laugh. When they greeted him, he responded in detail about how he and his children were and how they had slept, and he asked the same questions to Bockarie. While Sila was speaking, Hawa and Maada came onto their veranda and sat on an old wooden log, listening to their father and watching the visitors with eyes that hadn’t completely been freed from sleep. Oumu’s and Thomas’s faces filled with joy as they experienced what their father had spoken of so many times. Afterward, they giggled and poked each other as the adults had a long conversation about the way things had been—how in the morning there used to be a man who would play the drum at 5:00 a.m., then again in the evening for dancing, and finally deep at night, singing a quiet melody that summoned sleep for everyone.
“I used to dance to that drum every time I walked by to my farm. The sound cheered me up all the way to work,” Sila said, mimicking some of the moves, crossing his feet over each other quickly and making the drum sound with his mouth. He was dancing so well that looking at him the children forgot about his missing hand. Bockarie joined in dancing while telling Sila that he, too, had liked the drum, closing the night in particular. He also said that it was actually how he met Kula, dancing in front of the drummer in the evening.
While the adults reminisced, the children watched one another. Oumu and Thomas clearly wanted to know why Hawa and Maada were missing arms and hands, but they didn’t know when it was appropriate to interrupt the adults. So they stepped onto the veranda closer to their age-mates to see if they had just put their hands inside their clothes as children do sometimes, especially in the morning when it was a bit colder. Oumu even touched the stump of Maada’s arm—he smiled awkwardly, trying to understand why this little girl didn’t seem to understand that his hands were gone. Thomas began to emulate the dancing of the adults as an excuse to get closer to Hawa and Maada to observe them more. The adults were too consumed with one another and their past to notice what was transpiring among the children. Perhaps it was a good thing that they learned to be with one another on their own without the adults, who made the situation more awkward at times.
“You should come to my house this evening. The children can play together.” Bockarie tapped Sila on his shoulder and waved goodbye to the children, who giggled, knowing they would have playmates later on. Their shyness had subsided a bit, and Hawa, with her only right hand, waved to Oumu and Thomas, who hesitantly waved back. Sila wasn’t worried, as his children had been through this so many times that it was no longer a worthy conversation. Bockarie knew that his children would ask him questions about this family. “Your mother will explain better, so wait until we get home,” Bockarie said before the children let their inquisitive tongues loose and while their eyes remained on Sila and his family as they walked home. He had to say something but he hadn’t the words, nor did he know how to explain why or how Sila and his children were like that.
Just then a man came running as fast as possible and halted next to Bockarie, almost hiding himself behind him and his children. The man pointed to the path and shouted, “Someone is coming again to do away with us all. Run, everyone!”
A few people who had left their verandas returned to see what the commotion was all about. Most of the others already had their bundles ready to run into the bushes. Soon enough, Colonel emerged from the path holding a machete. He was walking hurriedly with deliberate intensity, marching like a soldier, holding the machete not like a farmer but as someone ready to use it for a fight, his strong arms raised and ready to strike. This was out of habit. The man had seen him from afar; now Colonel saw the man pointing at him and the many hesitant eyes directed his way. He stopped, dropped the
“I used to dance to that drum every time I walked by to my farm. The sound cheered me up all the way to work,” Sila said, mimicking some of the moves, crossing his feet over each other quickly and making the drum sound with his mouth. He was dancing so well that looking at him the children forgot about his missing hand. Bockarie joined in dancing while telling Sila that he, too, had liked the drum, closing the night in particular. He also said that it was actually how he met Kula, dancing in front of the drummer in the evening.
While the adults reminisced, the children watched one another. Oumu and Thomas clearly wanted to know why Hawa and Maada were missing arms and hands, but they didn’t know when it was appropriate to interrupt the adults. So they stepped onto the veranda closer to their age-mates to see if they had just put their hands inside their clothes as children do sometimes, especially in the morning when it was a bit colder. Oumu even touched the stump of Maada’s arm—he smiled awkwardly, trying to understand why this little girl didn’t seem to understand that his hands were gone. Thomas began to emulate the dancing of the adults as an excuse to get closer to Hawa and Maada to observe them more. The adults were too consumed with one another and their past to notice what was transpiring among the children. Perhaps it was a good thing that they learned to be with one another on their own without the adults, who made the situation more awkward at times.
“You should come to my house this evening. The children can play together.” Bockarie tapped Sila on his shoulder and waved goodbye to the children, who giggled, knowing they would have playmates later on. Their shyness had subsided a bit, and Hawa, with her only right hand, waved to Oumu and Thomas, who hesitantly waved back. Sila wasn’t worried, as his children had been through this so many times that it was no longer a worthy conversation. Bockarie knew that his children would ask him questions about this family. “Your mother will explain better, so wait until we get home,” Bockarie said before the children let their inquisitive tongues loose and while their eyes remained on Sila and his family as they walked home. He had to say something but he hadn’t the words, nor did he know how to explain why or how Sila and his children were like that.
Just then a man came running as fast as possible and halted next to Bockarie, almost hiding himself behind him and his children. The man pointed to the path and shouted, “Someone is coming again to do away with us all. Run, everyone!”
A few people who had left their verandas returned to see what the commotion was all about. Most of the others already had their bundles ready to run into the bushes. Soon enough, Colonel emerged from the path holding a machete. He was walking hurriedly with deliberate intensity, marching like a soldier, holding the machete not like a farmer but as someone ready to use it for a fight, his strong arms raised and ready to strike. This was out of habit. The man had seen him from afar; now Colonel saw the man pointing at him and the many hesitant eyes directed his way. He stopped, dropped the
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