Lagoon

by Nnedi Okorafor

“Look, Brother Chris, women are . . . weak vessels. It is identified in the Bible. Your Adaora is a highly educated biologist but she’s no different from the others. She could not change herself if she tried.” He chuckled and sipped his wine. Then he laughed loudly. “Kai! But your wife is a tough one, o!” “You really think she’s a witch?” Chris asked. “I do, Brother Chris,” he said. “A marine witch, the worst kind. Look at her knowledge of the water. But don’t worry, no shaking, o,” he said, chuckling. “My church is powerful. It is my job to handle such things.”

I was trying to subdue her and suddenly I could not move! I was pinned to the floor like a goat for sacrifice!”

“TWO! And there was . . . there was another. Another witch! She changed right before my eyes!” “Eh, Brother Chris, slow down,” Father Oke said, trying hard not to laugh at this sorry lamb of his flock. “It is imperative to fast, to purge your wife’s witchcraft from your body. But you’ve been fasting so much, of late, and . . . perhaps you are not seeing what you think you’re seeing?”

Adaora shivered. If there was any strong hint of the alien in Ayodele’s appearance, it was in her eyes. When Adaora looked into them, she felt unsure . . . of everything. A college friend of hers used to say that everything human beings perceived as real was only a matter of the information their bodies recorded. “And that information isn’t always correct or complete,” he said. Back then, Adaora had dismissively rolled her eyes. Now, she understood. “You have named me Ayodele. You people will call me an alien because I am from space, your outer heavens, beyond. I am what you all call an ambassador, the first to come and communicate with you people. I was sent. We landed in your waters and have been communicating with other people there and they’ve been good to us. Now we want your help.”

The only thing she hadn’t really liked was bread.

“Did you bring me, Agu and Anthony together? Was that a coincidence? Why do all our names start with A?”

I KNEW IT

“It was not a coincidence,” Ayodele said. “I am an ambassador. I know—” “Wait a minute!” Agu jumped up and rushed over. “Did you make all that happen so we’d all be there at the same time? Did you make my superior and the others attack that girl? Did you make me—” “We are change,” Ayodele calmly responded “The sentiments were already there. I know nothing about those other things.”

“No. But my husband and I have some . . . serious problems that I wouldn’t blame Ayodele for in a million years. Would you really hold her responsible for your fellow soldiers, your ahoa, behaving that way? Think hard about it. They acted on impulses already present in their minds. And the other thing that happened . . . was it her fault? Maybe it was yours.”

“And what do your people need?” “Nothing. We have chosen to live here.” “Here on . . . earth?” “Here.” “The land?” “Your land.” “Africa?” “Yes.” “So you are all over the continent?” “No.”

just like settlers just chose to live there? they came and, despite being many but not overcoming them in numbers, they did overcome them

“Why Lagos? Why the water?” Adaora asked. Ayodele shrugged. “These seemed good places for us.”

“We can work with you people,” Ayodele said. “And we will. We’re coming.” Adaora stepped around and stood before the camera, looking into its eye. “Nine January, 6.39 a.m. You heard it directly from the horse’s mouth. One is here, the rest are coming.” She switched the camera off.

over. His brain simply couldn’t hold the fact that a holy man could and wanted to afford such a vehicle. Ahmed Ubangiji was a Muslim and lived ten minutes away with his two wives and five children. He had nothing against Christians or any other people of the world. But a bishop displaying such extravagance seemed wrong.

“The mystery deepens hours after a sonic boom sounded somewhere off the waters of Bar Beach,” the newscaster said. “The military cannot locate a source for the noise. Since the incident, however, and equally as mysterious, the sea level continues to rise. So far, it has risen over seven feet above its normal level. Lagos lagoon is filling up, and people’s homes, roads and the beaches have flooded. Neither the military nor scientists have any answers at the moment.”

“I don’t know why I’m still here,” he muttered to no one. “I should have left early this morning.” “It’s because you can’t,” Agu said.

If there was one thing she knew about Father Oke, it was that he was a smooth-talking predator. She couldn’t keep him from her husband, but she would keep him from her children . . . and Ayodele.

“You’re a child of God.” “And you are God?” she asked. He chuckled. “God speaks through me.” Adaora snorted, crossing her arms over her chest.

said, “And how can we make peace when you are constantly meddling? You instruct him to starve himself like someone who does not have food! You convince him of your twisted nonsense.” She stepped closer and Father Oke stepped back. “How does him slapping me in the face bring peace, Father? Eh? How can a man slap his wife ‘in the name of Jesus’? You instructed him to do so! You think I didn’t see your email to him a week ago? ‘Break her with your hands, then soften her with flowers.’”

“Are you a witch?” he asked. “Will you slap her if she says yes?” Adaora snapped. She inhaled deeply, put her hands on her hips and walked to the other side of the room. If she didn’t step away she knew she’d do something she’d regret. “Why does this matter so much to you?” Ayodele asked Oke. “Because I can help you.” Father Oke stepped closer. “I’m trained to help you control your evil, to find grace and salvation and goodness.” “See?” Chris insisted. “She doesn’t deny it. I saw her change. She—” “You didn’t come here to ask me about witchcraft,” Ayodele said to Father Oke, ignoring Chris. “You have other things on your mind.” “What do you want?” Adaora loudly asked Father Oke from across the room. “People like you always want something.”

