We were now five. Our last day approached. We could feel it. We hoped that all of us would be sold together, or at least on the same day, and no one would be left alone. But there was no promise. We agreed to be strong, come what may. We vowed to search for each other if somehow that became possible. Of course, we wouldn’t know where to look. We didn’t know where we were. We swore all the same. We spoke proverbs to ease our discontented hearts: “A determined soul shall be made fat!” “Hope retained is hope rewarded!” “God never forgets!” “The wealthy do not always prosper!” “Poor today, ruler tomorrow!” “Sticks in a bundle are unbreakable!” “When bound together, friends become family!” “Do not take what you did not plant!” “Greed loses what it has gained!” “Beauty is never perfect!” “Love never gets lost!” “However long the night, the dawn will break!” And on until we heard our people’s voices in our heads. Then we sighed and sat in a small circle, wondering what else to say. Nothing came. Hours passed, slow and brutal. Atiba drew circles upon the earth, Akinyemi stared into the air, Binta played with her hands, Zinzele tried to see home in her imagination, and Olufemi watched the sun’s light move around us. There was nothing else we could do. Occasionally we drank water or relieved ourselves in the corner, but always we returned to the circle. It was our last hope. It was the only symbol we shared. It was the only reason we didn’t die. We’d all been taught that, in a circle, there is no beginning, no end. Energy flows without ceasing. One can enter and exit without ever disrupting it. Something magical happens when people gather in a circle. Individual identities swirl into a collective self, which wields far more spiritual force than any one person alone. We knew that. And though small, our circle of five did precisely what elders had said it would do.