After Anatov left for his meeting, they were free until eleven P.M. There were things to buy, the possibility of a soccer match, and a social for the students. But they had just witnessed death. And then something beyond death. They returned to the same booth where they’d bought lunch and ordered glasses of very weak sweet palm wine. It was the only type the vendors would sell to anyone underage. The four of them sat in brooding silence and sipped their drinks.
“Let’s cheer up some,” Chichi said suddenly. “Come on. We’re in Abuja with no parents. It’s barely two o’clock!” She pinched Sunny’s thigh, and after a moment, Sunny smiled. “Okay, okay,” she said, pushing Chichi’s hand away.
“Man, this place is wild,” Sasha said, looking around. Someone stood on a box, belting out a song in Arabic. A man walked by on shiny red metal stilts, trying to make children laugh. A group of old women and men was at a table arguing as they threw down cards. “I’ll bet there’s a lot we could get into if we just look around. Where’s that art fair?”
“Somewhere that way,” Orlu said, pointing toward the man on stilts. “And we’re not going to ‘get into’ anything while we’re here.”
“Yo, you need to relax,” Sasha said, annoyed.
A boy of about nine walked up to their table. “Either of you want to join the football match?” He spoke only to Orlu and Sasha.
“Yeah,” Sasha said. “Put me on the list. Name’s Sasha.” He pointed to Sunny. “Put her on, too.”
The boy frowned. “I don’t think-”
“You don’t think what?” Sasha asked, leaning menacingly toward the boy.
The boy looked adequately scared. “Well… she’s a girl.”
“So?”
“What about him?” the boy said, pointing at Orlu. “He can play instead.”
“Nah, man,” Sasha said. “Put her name down. If they ask you, just say she’s a dude. My name’s girly, and I’m a guy. So same with ‘Sunny,’ you hear? We’ll deal with the consequences when the time comes, not you.”
“O-okay,” the boy said, writing her name on the list.
“When’s the game?” Sasha asked.
“In an hour,” he said. He reached into his satchel. “Here are your uniforms. You’ll be on the green team.”
“Woohoo!” Sunny yelped when the boy had left. “I can’t wait!”
They both went to the public restrooms to change. She was glad to get out of her dressy clothes and take off her earrings. Thankfully, she’d worn sandals; if she’d worn dress shoes, she’d have had to play barefoot. She ran out to Orlu and Chichi and kicked her leg up as if she were scoring the biggest goal ever. “Gooooooooooal!” she shouted. “I hope they let me play.”
“Sasha will scare them into it,” Chichi said confidently.
“Maybe not,” Orlu said. “The guys you’ll be playing will be older. I’ve seen the football match. They’re impromptu, but brutal.”
“What do you mean, brutal?” Sunny asked, frowning.
“Not like wrestling,” Orlu quickly said. “Brutal like a good football match.”
She relaxed some and shrugged. “I’m playing. I don’t care.”
“You sure are,” Sasha said, throwing his rolled-up clothes on the bench and sitting down.
“Well, I can’t wait,” Chichi said. “I’ve never seen you play.”
“I’ve never really played,” she said, smiling. “I mean, I’ve played with my brothers, but only after dusk. I’ve been itching to play for years. I don’t care if it’s against boys or if they stick me in defense. I want to be out there.”
“Oh, you’re not gonna be our defense,” Sasha said. “We’ve kicked the ball around some. You’ve got killer footwork and aim. You’re playing center forward.”
“Center forward?” she exclaimed. She laughed. “Please. They’ll never-”
“Let me handle it,” Sasha said. “You just prove me right.”
Sunny and Sasha decided to go for a warm-up jog and see if they could meet up with the other players.
“We’re going to check out some of the shops,” Chichi said. “We’ll see you on the pitch.” Orlu slapped and grasped Sunny’s hand, then did the same to Sasha. “Be cool.”
The game was in the same field as the wrestling match. Sunny didn’t like the idea of playing soccer where someone had just died. Still, when they got there, everything from the match was already cleared away; it looked as if nothing had happened. A boy was walking around the goals inspecting the bright, crisp white lines.
“Wow,” she said, looking over the field. “The lines look so perfect.”
“They have a little machine to help,” Sasha said. “Let’s jog.”
After the first lap, she realized the field was really uneven. There were rocks sticking out and small holes probably made by snakes or rodents. This was going to be a challenge for everyone, not just her.
