When do you think we will taste yam again?

Why are there no drums, no music here?

Nana Mosi says dreams are answers to questions.

Do you believe in dreams?

Why do they scorch the other boys?

Where did they take them?

Are there men here too?

Why has no one come for us?

Why were the heads on stakes?

How did you last in here so long?

Am I going to die?

ANSWERS

Afua says

that she misses yam too,

then wipes her eye

and reveals

that the severed heads

belonged to men

trying to escape

this nightmare,

that one day

while she was preparing

palmnut stew

in their great kitchen

she saw beneath

the place where

the wonderfuls worship

a dozen young menboys

tall like her brothers

brought here with her

being shoved

into the hole

of a dungeon,

that Owu and I were not

because they keep

the small-small children

with the women,

that she fills her mouth

with stories

to pass each day,

that they remind her

of the times

that were good

and full of wonder

and before I can ask her

to tell me one,

a deafening GONG echoes

and it paralyzes her.

I believe it is time, she says, stilling herself.

CHAPTER SEVEN

THE STORY OF THE STORY

There was even a time when human beings and spirits were neighbors and one of the things that connected us was story… Before there was even a single written word, there were poems and chants… rhymes and songs… about births and deaths… marriages and battles… Our people would gather around a central fire… and listen to the storyteller… It is in this way that important messages were passed down through the generations… to help people make sense of the sometimes cruel and harsh world… to comfort… to answer the questions the children wondered… why the leopard has spots… why the elephant is afraid of bees… why mosquitoes buzz in people’s ears… We told these stories… and many more… to entertain… and enlighten… to preserve our beliefs… and to record our history… for ourselves… by ourselves… This you must remember… There will come a time when you will tell these stories to the ones who come after you… and they will listen like you listen to me… and they will learn… as you must learn now… until the lions tell their side of the story, the tale of the hunt will always celebrate the hunter… Do you understand this, Kofi?

CHAOS

The hurried footsteps

and raucous commotion

from above

get closer

and closer

to us.

Metal clangs

as the iron door

to our cage

unlocks

and opens.

The frenzied, stabbing orders

from one of the thick-braided

tall guards

in white cloths

shouting at us

to line up.

The women scurry

to their feet.

Auntie whispers for me

to wake Owu quickly.

I try.

But there is silence in his stare.

The unmoving of his limbs

and the rattling sound of death