. Once inside, she shut and locked the door, leaned against it, and let out a relieved breath.
The skull was still wet. It was five o’clock. Six hours and fifteen minutes before she had to meet Orlu, Sasha, and Chichi. She put the skull under her bed and picked up her purse full of chittim.
She dumped them out and counted. There were a hundred and twenty-five, including the bronze, gold, and silver ones. She put two copper and six bronze ones back into the purse and threw in her lip gloss, some tissues, a package of biscuits, pen and paper, and a few naira notes. She piled the rest of the chittim in an old rapa, tied it up, and pushed it far under her bed.
She grabbed the purse, opened the door, and peeked into the hallway. The coast was clear. She dashed outside and hid the purse behind a bush near the house gate. Then she returned to the kitchen, cleaned up the mess, and spent the next hour cooking up a spicy red stew with chicken and bits of sheep brain for her parents and brothers. Full bellies meant heavy sleep.
After dinner-which everyone, even her father, said was delicious-she took a quick shower and dressed in a pair of shorts, T-shirt, and sneakers. At ten thirty P.M., PHC took the lights and her father turned on the generator. Twenty minutes later, her brothers were playing video games and her parents had gone to bed.
It had to be done at exactly eleven o’clock. Her book said this was the most powerful hour of the night. She went over the juju charm one last time:
Etuk Nwan is very simple juju. If you can’t make this work, I feel sorry for you. Etuk Nwan will allow you to pass through standard locked doors. Make sure the door is locked.
Sunny checked her lock and brought out the sheep’s skull. It was still a little damp. She sipped her cup of rainwater, rubbed her hands with the palm oil, opened a tea bag, and sprinkled her hands with the chamomile. She sat on the floor, crossed her legs, and held the skull in her oily hands. Okay, she thought. Now to empty my mind of all thought and focus on the skull. She’d done this so often with candles that it was easy. Her watch beeped eleven o’clock. The skull was warm and heavy. Suddenly, it dropped right through her hands and clunked on the floor.
It had to be the palm oil. She tried to pick it up. The charm wouldn’t work if she wasn’t holding the skull. Her hands passed right through the skull again. She jumped up. “It worked!” she whispered, her voice echoing strangely about the room.
There was no weightless or insubstantial feeling. She felt quite normal. But when she looked in the mirror, she could see ever so slightly through her flesh. If Mama and Dad come in right now, will they see me? It didn’t matter. She needed to get out in the next few minutes. She looked at the skull sitting on the floor.
“God, I hope they don’t come in here.” She went over to the locked door. Before she could wonder what to do next, she was yanked through the keyhole. The sensation was itchy and a little painful. She came out on the other side of the door. About twenty copper chittim loudly clinked at her feet. She froze. Everyone had to have heard the noise. No one came. She tried to pick up one of the chittim. Her hand passed through it.
“Move,” she told herself. What else was she supposed to do?
She ran to the front door and passed through that keyhole, too. When she emerged outside, she felt the charm wear off. She could feel the warm air on her skin. The sound of night creatures grew louder, as if the volume around her was turned up. She snatched her purse from behind the bush and started walking as fast as she could, pushing away thoughts of Black Hat and his minions being in every car that passed by.
She found Chichi outside her hut smoking a Banga cigarette. When she saw Sunny, she smiled.
“I did it! I turned invisible!” Sunny exclaimed, jogging up to her. She started shaking uncontrollably. “I did something called Etuk Nwan.” She laughed, tears falling from her eyes. Chichi took her hand and led her to the side of the road.
“Take a deep breath,” she said, smiling.
Gradually, Sunny calmed down. “You really need to stop smoking those,” Sunny said, wiping her eyes. “Ever heard of lung cancer?”
“They relax me,” she said. “Maybe you need one.”
She shook her head. “No way. Nasty.”
“How many chittim did you get?” Chichi asked.
“I don’t know! I had to leave them in front of my bedroom door. Where does chittim come from anyway? And who drops it?”
“What I wonder is where does it go? You know, after a period of time, all chittim returns to where it came from.” She shrugged. “I guess these are not our questions to ask, really. Just our facts to accept.”
“Hey, you made it,” Orlu said, coming out of the gates of his house.
Sunny smiled and nodded.
“You guys ready?” Sasha said from right behind her. She yelped. Sasha laughed hard. He slapped hands with Chichi, who said, “Nice one.”
This time, they didn’t take a cab to Anatov’s hut. Instead, they took the strangest vehicle Sunny had ever seen. It looked like a combination of a large semitruck, a mammy wagon, and a bus. Chichi called the colorfully decorated thing a “funky train,” and they caught it on the main street.
“Just ignore the smell,” Chichi said as they climbed on.