“Who’s your favorite soccer player?” Sasha asked as they jogged.
“Pele,” she said. “You know, during the Biafran War-that’s the Nigerian civil war back in the sixties-the Nigerian and Biafra sides stopped fighting for two days to watch him play.”
“Really?”
“Yep. As one man, he stopped all the killing. He was that good.”
“So you like playing forward, like he did?”
“Well, as far as I know,” she said. “I haven’t had much real experience.”
“I wish we had a ball to kick around,” he said.
“You know, I think I saw a tungwa floating around over there,” she said. They both laughed so hard they had to slow down.
More boys joined them as they ran. Nobody spoke, but those in white uniforms congregated at one side of the field, those wearing green at the other. An audience slowly gathered, too. Most of them were teenagers.
“Green team over here!” a tall guy said. He looked about seventeen, and wore a green uniform and nice soccer shoes, one of which he rested on a beat-up ball.
“Hey,” Sunny said to Sasha as they walked over. “He was on our funky train.”
Sasha raised his eyebrows.
“I hit him in the head by accident with my bag when we were getting on. He’s Igbo.” And gorgeous, she added to herself.
He had a clipboard. The boy who had taken their names stood behind him. He made eye contact with Sunny and quickly looked away.
“My name is Godwin,” the older boy said in English. “I’m team captain this year.” He paused. “Do you all understand me? Who understands English?”
Everyone raised a hand except for three boys.
“No English?” Godwin asked them.
“Français,” one of the boys said.
The boy next to him nodded and said, “Oui, je parle Français, aussi.”
“Moi aussi,” the third boy said.
She wondered where they were from. They didn’t seem to know each other, so most likely they were from three different French-speaking African countries.
“I speak French,” a stocky boy of about fifteen spoke up.
“Good,” Godwin said. “What’s your name?”
“Tony.”
Godwin nodded. “Translate. I’m going to call off names- tell me where you’re from and your age.” As Tony translated, Godwin looked at his clipboard. “Mossa?”
One of the French speakers stepped forward.
“My name is Mossa and I’m from Mali,” Tony translated. “I’m twelve years old.”
Godwin looked the boy over. He kicked the ball to Mossa.
“Dribble it and then kick it into the goal as hard as you can. Aim it into the left side,” Godwin said.
Tony translated. Mossa jumped into action. When he dribbled the ball, he almost tripped over it. He kicked it with all his might and it flew over the right side of the goal, along with his shoe.
Sunny pinched Sasha’s arm as they both tried not to laugh. A few of the taller boys held nothing back and bellowed with laughter. Mossa looked embarrassed and quickly ran to get the ball and his shoe.
“Kouty?” Godwin said.
“I’m from Nigeria,” he said. “I’m fourteen years old.”
“Good to see you again.” Godwin looked him over. “I know how you play. What do you want to play this year?”
“Goalkeeper.”
Godwin laughed and shook his head. “Position’s filled. What else?”
“Center-back.”
Godwin nodded. “That’s what I had in mind.” He looked at his clipboard. “Sasha?”
Sasha pushed through his teammates and stood before Godwin with a smirk on his face. “I’m from the United States of America. I’m fourteen.”
Godwin looked him over. “What are you doing in Nigeria?”
“Parents sent me to live with family friends-to keep me out of trouble.”
“This one is going to get us slapped with penalties,” Godwin said to the rest of the team.
Everyone laughed, including Sasha. “Do what I asked Mossa to do.”
Sasha took the ball, dribbled, and then kicked it as hard as he could into the goal. It went in, but through the center instead of the left side.
“Not bad,” Godwin said, writing something down. “Agaja.”
The tallest, brawniest boy stepped forward. Sunny imagined the ground shaking with his every move. He had a shiny bald head and the most muscular legs she had ever seen. “I’m from Benin,” Agaja said in a deep voice. One of his front teeth was chipped. “I’m eighteen.”
“Dribble and kick it into the goal, right side,” Godwin said.
Agaja’s feet were lightning fast, whirling and juggling the ball, making it obey his every whim, and then POW!-he blasted it dead into the right side of the goal. They all clapped.
“That’s encouraging,” Godwin said with a grin. He looked at his clipboard and paused. “Sunny?”
She moved past the staring boys. She felt like she was in slow motion.
“Uh-uh,” Godwin said, shaking his head. “No girls.”
