Atieno hid on the rooftop. The Nairobi night smelled like petrol and fear. A Juju Lord staggered out of the bar. His shadow was fat and weak. It would scream when she stole it. They always did. Atieno's hands shook. She couldn't remember her mother's face, but she remembered her name. For Mama, she whispered, and launched off the roof. Atieno hit the ground hard. The impact rattled her teeth. The Juju Lord's name was Ochola. He'd been Mama's driver before Odhiambo promoted him. His breath stank of chang'aa and roasting meat. Ochola froze when he saw her. His eyes were wide. Little Atieno? he gasped. You're grown. Atieno didn't answer. Her hand reached for his shadow. Stealing shadows felt like drowning. Like tearing skin. Ochola's shadow shrieked as it left him. The street went silent.