Inside were rows and rows of beat-up red plush seats. Almost all were occupied. Sunny and Chichi sat on one side, while Sasha and Orlu sat closer to the front.
There was no roof, but when the vehicle moved, the smell of sweat, perfume, cologne, stock fish, and cooking oil hung in the air, thick and oppressive. The open top also didn’t dilute the loud hip-hop that played from huge speakers in the back, or the raucous laughter and conversation of the passengers, most of whom were their parents’ age.
Then there was Sunny’s sneezing. It started almost as soon as she sat down. And the sneezes were hard and consistent. She sneezed for the entire ride. When they finally got off, her eyes were red and her nose was sore from blowing. The driver felt so sorry for her that he only charged her one small gold chittim instead of two.
“You were sneezing like that in Anatov’s hut, too,” Chichi said. “I think you’re sensitive to juju powers. The train is filthy with it.” Sunny’s only response was to sneeze again.
She was still sniffling when they walked up to Anatov’s hut. It was lit with bright halogen lamps that smoked with and smelled of burning insects. There were several sticks of incense burning, but this time she didn’t sneeze. No juju power used in them this time, she guessed.
“Sit,” Anatov said. Tonight, he wore a blue, green, and yellow dashiki and long jean shorts.
They sat in the wicker chairs before his wicker throne. Sunny honked one more time into her tissue, sighed, and sank tiredly into her chair. It was quite comfortable. She looked at the decorated walls and spotted something. She frowned and squinted. Her eyes widened and she grabbed Chichi’s arm and pointed. “What the hell is that?” she asked. It looked like a red grasshopper the size of her hand.
“It’s a ghost hopper,” Orlu whispered. “They’re harmless.”
“You sure?” she asked. Then she blinked, realizing something. “I saw one of those at my house!”
“You could do a lot worse. Some people would love to have those instead of what they have.”
“There are more, aren’t there?” she said. “More creatures I can see now?” A tiny bronze chittim fell into her lap. She picked it up and smiled.
“Millions,” Orlu said.
“You should see the night birds in Chicago,” Sasha said. “I went up to the Sears Tower one night, that’s where you can see a lot of them. They look like small dragons.”
“No way!” she said. She’d been to the top of the Sears Tower once. It was beautiful up there.
Anatov threw himself dramatically into his throne and looked at his students. “Welcome to Leopard school, Sunny,” he said.
“Yeah, welcome,” Orlu said.
“Welcome,” Sasha said.
“It’s about time,” Chichi said.
“Thank you,” she said, blushing. “I’m glad to be here.”
Anatov clapped his hands together and grinned devilishly. “So,” he said, leaning back in his chair, “how did you do it?”
“Do what?”
“I met your parents,” he said. “I stopped by and said hello to your mother in her office at the hospital and your father at his law firm.”
“You went to see them?” She was horrified.
“Chatted with your father a bit, pretended to be one of your mother’s old patients. Intelligent, hardworking folk. But strict. Especially your mother. So how did you get out?”
“I’m albino,” she said with a sarcastic smirk. “I’m practically a ghost. What ghost can’t sneak out of a house?”
Anatov laughed. “You don’t know how close you are to the truth. At least in your very specific case. But really, how did you do it?”
“She worked an Etuk Nwan,” Chichi burst out. “From her free agent book. Isn’t that great?”
“The book said it was one of the easiest charms,” Sunny said.
“Yeah, for someone with experience,” Chichi added.
Anatov cocked his head. “What kind of sheep head did you use?”
“Well, the lady at the market looked at me like I was crazy when I asked about the ebett, the sleeping antelope. So I just got a regular sheep head.”
Anatov laughed. Even Sasha and Chichi snickered. “Yes, I strongly doubt you’ll find an ebett’s head in your local Lamb market,” Anatov said. “An ebett is an albino sheep that can sleep so deeply it gradually becomes invisible. Its spirit goes to the spirit world until it wakes. You’d never find one in a Lamb market.”
“So why’d the charm work, then?” she asked.
“You answered your own question,” Anatov said. “You’re albino. I thought you read that beginner book.”
“I did. But it’s fresh. I’m still processing-”
“Reread chapter four,” he said. “The one about one’s abilities.”
She nodded.
“I would ask these three to tell you about their abilities so you’ll get it, but it’s hard for people to talk about their own ‘bad’ qualities,” Anatov said.
“But the book said Leopard People are proud of their imperfections,” Sunny said, hoping to sound as if she knew something.
“Lesson one,” Anatov said. “And this is for all of you. Learn how to learn. Read between the lines. Know what to take and what to discard. Sunny, we don’t teach as the Lambs do. Books will be part of your learning but experience is important, too. You’ll all be sent out to see for yourselves. So you have to know how to learn. For example, that book Fast Facts for Free Agents.” He spat the title as if he had little respect for it.