“Do you want to win?” Sasha cut in. “Because I’ve been watching that other team. Most of them are over sixteen. Look at them.”
They all did. Those in white were all not only older, but a lot bigger. Whoever had gone around searching for players had taken it more seriously than the boy from the green team.
“Dammit,” Godwin said. “Shouldn’t have left it to my little brother.” He gave the boy a dirty look. Godwin sucked his teeth and said, “Even less reason for a girl.”
“Why not?” she demanded.
“Because you’re a girl,” Agaja said in his monster voice. “It’s simple.” Several of the others agreed.
“So?”
“Give her the test,” Sasha said. “It’s stupid to judge without knowing what you’re judging.”
Godwin threw the soccer ball hard at Sunny. She caught it and glared at him. Then she turned and glared at all of them. Idiots, she thought. “What do you want me to do?” she asked Godwin.
“Agaja,” Godwin said, “go stand in front of the goal. No, better yet, I will.” He handed his clipboard to his brother. “Agaja, you play defender.”
She watched Godwin walk to the goal and Agaja position himself in front of him. Her palms were sweaty. Godwin bent into a ready position. “Okay, Sunny,” he said. “Get the ball past us.”
She dropped the ball, placed her foot on it, and glanced at Sasha. He looked nervous, but nodded his head in encouragement. She began dribbling. The motion warmed and soothed her body. It felt so good to kick a soccer ball out in the open, under the sun. She dribbled, weaving left and right as she worked to avoid Agaja and move the ball toward Godwin-her feet flew faster, forward, back a half step, forward, diagonally, in a circle around the ball, faking to the right. She got the ball past Agaja and he grunted in frustration. She danced with the ball the way she danced over the tree bridge to Leopard Knocks. She felt her spirit face stir just behind her physical face. But she had her in control and kept her there.
She brought her foot back and fired the kick. The ball flew to the far right. Godwin jumped, his eyes wide, his mouth open. It was almost in. Almost. Then Godwin managed to tip it away just in time. He fell onto his side.
She slowed down, putting her hands on her hips. She looked down, ashamed that she hadn’t made the goal.
“Wow!” she heard one of the team members say, impressed.
She looked up.
“Man!” another cried. “Ah-ah, you see that?”
One of the French speakers excitedly said something in French.
Agaja patted her on the shoulder. “Not bad.”
Godwin rose. He walked up to Sunny and just stared.
“See?” Sasha said, grinning.
“Yeah,” he said, taking the clipboard from his brother. “Okay.”
Sunny was all smiles. “I’m almost thirteen,” she said. “And I’m-I was born in America, but both my parents are Nigerian and I’ve lived in Nigeria since I was nine.…”
“So you’re Nigerian?” Godwin said, frowning, unsure what to write down.
“No,” Sasha said. “American.”
“Whatever you want to put,” she said. She was just glad to play.
There were eleven of them in all. Godwin was goalkeeper. Sasha was assigned center half. Sunny was center forward. Her accomplices, the left and right wings, were the two other best and oldest and biggest boys on the team, Ousman and Agaja. As they stretched, she looked up and was surprised at the size of the audience that had gathered. It was huge- almost the size of the one for the wrestling match.
“Hey, Godwin. You ready?” the other team captain asked.
“Yeah,” he said. “Give us two minutes.”
They huddled. “Everyone here?” Godwin asked.
They all said, “Yes.”
“The other team looks like they’re all seventeen- and eighteen-year-olds who ate steroids with their fufu,” Godwin said. Those of them who could understand laughed. Tony translated for the French speakers and then they laughed, too.
“Doesn’t matter,” Godwin said. “Just looking at our center will distract the hell out of them. No offense, Sunny.”
“None taken,” she said. A thought crossed her mind. Are they going to use juju in the match? And if not, what of natural abilities? Her natural abilities would be useless. How could she kick a soccer ball while invisible?
“They’re going to play dirty,” Godwin said. “So if you have to, do the same. We’ll use an attack formation, so threethree-four. Sasha, you’re going to be up there with Sunny, Agaja, and Ousman when you need to be.” He paused. “For those of you who are new to this, you can’t use juju in the Zuma Football Cup. If you do, we’ll all get disqualified. And you can’t use your natural mystical abilities. This is football, Lamb style.”
A few team members groaned, the French speakers groaning seconds after Tony translated. Sunny had never been so relieved.
“Stop moaning!” Godwin snapped. “Buck up. This is real.”
