our King took control

of the gold, storing it

in a secret repository,

whose location

is only known

by three people—the King

of Upper,

his Paramount Chief,

and the head authority

of gold-digging,

who happens to now be

my father.

SENTENCE

In accordance

with the Bambara Treaty, you,

Kwasi Baako Mensah, son of Addo Mensah,

grandson of Nana Mosi Mensah,

who has committed

the heinous crime of murder,

taking the life

of Prince Yaw Boateng,

son of Yaa Boateng,

nephew of King Nana Boateng,

shall be dealt with

according to the laws

of the people

of Lower Kwanta, announces

the King.

Bring out the jury.

ATTACK

The drummer beats again,

summoning

three vicious-looking large men

with arms the size

of thick tree limbs

to the center

of the courtyard.

They form a half-circle

around Kwasi,

who bleeds

from his head

from his legs

from a right hand

that now holds

only two fingers.

I think of Kwasi’s fingers

left in the dirt

to be scavenged

by a small, wandering beast.

I think of Maame’s worrying

that retribution was certain.

And, for the first time,

I think of the real possibility

of death.

The drum stops

while another man

with a horn

awaits a signal

from the King

to start the match

where my brother

will have to fight

three men.

Between the river

of sadness that

drains from my eyes

I see Kwasi

inside the storm,

dripping

with blood and water

staring at me,

with a grin on his face

and a familiar word

on his lips:

Kokoduru, he mouths.

Then he attacks.

POSSESSED

He rushes one opponent

grabs his left leg

throws him to the ground

twists his foot

as far as it will go

then twists it back

and while he yells

in agony

Kwasi sinks his teeth

into the man’s ripe ankle

with the bite-force

of a wild dog

and locks

his bloody jaw.

Then, without hesitation

and in controlled abandon,

he jumps up,

kicks and punches

with such brutal force

and fearlessness that,

even though they outnumber him,

the remaining two fighters

refocus their efforts

on defense,

backing away

from my brother,

to the King’s dismay.

Kwasi leaps

and lunges at one,

headfirst into his chest,

then, in rapid succession,

unleashes a flood

of blows

to the other man’s chest

until he is down

and out.

He turns,

winks at me,

and I think of

all the tall tales

he has told me

about massive monsters

who battle

and devour human flesh,

and I wonder

if all along

maybe he was the main character

in the stories,

the two-headed beast

living under the surging sea.

The surprise

on the faces

of the crowd

mirrors mine

but not for long.

THE RAIN DOES NOT FALL

on one roof, Nana Mosi says,

which has never made sense to me

until today,

when the King declares,

ENOUGH OF THIS! LET THE GIANT FEAST,

and Bonsu,

no longer hobbling with a bad ankle,