“I am not a witch, I am alien to your planet, I am an alien,” Ayodele said in the voice of Father Oke’s recently deceased mother. “We change. With our bodies, and we change everything around us.”

“What?” Chris asked, perplexed. He’d come for a witch-hunt, not a baptism. “But that doesn’t—” “Chris, can’t you see?” Father Oke said, now completely enthralled by the sound of his own voice. He was on a roll. “I have been chosen to bring this creature and all of her kind into the light!”

crafty. At the moment, he was making most of his money from 419 scams on his computer, but Philo knew this was only temporary. She was certain that Moziz was meant to be somebody, just like his name implied. The actual spelling of his name was “Moses” but he’d changed it because he thought it sounded cooler.

did not know who was attacking Nigeria, and how government offices and facilities were closed for the day. “Please, all of you, come,” Ayodele said, sitting beside Adaora. They couldn’t leave now. There would be checkpoints. And checkpoints were potential trouble; Agu knew this best. Ayodele didn’t seem bothered. “You three were chosen,” Ayodele said. “You made sense. I know we’ve made the right choice.”

“Adaora, you understand water,”

“You’ll soon also understand something about yourself, and what’s to come. You can explain.”

“You come from a family of yam farmers, they are the salt of the earth to you. They represent the heart of Nigeria. You joined the army to protect them. Now you understand your army is corrupt. You need a people to join.”

“And you have a direct connection to your country’s leader, your president. Your superior is his relation and can reach him quickly.”

“You are a communicator, like us,”

“You spent the most time with the Elders. You’ve heard their song. Even I can’t imagine what you’ve learned.”

But he felt Moziz was right, what he’d seen in the video was just a woman. She looked like a slightly older version of his sister, even. She had to be harmless. She’d be easy to kidnap.

Jacobs didn’t like the idea at all. If the woman was an alien who could shape-shift, she wasn’t just a woman. And maybe that made her dangerous. However, Jacobs did like the idea of getting rich. It was about time.

She just woman; she no dey harm.”

He felt the rage rise in him before he could control it. This . . . this common piece of female trash in his glorious church had the nerve to admit to the greatest sin! To his face! In front of his swollen congregation!

Some shouted about how it was all coming to pass. Whatever “it” was, only they knew.

Some blamed the Muslims of the north. Others blamed the Americans. Al-Qaeda. Sickness. The British. Bad luck. Devils. Poverty. Women. Fate. 419. Biafra. The bad roads. The Military. Corruption.

The others began to join her. Maybe it was to drown out her awful voice or maybe it was a show of true solidarity. It didn’t matter. Soon the entire church was singing their support for Father Oke. Everyone except Chris.

It was a room for relaxing. Not for thinking about the end of the world as one knew it.

Adaora was beginning to see why Ayodele’s people had chosen the city of Lagos. If they’d landed in New York, Tokyo or London, the governments of these places would have quickly swooped in to hide, isolate and study the aliens. Here in Lagos, there was no such order.

Yet and still, the country had vigorous life. Everybody wants to leave Lagos, she thought. But nobody goes. Lagos is in the blood. We run back to Lagos the moment we step out, even though we may have vowed never to come ba...

And Adaora had to go where she was needed.

“Are you really an alien?” Kola asked. Ayodele closed her book and looked at Kola. “By your definition, yes.” “Well, how come you look human?” “Would you rather I didn’t?” “Why not appear as yourself?” “Human beings have a hard time relating to that which does not resemble them. It’s your greatest flaw.”

truth has been spoken

In cartoons, even the animals who could talk also had to look human.

“I know what your boyfriend is planning and I know why you told him about me,” Ayodele said. “In the end, only you can make yourself happy. Finish school. Forget him.”

The two were the presidents of one of the only LGBT student organizations in Nigeria, the Black Nexus.

“Then it was a woman. That same woman in the video. She dove back in the water and seconds later I saw a huge wave go after these three people on the beach, one woman and two men, I think. I couldn’t see them that well. They ran, but the water . . .”

“Like in that old American movie . . . I forget the name. When are aliens ever not evil?” “E.T.?” Rome said.

“Well, how do you know they didn’t bring them back?” Seven said carefully. “I heard that noise and I saw those people get taken. That’s all I needed to see.” “Let me see it again,” said Rome.

Rome saw the rise of Rome.

“We’ve been hiding for too long. Tell me you don’t feel it. This is it. This is revolution.”

“Thank you for stepping in front of my husband.” Agu smiled tiredly. “I was already beaten up. I had nothing to lose.” Adaora laughed, still holding his hand. “Is that the only reason?” He grasped hers now. “Thank you for cleaning the cut on my face,” he said. He leaned forward and she did not lean away. It was a sweet kiss. So sweet that neither of them noticed the car that slowly drove by on Agu’s side.

“In less than twenty-four hours my life has fallen apart,” she whispered. “It’s the alien’s fault,”