“We’re ready,” Agaja said. He hadn’t groaned at all.
“I’m definitely ready,” Sasha said.
Sunny slapped hands with Ousman. Godwin held a hand out and they all took it.
“For the Zuma Football Cup!” he shouted.
“For the Zuma Football Cup!” they shouted back.
The referee stood in the middle of the field with a pad of paper and stick of chalk. He was drawing a series of loopy symbols that apparently meant: I will not use juju or my Leopard abilities. Both teams faced each other.
“Do you all know the rules?” the referee asked loudly.
“Yes,” they chorused.
“Each of you step up and seal it.”
Everyone crowded in and the referee watched closely to make sure that each player pressed a thumb to the center of the symbol.
“You won’t like the result if you break this pact,” he told everyone. “So don’t even try.”
All the players ran to their positions for the kickoff. The white team had won the coin toss, so Sunny stepped into the center circle as the green team stepped back.
“The players are getting in position,” an amplified young female voice said. Sunny saw the commentator in the front of the audience. “It seems that the green team will play the ball forward first. Not since fifteen years ago when Onyeka Nwankwo played for the green team has a girl participated in the Zuma Cup. But this albino girl is certainly the first ever to play center forward! What excitement we are having on this warm Zuma Festival Day!”
“What is this?” the center forward for the white team asked his teammates in English. He pointed at her and turned to his teammates. “You see this?”
One of the other boys in white laughed and said something in a language she didn’t understand. Two other boys in white laughed hard, too. There was a rise in the chatter from the audience. She was used to ridicule, but this hurt more than usual. This wasn’t just about her being albino, this was about her being a girl-an ugly girl. Stupid boys. Stupid, blockhead, idiot boys, she thought.
“Hey, Godwin, who said ghosts could play?” the boy in front of Sunny loudly asked.
Godwin only shook his head, hunkering down into position. The white team’s center was about to say something else when he suddenly fell backward. Behind her, Sasha laughed hard. “Asshole,” Sasha said, putting a pouch of juju powder back into his pocket. Sunny grinned.
“Ibou, are you all right?” the ref asked the white team’s center.
“Ibou grunted, angrily getting to his feet.
“Hey, no more of that,” the ref said, pointing at Sasha.
Sasha held his arms out. “The game hasn’t started yet.”
“Well, now it has.” The ref took out a pocket watch, put a whistle to his lips, and blew, handing the ball to Sunny.
She placed it on the center spot and took a deep breath. The moment she brought her foot back, five copper chittim fell next to Sunny, but she was too busy to care. She kicked the ball diagonally to Ousman and ran.
“And they’re off,” the commentator said. “Ousman kicks it back to Sunny. Sunny takes the ball around Ibou, the center forward from Senegal! Look at those feet!”
She remembered what Godwin said about the other team being distracted by her, and she took full advantage of the element of surprise. She dribbled the ball with speed, zigzagging around the other team and checking her peripheral vision for flashes of green. She spotted Agaja to her left. When she got close enough to the goalpost, she passed the ball to him. He took the shot. It flew in like a bullet. The crowd jumped up and shouted.
“GOOOOOOOOOAL! The green team scores!” the commentator shouted.
“Ha-ha!” she shouted, running over to Agaja and hugging him. She heard someone shout her name and saw Orlu and Chichi standing up and jumping in the front seats. She blew a kiss at them and they cheered louder: “Sunny, o! Sunny, o!!!”
The other team barely knew what hit them. As he stepped into the center circle, Ibou looked infuriated. His nostrils flared like a bull’s. Sunny glared right back at him. Adrenaline was blasting through her veins. Have to move really quick now, she thought. He’s going to try to hurt me.
But she wasn’t afraid. She was playing soccer in the sun with other players and she was good. She knew the minute that ball had dropped. She wasn’t just good at kicking a ball around, she was good at playing with a team. “I’ve had your chittim given to your friends over there for safekeeping,” the ref told her.
She nodded, stepping away from the center circle and keeping her eye on Ibou. The ref blew his whistle as Ibou placed the ball on the center spot. He kicked it to his teammate, who dribbled it.
“Pass it back here,” Ibou roared. “Let me show this girl.” Sunny ran at Ibou as soon as he got the ball, and they scrambled for it. Ibou tried to elbow her in the ribs, but she dodged him and took the ball with her.
“And Sunny makes a fool of Ibou, again,” the commentator said.
