As evening came, we merged together for the last time. Somehow we knew this was the end. We lay upon each other’s bosom and wept for what was to come. If only there was something to say. We wanted to take refuge in speech, but it would not come. So touch was our final requiem. Every hand felt another’s flesh. Soon a collaboration of souls ensued and we enjoyed the tranquility of our final night together. We abandoned anxieties of tomorrow long enough to create a memory that got us through the night. We would never forget it. It would be our hope in years to come. Without announcement, we simply moved our hands across each other’s limbs and faces. Our hands spoke so many things. They said Thank you for enduring. They said, I love you for living. They said Bless you for being. They said We shall see each other again. They said Pale men could separate our bodies but not our spirits. They said Do not become the evil that brought us here. They said Ashe for surviving. They said Forgive me for war. They said Yeabo for prayers unspoken. They said Our gods have not forgotten. From dusk to dark, we massaged black bodies until practically every part of everyone’s flesh had been anointed. Some moaned aloud as our souls longing was satisfied. We didn’t know what tomorrow would bring, but we didn’t intend to face it fearfully. We were warriors and healers, storytellers and dancers. We were not people who surrendered—even in bondage.

The hour or two we slept, we dreamed. We dreamed a collective dream. Each of us was there, along with so many others, standing in the center of a land, surrounded by hundreds, no, thousands who appeared to resemble us completely. There were the young, the old, and the in-between. Food sat piled high on tables stretched in every direction. Children laughed and played in the distance. Adults screeched about bygone days. Elders wondered what our future held. Ancestors hovered, just above us, smiling with glee. We couldn’t see faces clearly, but we saw every shade of brown and black conceivable. And every size: tall, short, round, thin, husky, hefty, muscular, slender, fat, stocky. These were our people. And they were beautiful. The land looked like our land, but different. It felt like our land, but changed. There were a few pale people in revelry with our people, and we didn’t understand, but ancestors nodded approval so we held our peace. Every face lost along the journey was found on a young person’s face. It soothed our hearts. It excited our souls. God had kept God’s promise.