warned me

that when it is time

for my initiation

I will not know

the initiators,

the men sent

to torture me.

THE DRUNKEN LAUGHTER

of our nightwatch

and the pap, pap, ka-ka-ka

Skidiki-pap-pap

of their random gunshots

finally mutes,

which brings

a little relief and hope

that we will be allowed

to rest

before everything starts.

A boy

with swollen eyes

thick with dread

stares through me

like he does not even see

me.

Part of me wants to calm

his panic,

say we will be brave together,

and the other part

wants to turn away

from the numbness

coloring his face.

He is the Zombie. Does not speak or eat, says the chubby one. Look at his eyes, they are empty.

How long have you each been here?

Some a fortnight, others more or less, he responds. I am Osei, by the way.

This is a part of our initiation?

What else could it be?

KOMM! hollers one of the drunken men outside our keep. Close your mouths, or I will close them for you.

VISION

There is no opening

for light

in this dank cell,

so when they take us out

each morning

to relieve ourselves

our eyes cannot adapt

and we are nearly sightless

to everything happening

around us.

FOOD COMES

only once a day

spicy soup

with slivers of meat

and just enough yam balls

for us to fight over who

gets the last one.

If this is what it means

to become a man

I want to stay a boy

with heavy-handed teachers

and Shakespeare,

and Oware

and crushes

and yes

more yam.

MEMORIES

If we are to be trained

for adulthood,

why are we caged,

shackled like animals,

I wonder aloud.

We are being tested, Osei whispers, as if reading my mind, his eyes still closed. You should be sleeping to prepare your mind.

While we wait

for the instruction

that Osei is certain will come,

the sound of the rain

has become

my chum,

the musical backdrop

to better days,

the door

to my memory:

Ebo liked to repeat

Nana Mosi’s stories

about Anansi the spider,

because he believed

he was as clever and smart

as the spider.

But are you as greedy too? I would counter,

which always caused great laughter.

I wonder if he, too, is somewhere

awaiting his fate,

preparing for initiation.

Right now,

I would give anything

to chop wood for Maame

or read after school

with Mr. Phillip

or be the ire

of my cousin’s eye.

These are all the things

I ponder

until sleep, my ally

of calm,

comes knocking.

IN THIS DREAM

I am a baby again

tied to the broad fin

of a dolphin,

but I am not

in the river.

No, this time

it is a large, mighty water

that drags me

across its gigantic waves

climbing,

then crashing

over and over.

And this time,

I do not know how

to swim,

and even if I could

it would not matter