Zahrah the Windseeker
Zahrah the Windseeker
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Paperback ©2005--
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Houghton Mifflin
Annotation: Things aren't always what they seem when a teenage girl is the only one who stands a chance at saving her best friend's life.
 
Reviews: 7
Catalog Number: #4144447
Format: Paperback
Publisher: Houghton Mifflin
Copyright Date: 2005
Edition Date: 2005 Release Date: 02/18/08
Pages: xii, 308 pages
ISBN: 0-547-02028-7
ISBN 13: 978-0-547-02028-0
Dewey: Fic
LCCN: 2004015783
Dimensions: 18 cm.
Language: English
Reviews:
ALA Booklist

First-time novelist Okorafor-Mbachu braids elements of African tribal culture and speculative fantasy into a sprawling novel, in which one discerns shades of A Girl Named Disaster (1996), by Nancy Farmer and The People Could Fly (1985), by Virginia Hamilton (to whom this book is dedicated). Zahrah is a dada girl who was born with vine-entwined dreadlocks. She is also a rare Windseeker coming to uneasy terms with her ability to fly. When her best friend receives a snakebite, Zahrah must venture deeply into the Forbidden Greeny Jungle for an antidote, emerging from the ordeal glowing with experience as well as a new mastery over her unusual gifts. Okorafor-Mbachu's evocative setting will draw experienced fantasy readers with its heady mix of the familiar and the strange (Zahrah's people celebrate yam festivals and cultivate personal computers from CPU seeds), but following such wild invention, some readers may be disappointed by the more predictable rhythms of Zahrah's linear, episodic quest adventure. Still, this is a welcome addition to a genre sorely in need of more heroes and heroines of color.

Horn Book

Born dada, or wise, Zahrah of planet Ginen braves the Forbidden Greeny Jungle seeking a cure for the war snake bite her friend Dari receives. Taught to fear the jungle all her life, Zahrah learns to survive and value knowledge over ignorance. Imaginative and vivid, with strange dangers and stranger allies, this engaging story pits one girl's wits against the unknown.

Kirkus Reviews

A girl ventures into a forbidden jungle to save her friend in this botanically creative fantasy. Thirteen-year-old Zahrah lives on a planet where all technology from lights to computer networks is comprised of live plants. But only Zahrah has plants growing in her hair; they've been there since birth and show that she's dada (magical). Supportive parents and best friend Dari can't assuage Zahrah's pain at being taunted about it. However, when Dari and Zahrah venture into the Forbidden Greeny Jungle and a poisonous snake bites Dari, only Zahrah has the courage to seek the antidote. She walks over 300 miles into the lush, terrifying jungle bursting with fantastical plants and creatures. Completion of her quest requires learning to fly, a dada ability that she's been slowly mastering. Okorafor-Mbachu leans on exclamation points for emphasis and cliches for morality; however, bursts of humor, exotic flora and fauna and the unusual combination of Nigerian-based culture with children's fantasy make this worth the read. (Fantasy. 9-12)

School Library Journal

Gr 5-7-Zahrah was born with dadalocks-dreadlocks containing living vines. Although she lives in a world in which nature provides everything (even computers grow from seeds), being dada is cause for scorn. Then she discovers that it also means that she can call the wind and fly. She and her friend Dari enter the Forbidden Greeny Jungle that borders their kingdom to explore her powers, but when he is bitten by a poisonous snake, Zahrah must set off alone in search of an elgort egg to save him. Her adventures are full of encounters with talking animals and peril; unfortunately, the excitement is dulled because readers know that everything will be fine from the start. References to Alice in Wonderearth abound (to Zahrah, Earth is a legend), and some of her journey (particularly advice received from a pink frog reminiscent of the Cheshire Cat) seems like an attempt to create an Africa-infused Alice tale. There are also nods to Douglas Adams's The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy (S & S, 1981) that are unlikely to resonate with the intended audience. The world-building is interesting, and Zahrah's journey to self-acceptance is obvious but satisfying; the important theme of exploring, rather than fearing, the unknown is heavy-handed. Because there is little African science fiction written for young readers, comparisons with Nancy Farmer's The Ear, the Eye and the Arm (Scholastic, 1994) are inevitable, but this story lacks much of the complexity of Farmer's work.-Karyn N. Silverman, Elizabeth Irwin High School, New York City Copyright 2005 Reed Business Information.

Voice of Youth Advocates

Zahrah Tsami is a unique child. Her long dadalocks are intertwined with vines and attract various comments and stares from the people of Ooni. They fear Zahrah's appearance because it reminds them of the past and the knowledge of the Windseekers. Zahrah does her best to ignore them with the help of her friend, Dari. Dari is also different from the other Ooni children. He longs to explore the Forbidden Greeny Jungle and discover its dark and prohibited mysteries. Dari's curiosity gets the better of him when he is bitten by a war snake and falls into a deep sleep. Zahrah must find the courage within and harness her dada wisdom to help Dari overcome his deadly slumber. Okorafor-Mbachu creates an outstanding science fiction/fantasy novel complete with exotic creatures, a magical forest, and children with superhuman abilities. The author describes the country of Ooni, its creatures, and people as if she has seen them all firsthand. The Forbidden Greeny Jungle comes alive for Zahrah after she discovers her incredible talent. Readers will struggle along with Zahrah as she scours the jungle for Dari's cure. This beautifully written story addresses the ideas of friendship, self-discovery, and following one's heart. True fans of science fiction/fantasy novels will not want to miss out on this incredible story.-Jonatha Masters.