“It was written by a woman named Isong Abong Effiong Isong, one of the most knowledgeable Leopard People of all time, of the world. She passed the fourth level. The problem was, for her learning experiences, she chose to move to Europe and then America, where she thought the truly civilized ideas were being knitted.”
Sasha scoffed.
Anatov nodded at him. “Exactly,” Anatov said. “You know the deal. Anyway, while there, she developed the idea that free agents like you, Sunny, are the scourge of the Earth. She believed them ignorant and misguided. You can imagine what this African woman thought of us African Americans.” He paused. “Prejudice begets prejudice, you see. Knowledge does not always evolve into wisdom.
“That said, when you read her books, you have to really read them. Be aware of her biases toward those not from her homeland and those who are not of traceable spirit.”
“So, she’d probably want to kill me,” Sunny mumbled. “I’m Nigerian, American, and a free agent.”
“What a bitch,” Chichi said.
“But useful,” Anatov emphasized. “Sunny, wade through her vile way of speaking. You’ll see that her book is good. She’s the only scholar who took the time to write a book for free agents. Just know that most Leopards as a whole don’t often consider your kind. Free agents are so rare.
“Now,” he said, slapping the arm of his chair, “the book spoke of Leopards as if we are the most confident beings on Earth and beyond. Don’t get her wrong, we are a confident people. And we do embrace those things that make us unique. However, we have insecurities and problems like any other humans.
“You all know why Sasha’s parents got fed up and sent him here to live with Orlu’s family,” Anatov said. He glanced at Sasha, who looked at his hands. “A troublemaker through and through. Though he respects his parents, he has no respect for authority. I can tell you from personal experience, to be a young black man in America with a hatred for authority is a recipe for disaster.
“You see, Sasha can remember things,” Anatov said. “He has what Lambs would call a photographic memory. He can read something and remember it word for word. On top of this, he has a lot of energy. You see the problem? He knows too much. He’s always ahead. So how do you expect him to respect just anyone? How can you expect him to sit still? This young man is like a thousand volumes of juju.
“Chichi here, she is the same. It’s rare to find two people so similar who come from different parents and countries. Chichi would never have survived at your Lamb school, Sunny. She’d have spent most of her time being punished for mouthing off. You know her; you must agree she has a big mouth.”
They all snickered.
“But like her mother, like Sasha, she can read a thousand books and remember what’s in all of them. Most people would dismiss Chichi and Sasha as disrespectful, uncouth children who can’t even get though a year of school. They’d insist they were destined to be criminals and streetwalkers. Doctors would prescribe Ritalin for their ADD and then throw their hands up, perplexed, when it didn’t work. But as Leopard children, they’re destined for great, great things. These two could probably pass their second and third levels if they were emotionally mature. Which they are not. Not even close.”
Chichi frowned deeply at this and Sasha rolled his eyes.
“Now in Orlu’s first few years of Lamb school, the teachers told his parents that he would never be able to read,” Anatov said. “When Orlu tried, the pages looked like gibberish. When he tried to write, his hand wanted to write backward or combine the letters. They said he had a learning disorder called dyslexia.”
Sunny glanced at Orlu, but he wouldn’t meet her eyes.
“The moment the teachers told Orlu’s parents this, they were elated. Orlu wasn’t too happy. He was ashamed. The influence of Lamb society is strong. But his parents knew that this was the key to what their son would be. And to have such a serious ‘disability’ meant his talent would be amazing. And it is. Orlu can undo things. Throw a juju at him and he can undo it and make it harmless or useless without ever knowing what he’s doing.
“Everyone can work juju charms, some of us better than others, but few can undo them on instinct. Once I started teaching Orlu how to hone this skill, his ability to read kicked in,” Anatov said. “When I am through with this boy, no one will be able to harm him with any kind of juju.
“And that brings us to you, Sunny.” He paused. Everyone looked at her and her skin prickled. “Your name reflects the sun, like the color of your skin, no?” He grinned. “An ugly, sickly color for a child of pure Nigerian blood. Everything about you is ‘wrong’-your eyes, your hair, your skin. Otherworldly.”
Sunny frowned but held Anatov’s eyes.
“What has the Supreme Being endowed you with, eh?” he said. “They say your kind has one foot set in the physical world and one foot in the wilderness-that’s what we call the spirit world. Do you believe you have that ‘here and there’ quality?”
“No,” she said.
“Believe it. To be Leopard and albino is often a rare gift,” he said. “Can any of you guess what she can do?”
“That’s easy,” Chichi said. “She can make herself invisible.”
