Chapter 14

The following day felt very short. Luyanda whiled away his Sunday watching movies to keep his mind off the disturbing thoughts about the night he had touched the stool and all the things that happened afterwards. But try as he might, his eyes kept drifting back to the shadow that inched across his bedroom floor as the sun traced its circuit through the sky outside his window. He was relieved when night fell.
The next day, he was back in school again, pushing and shoving past students in the corridors to make it to his Ancient Cultures tutorial. Not that he was looking forward to it. In fact, he was all for bunking the class. Starting off a new week with two hours of Hester Bimba was asking for too much. He bumped into Nomsa, also snaking her way to the class. She took one look at his face and guessed what was running through his head.
“Don’t even think about it. You will not bunk Bimba’s tutorial. I hate her more than you do, yet you don’t see me trying to wiggle out of it, do you?”
“But you’re a dutiful and responsible student. I’m just your average joe.”
Nomsa shook her head. She wasn’t buying any of it.
“Do you really want to make an enemy out of someone who could influence your life for the next five years?” she asked, as they entered the lecture room.
“You mean four.”
“The way you’re going, it might even be six.”
Luyanda was glad that he had followed Nomsa’s suggestion because Bimba entered the tutorial room with a frown on her face a few seconds after Luyanda and Nomsa had taken their seats. She put her bags down and returned to the door, scowling, just as Jabu raced in, clutching his backpack in and hand and a lunch box in the other. She levelled him with an icy stare and then turned the latch in the door. Luyanda glanced at his PAD. There was still one minute to go. Within moments, a hapless student’s face appeared at the glass pane of the door. She peered into the classroom and knocked a few times.
“Go away,” Bimba shouted. “You’re late.”
“But they’re not,” Luyanda whispered into Jabu’s ear. “They’re actually right on time.”
“Rather them than us, my friend,” he replied sagely.
Bimba explained to them that their main project that semester would be a presentation on the “Influence of Immigration on Oral Literature in the African Diaspora.” She split them up into groups and allotted each team a different century. The first group would look at the twenty-second century. The second would study the twenty-first, and the third would present on the twentieth century. The fourth got assigned Pre-colonial Africa. Much to his disappointment, that was where Luyanda ended up.
“Because the fourth group will do more work,” Bimba announced, “it will have more members. Imtiaz Nair, Luyanda Michaels, Gina Sachs, and Emeka Umuotek. Questions?”
Nomsa raised her hand. Bimba eyes swept right past her and scoured the rest of the classroom.
“Good. Seeing as there are no queries, we will continue. This project will count for thirty percent of your grade this semester, so you’d better be serious about it and get started now. If you leave it until the last minute, mark my words, you will fail.”
Nomsa cleared her throat and waved her hand around.
“What?” Bimba snapped.
“For our group, there is very little written material. Where are we supposed to get the information?”
“Oh,” Bimba answered, a sneer spreading across her face, “I thought you were the expert on research methods. I’m sure you’ll figure something out.”
Nomsa sank back in her chair, folded her arms and frowned.
“That’s all for the tutorial. You can meet in your teams now and get going with your projects.” With that, Bimba picked up her bags, unlatched the door and stalked out. The students gathered together in their respective groups and started discussing their assignments. Luyanda formed a huddle with Gina, Imtiaz and Emeka.
“I have no clue how to go about this one, guys,” Imtiaz said. “I don’t know where Bimba is expecting us to pull the data from.”
“We’re just going to have to slog it out,” Gina replied. “Find and exhaust every available source. I suggest we split up. I’ll handle online research. Imtiaz, you do the recommended readings. Luyanda - you can hunt through the unrecommended readings in the library. She turned towards Emeka. “Meks. I don’t know. Maybe you can interview some lecturers or something? Keita comes to mind. That way we cover all our bases. What do you think?”
“Great plan,” Imtiaz nodded, impressed.
“I won’t have the time, guys,” Emeka said. “We just got handed a big project in programming, and that’s my major. African History isn’t. So if I could get something a bit lighter, I’d appreciate it.”
“And what about us that work in the museum?” Luyanda asked, sticking a finger in Emeka’s face.
“That was your decision.”
“And doing History wasn’t yours?”
“So the two of you think we don’t have lives?” Gina asked.
The conversation degenerated into an argument. After twenty minutes of bickering, they hit upon a solution that worked for everybody. Emeka would do the final compilation and creation of the report, and Luyanda would take over doing the interviews.
“But they’re not a priority,” Gina consoled him. “It’s just a Plan B in case you find nothing useful in the library.”
Luyanda was not at all pleased with this arrangement, but he accepted it because he didn’t want to spend any more time arguing.
“You owe me one,” Luyanda told Emeka as they walked out of the tutorial room and made their way to their next lectures.
But after a few days, Luyanda regretted his decision. The library research was far more than he had thought it would be. He had to juggle his schedule to fit in the project, his museum shifts and his normal lessons. He spent the little free time he had browsing through the hard copy books in the library’s restricted area. His first few forays proved fruitless, but he stuck at it, sure that he would find something eventually. But as the days went by, and the pile of books he had not yet scanned was thinning, he lost hope. He realised that he would have to rely on Plan B: face-to-face interviews with the lecturers. And that would take even more time.