She ran with it, looking around for the others.
“Sasha!” she shouted, passing to him. It was intercepted. They all turned and ran to the other side. The boy who took it was fast. Before she knew it, the ball was dribbled through the defensive line. Ibou elbowed Mossa as he passed and Mossa fell to the ground clutching his chest. The ref blew the whistle as Ibou passed the ball to his teammate. The boy kicked it hard toward the goal. Godwin leapt and knocked the ball out of the way. Then he ran to Mossa. “You okay?” he asked, helping the boy up.
“Sorry ’bout that,” Ibou said. Then he shook his head. “No, not really.”
By the second half, Sunny could barely think straight, she was in such ecstasy. The white team was made up of brutes, but when they weren’t hurting people, they were really good. Somehow Sunny’s team managed to hang on, down only two to three.
Godwin had them go from an attacking arrangement to a defensive one when he realized that the boys on defense were terrified of the white team. It was Godwin, Sasha, Ousman, Agaja, and Sunny who really held them together.
“Kouty, kick it out of bounds!” she shouted as she pushed past the white team player trying to block her. Kouty was surrounded by four opponents like a trapped rabbit. He kicked wildly toward Sasha. Ibou swooped in, stole the ball, and soon after the white team scored.
“Oh, no!” she said, stamping her foot. She tried to give Kouty an encouraging smile. “Nice try,” she said, and went back to the center.
“One minute left in the game,” the commentator said. “Can the green team make two goals by then? It’s doubtful, but they don’t seem ready to give up.”
“I’m certainly not,” Sunny said as she faced Ibou.
“You guys never had a chance,” Ibou said. “Girls belong on the damn sidelines.”
“Do you know what century it is?” she asked.
“What do you care about time, ghost girl?” he said.
“Trash-talking on the field, I see,” the commentator remarked. “One of the richest traditions of the Zuma Cup. Seems we’re witnessing the creation of a new rivalry between the white and green!”
“Ey!” Sasha said to Ibou. “Why don’t you shut your mouth before I make your lips fatter?”
Ibou pointed angrily at Sasha and ran his finger across his neck.
Sasha just laughed and said, “Bring it.” He’d already fouled Ibou six times. It didn’t compare to the number of times the white team had fouled the green defensive line, all of whom were younger, smaller, and more afraid. Ibou had fouled Sunny three times and she had the bruises on her shins and cuts on her knees to prove it.
The ref blew his whistle as Sunny put the ball down. She passed it to Agaja, who passed it to Sasha, who passed it back to Sunny. Ibou immediately came at her, and the two fought for the ball. Ibou grabbed it with his foot; she put her foot on his foot and snatched the ball away. He swerved around her and took it. She shot out her foot and got it back. They went on like this for several more seconds, Ibou cursing as he fought with her. Sunny was laughing. Two members of the white team came running over to triple-team Sunny.
“Stay back!” Ibou shouted, out of breath.
“A foot battle,” the commentator said. “The albino girl against the superstar boy.”
Sunny didn’t know she could be so fast and quick. Eventually, he got it away from her and he laughed, victorious. She was so tickled with herself that she forgot to be angry.
“Sasha, stay there!” she shouted as she pursued Ibou. He was zigzagging, trying to shake her off. But she anticipated his every move. She saw her chance and snatched it from right between his legs. She took off, passing back and forth with Sasha. Most of the white team’s offensive was overconfident, so they’d left the other half of the field open. Sasha passed the ball to Agaja, who dribbled past the two remaining white defenders and then squared the ball to Sunny. She played in a perfect cross to Sasha, who slammed it in just as the ref called time.
“GOOOOOOOOAL!” the commentator shouted. Everyone cheered.
In the end, they lost three to four, but it was hard to tell. Godwin went running from his goalpost and the whole team smashed together in one big group hug. “That was amazing, o!” Godwin exclaimed.
“Did you see her?” Kouty exclaimed.
“Like Pele!” Sasha shouted.
The French speakers were shouting in French.
And chittim rained on us all.
The white team looked half as happy, and less than half as much chittim fell around them. They gathered and calmly slapped hands, turning to look at the green team celebrating its loss.
“And this year’s Zuma Cup goes to the white team, captained by Ibou Diop. We hope you enjoy your gift certificates to Fadio’s Furiously Fascinating Book Shop, located in Abuja. Congratulations to you and your scholar teachers.”