“And why is that?”
“Because she has the natural ability to go into the wilderness whenever she wants. That’s what makes her invisible.”
“She can mess with time, too,” Sasha added. “For the same reason. Time doesn’t exist in the wilderness.”
“Right, but that is a more difficult skill to harness. Sunny, all these things experienced Leopard sorcerers can do. But they will need their juju knives, powders, and other items to do it. You can do these things without any of that, once you learn how.”
“Don’t forget the premonitions,” Chichi added. “That’s what happened with the candle, right, Oga?”
“Right,” Anatov said. “Because you can go into the wilderness, you are susceptible to wilderlings showing you things for whatever reason.”
“Wilderlings?” she said. Her mouth went dry.
“Creatures, beasts, and beings from the wilderness,” Anatov said.
“So, because I’m a Leopard albino, I can-”
“Yes. Certain attributes tend to yield certain talents. Very, very tall people tend to have the ability to predict the future through the stars. Very, very short people tend to make plants grow. Those with bad skin usually know and understand the weather. Abilities are things people are able to do without the use of a juju knife, powders, or other ingredients like the head of an ebett. They just come naturally.
“That’s enough for now,” Anatov said. “Orlu, Chichi, last lesson I had you go out to the street folk and talk to them. I wanted you to see them, to understand how it is they live. I had you go out with sacks of food. So?”
“We went out and helped,” Orlu said. He looked at Sasha as he said it. “But two men tried to rob us. Chichi blew lockup powder on them. We left them on the side of the street groaning with cramped muscles. We were lucky they only had knives.”
“Knives?” Sunny cried.
“But most of the people we met, they were either homeless or just too sad to go home or were trying to find home. They were happy to see us,” Orlu said. “Well, maybe they were happy to see the food we brought them.”
“They thought we were angels,” Chichi said.
“And did you sit and talk with them?” Anatov asked.
Orlu and Chichi nodded.
“What did you learn?”
“That all those people… they have stories and lives and dreams,” Orlu said.
“And that sometimes right is wrong and wrong is right,” Chichi added.
Anatov nodded, looking pleased. “Sasha, from what I understand, the scholar you worked with in the United States, José Santos, sent you and his other students backpacking from San Francisco to some small town deep into Mexico?”
Sasha nodded. “For two months. I perfected my Spanish. We were robbed three times at gunpoint…” He laughed. “It was great.”
“I met José once, years ago. I admire him,” Anatov said. “Now, you two-you four-are my students. My job is to guide you.” He looked mainly at Sunny as he said this. “You will learn about yourselves from me, you’ll learn new and old juju, and I will help you, if I can, to pass your levels. And I’ll send you out there into the world to catch your lessons. Fear? Get used to it. There will be danger; some of you may not live to complete your lessons. It’s a risk you take. This world is bigger than you and it will go on, regardless.”
What kind of thing is that to tell your students? Sunny wondered.
“Today’s lesson is camaraderie,” Anatov continued. “I want you to go and greet a friend of mine. Orlu, Chichi, you know of Kehinde.”
“What?” Sasha exclaimed. “I even know of him and I just got here. He’s one of the most brilliant juju workers in the world. Isn’t he practically a recluse?”
“Kehinde’s a close friend of mine,” Anatov said. “He’s a recluse to folks he doesn’t think are important. I was discussing you four with him yesterday. He wants to meet you.”
“Why?” Sasha asked. “Why us?”
Orlu looked aghast. “And we don’t even… we can’t go-”
“Kehinde wants to see you,” Anatov repeated. “Figure out how to get to him. That’s today’s lesson, too. Oh, and beware of some of Kehinde’s… friends. They’re a bit possessive. Give him my regards. Peace out.”
419 Scams and Leopard People
The 419 scam is an illegal practice that Nigeria has become known for all over the world because of a small group of Internet-savvy criminals. It is a pox on this great nation’s reputation; a symptom of its marrowdeep disease of corruption. If you use e-mail, you have to have seen the ones offering to pay you insane amounts of money if you help Chief or Prince So-and-So get his money out of the bank. That is an example of the billions of 419 scam e-mails sent out daily. In Nigeria, Leopard 419 scammers use a blend of Internet technology and juju to make the target individual’s electronic funds disappear and reappear elsewhere. Thankfully, even these people cannot tamper with whatever provides us with chittim. Still, Leopard 419 scammers can get up to some darker business in the Lamb world. It is believed that as we speak, some are using the Net to design a network of virus-driven juju-powered supercomputers so infectious that they could bring down the Lamb world’s biggest economies with a few pecks of the keyboard. We will speak no more of this here. If you are approached by one of these criminals, decline involvement.
from Fast Facts for Free Agents