I have. You are fast… for a schoolboy, he says, grabbing me by the head.

This schoolboy can beat you—that I know, I say, pushing him off me.

Still, you must be careful.

I can take care of myself.

I am just the messenger, little brother. There are things about the water you do not know.

Like what?

The beasts.

The beasts?

Yes, they have long necks and small heads and they live under the river, only coming up at night because their skin burns beneath the sun.

Brother, you are kidding?

They are massive. If you listen, you can sometimes hear them in the forest, he says, stopping in his tracks and cupping his hand to his ears…

What is it, Kwasi?

… feeding off human flesh… especially troubled boys who do not listen to their mums, he says, laughing loudly. How can you be so smart, yet so gullible?

I did not believe any of that.

Oh yes you did. You should have seen your bulging eyes.

What is for dinner?

Yams, of course.

I am so sick of yams.

Also, fish, okro stew, and kenkey.

Kenkey is so awfully plain. The most unpleasant.

That is because you refuse to dip it in the pepper. It is heavenly.

For you, maybe. That pepper sauce is too hot for me.

Ei! What do you mean, TOO hot? Are you not Asante?

I will just eat fish.

It is your loss. But anyway, we are celebrating me this evening.

What do you mean?

I have some news.

Tell me.

It seems that your big brother has been chosen to represent Upper Kwanta.

Represent, what do you mean?

In the wrestling contest.

Ei!

CHAPTER THREE

THE STORY OF THE WRESTLERS

On day six of the Kings Festival, the annual wrestling contest between the villages takes center stage… Upper Kwanta’s best men face Lower Kwanta’s best men, and our best women, theirs… The fighters are tall and solid as oak… the elders drink rum and make wagers on who will be victorious… the women bring cheer through song and dance… and families come together in unity… It is a time of merrymaking… a time of joy… a time of feasting… and a time of fierce battles… in the clearing a few kilometers from the village… lasting from midday to dusk… At the end, champions are adorned with golden bracelets and cowrie necklaces and carried through the village like kings and queens on palanquins… a parade of villagers follow behind, pumping their fists, roaring war cries, singing praises to the two victors… and mocking the losers mercilessly… These contests are the one occasion where Lower can one-up Upper… So, they come prepared and ready to not only win, but to dominate, and when the drums sound, their pride is on full display…

A MIDSUMMER NIGHT

In my dream

the rain spills

from the night sky

like an overturned bucket.

It crashes

against my head

and the water.

Then it stops