Word Count: 70,632
Reading Level: 5.0
Interest Level: 7-12
Accelerated Reader: reading level: 5.0 / points: 11.0 / quiz: 101833 / grade: Middle Grades
Reading Counts!: reading level:4.4 / points:17.0 / quiz:Q46651
Lexile: 720L
Prologue My World When I was born, my mother took one look at me and laughed.
“She’s . . . dada,” said the doctor, looking surprised. “I can see that,” my mother replied with a smile. She took me in her arms and gently touched one of the thick clumps of hair growing from my little head. I had dadalocks, and woven inside each one of those clumps was a skinny, light green vine. Contrary to what a lot of people think, these vines didn’t sprout directly from my head. Instead, they were more like plants that had attached themselves to my hair as I grew inside my mother’s womb. Imagine that! To be born with vines growing in your hair! But that’s the nature of dada people, like myself.
“Look, she’s smiling,” my father said. “As if she already knows she’s dada.” To many, to be dada meant you were born with strange powers. That you could walk into a room and a mysterious wind would knock things over or clocks would automatically stop; that your mere presence would cause flowers to grow underneath the soil instead of above. That you caused things to rebel or that you would grow up to be rebellious yourself! And what made things even worse was that I was a girl, and only boys and men were supposed to be rebellious. Girls were supposed to be soft, quiet, and pleasant. Thankfully, when I was born, my parents were open-minded, well educated, and familiar with some of the older stories about dada people. These stories said that the dada-born were destined to be wise beings, not necessarily rebels. As a result, my parents didn’t cut my hair, and they weren’t scared by it either. Instead they let it grow and, as I got older, made sure I understood that being dada was not a curse. In fact, it was a blessing, because it was a part of me, they said. Of course I didn’t feel this way when I was old enough to go to school and my classmates called me names. Now I’m fourteen and my dada hair has grown way down my back. Also, the vines inside are thicker and dark green. Sometimes all this hair is heavy, but I’m used to it. My mother says it forces me to hold my head up higher.

********

A large part of the culture in the northern Ooni Kingdom where I live is to look “civilized.” That’s northern slang for stylish. There’s no way the typical northerner would go outside without wearing his or her most civilized clothes and looking clean and nice. Not even for a second. We all carry mirrors in our pockets, and we take them out every so often to inspect our reflection and make sure we look good. On top of that, our clothes click with tiny style mirrors embedded into the collars and hems. They’re really lovely. I have a dress with style mirrors sewn all over it. Sometimes when I’m alone I like to put it on and dance in the sunlight. The reflections from the little mirrors look like white insects dancing along with me. My people love to use mirrors everywhere, actually. If you go to the downtown area of the great city of Ile-Ife, you’ll understand what I’m talking about. Downtown, many giant plant towers reach high into the sky. In my history class, I learned that every year, the ten tallest plant towers grow ten inches higher and five inches wider and that they’re thousands of years old. At one time, long ago, they weren’t even inhabited by human beings, as they are now. There were no elevators or computer networks or offices or living spaces inside. They were just big big plants! The Ooni Palace Tower is the tallest (standing 4,188 feet high) and oldest of them all. That’s where the chief of Ooni and his counsel reside. The top of the building blooms into a giant blue flower with purple petals. My father told me that this flower serves as a netevision transmitter for most of the Ooni Kingdom. Even this far north in Kirki, it’s a beautiful sight, especially at night. Anyway, from up in any of the plant towers, you can see the north with all its mirrors shining like a giant galaxy, especially on sunny days. Our homes and buildings are encrusted with thousands of mirrors, inside and out. And there’s always sand in the streets from those messy trucks transporting the grains to the factories to make even more mirrors.
Some like to say that northerners are arrogant and vain. But it’s just our culture. And look at the four other ethnic groups of the Ooni Kingdom. They have unique customs, too. I just find them interesting, as opposed to wrong.
The northwesterners cook all day and most of the night! Over there you can practically eat the air, and everyone is gloriously fat! The people of the southwest are as obsessed with beads as we northerners are with mirrors. People wear them everywhere: around their ankles, arms, necks, on their clothes. The people of the southeast make aall things metal. I’ve never been there, but I hear that the people always have soot on their faces and the air there is not fresh because of all the metalwork. And northeasterners are masters of architecture and botany, the study of plants. All the best books about plants are written by northeasterners, be they about pruning your office building or growing and maintaining the perfect personal computer from CPU seed to adult PC.
But despite all our diverse knowledge and progress here in Ooni, my dada nature and hair will never be truly accepted, not here in the north or anywhere else in Ooni. During the past two weeks, I’ve been doing some research, and now I’m starting to understand the reason for this prejudiced attitude. It’s not just the northern culture that made people react badly to my dada hair. It’s a general fear of the unknown that plagues the entire society of the Ooni Kingdom, a discomfort with things that may have been forgotten. And maybe my hair gives people a glimpse of memories they can’t quite remember. Have you ever tried to recall something but couldn’t and it was right on the tip of your tongue? It’s not a good feeling, is it? It’s irritating, and sometimes you’d rather not remember anything at all. That’s how it is here in Ooni, with the past, I think.

Copyright © 2005 by Nnedi Okorafor-Mbachu. Reprinted by permission of Houghton Mifflin Company.



Excerpted from Zahrah the Windseeker by Nnedi Okorafor-Mbachu
All rights reserved by the original copyright owners. Excerpts are provided for display purposes only and may not be reproduced, reprinted or distributed without the written permission of the publisher.

In the Ooni Kingdom, children born dada—with vines growing in their hair—are rumored to have special powers. Zahrah Tsami doesn’t know anything about that. She feels normal. Others think she’s different—they fear her. Only Dari, her best friend, isn’t afraid of her. But then something begins to happen—something that definitely marks Zahrah as different—and the only person she can tell is Dari. He pushes her to investigate, edging them both closer and closer to danger. Until Dari’s life is on the line. Only Zahrah can save him, but to do so she’ll have to face her worst fears alone, including the very thing that makes her different.


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