The first lecturer that came to mind was Keita. Luyanda decided to pull him aside and ask him for a favour at the end of their next lecture. He was quite surprised when he walked into the auditorium and found Bimba setting her bags down on the floor.
“I’ll be taking this class,” she announced, “because Professor Keita is out of town attending a conference.” A collective sigh went up. Bimba ignored it and smirked. “I hope you have all made good progress on your group assignments?” she said in a sarcastic tone. “In fact, I am thinking we should have a preliminary presentation next week, just to see how far everyone is. And to make sure you are all working.”
Another groan rippled through the class. Bimba grinned and launched into the lesson. At the end of the lecture, Luyanda called his group aside and informed them of his predicament.
“We won’t have enough to present the first time around then,” Gina said with a shrug. “I’ve found some stuff, but it’s not a lot. I don’t think it’s even one slide’s worth.”
“Send it to me and I’ll fluff it up,” Emeka offered.
“How much do you have, Imtiaz?” Luyanda asked.
“Not much either,” he answered. “I’m in the same boat as Gina. Pre-colonial records are ridiculously hard to find. We’re pulling teeth here.”
“It’s a pity that Keita’s out of town,” Emeka said, “One hour with that man would get us all the info we need.”
“When will he be back?” Gina asked.
“Next week,” Luyanda replied. “I think. At least that’s what his out—of-office responder said.”
“That won’t help,” Gina said. “The tutorial’s the day after tomorrow.”
“Can’t we just explain the situation to Bimba?” Emeka asked. “I’m sure she’ll understand.”
“You go ahead and try,” Gina replied, scowling, “You know what Bimba’s like.”
Luyanda had been silent throughout the exchange. An idea was forming in his mind.
“You know what?” he said, glancing around the group, eyes gleaming with determination. “I said I’d get the information from the lecturers, and I will, come what may. Leave it to me. I’ll update you guys soon.” He grabbed his backpack and stalked out of the lecture-room.
Luyanda’s plan was simple. The last time he was in Keita’s office, he had noticed a massive shelf lined with books. He was sure that at least one or two of them would contain the information he needed. He had avoided merging with a shadow again, after he had done it that fateful night when he first touched the stool. His gut told him that his newfound ability wasn’t something to be toyed with, but only to be used in times of great need. And what greater need could there be than passing an assignment?
As he sat through another boring lecture with Flannegan, he decided that that afternoon would be the best time to execute his plan. The shadows along the corridors of the departmental offices would be at their longest. All he needed was a brief window of time - fifteen or twenty minutes - during which to execute his daring break-in. That’s how he liked to think of it. It made him feel adventurous.
He checked his schedule on his PAD. Dr Kanu’s class was straight after Flannegan’s. Kanu was such a nice lady that Luyanda knew that if he were late for or missed her class altogether, nothing would happen.
“Hey, Lu! Wait up!” Jabu called after him, as Luyanda slung his bag across his shoulder and bounded towards the door as soon as the lesson ended.
Luyanda picked up his pace as Jabu caught up with him.
“What’s the hurry?”
“I’m on a top-secret mission,” Luyanda answered. “I’ll tell you about it later.”
“Sure,” Jabu replied, giving him a confused look. “Just don’t get yourself killed.”
Luyanda forced a laugh and spun on his heel. He went up the two flights of stairs and tiptoed onto the walkway that led to the departmental offices. The passage was lined with doors, each with a little glass pane looking into the offices behind them. He took a deep breath. Most of his lecturers lurked around that corridor. A door swung and a tall, balding man stepped out. He glanced at Luyanda, gave him a curt nod, and strolled down the hallway.
Luyanda breathed a sigh of relief. He didn’t know what he would have said if Dean Musa had asked him where he was going or who he was looking for. He continued down the passageway and stopped when he came to the door with a little plaque bearing Keita’s name. He turned the doorknob. It didn’t budge.
He took one look up and down the corridor. The coast was clear. Then he peered in through the door pane. There was a potted plant sitting on the windowsill, soaking up the rays of the sun. The pot cast a long narrow shadow along the office’s tiled floor. He stared hard at the shadow, narrowing his gaze and focusing his attention on the straight, dim lines cutting across the floor. He placed his palms on the door, and felt the cool, dark, inviting strip of shadow running along on the floor underneath it. The next moment, he was gliding beneath the door, along the tiles, and into the office. He re-emerged on the other side and stepped out onto the floor. His body expanded with a pop, and he keeled over and sucked in a mouthful of air.
He crossed over to the shelf and ran his finger across the spines of the books lining it. There were several titles there. “Pre-Colonial Government Structures in The Sudan”; “Sand and Memories: The Scrolls of Timbuctoo”; “The Legacy of the Ashanti Kings”; “Women and Warriors.”
None of them seemed to be what he was looking for. He noticed that some volumes didn’t have proper spines or covers on them. He swore under his breath and started flipping through each. At that moment, footsteps pounded down the passage outside. He froze and listened. Keys jangled in the lock. Luyanda barely had time to melt into the vague shadow the bookcase cast on the wall when the door swung open and Keita stepped into his office.
He set his briefcase down on his desk and proceeded to the window. As he walked past the bookshelf, he paused and frowned. Luyanda gulped. Keita’s eyes narrowed. His gaze drifted to the shadow against the wall. Luyanda forced himself to calm down. He knew there was no way anyone could see him.
“Whoever you are,” Keita said, “I’m sure you’d be far more comfortable in a seat.”
Luyanda froze. Keita walked over to his desk and flipped the switch on the study lamp.
“I said, you can come out now.” He picked up the light and directed its beam straight at the shadow on the wall. Luyanda squirmed beneath the warm beam of light that surged over him and shielded his face from the brilliant glare. Against his will, his chest expanded, and he felt his feet hit the floor with a thud.
He looked up into Keita's icy grey eyes and gulped back a wave of panic.

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