Radiance of Tomorrow by Ishmael Beah Page A

machete on the ground, and waited. Victor, Salimatu, Amadu, and Ernest came into view with bundles of wood on each of their heads. The man sighed with apologetic eyes as people now turned to look at him, some relaxing and bringing their bundles back inside their houses. Who was to be blamed? A machete in someone’s hands these days, especially in a young person’s hands, had a different meaning. The man went toward the path and shook hands with Colonel before passing, perhaps his way of saying it was not his fault that he feared Colonel.
    “We have wood for sale if your household needs some. Please tell everyone we are at the house at the end of town near the oldest mango tree,” Colonel said to the dispersing crowd. He didn’t introduce himself to Bockarie or anyone else as he walked on. Bockarie later learned about him and the others from Pa Kainesi.
    As soon as they arrived home, Thomas and Oumu went to their mother and asked why Hawa and Maada had no hands.
    Kula looked toward her husband, whose eyes said, I didn’t know what to say .
    “Well, it was an accident that happened in this country when you were just babies, and it happened to many people,” she told the children, and then she preempted their follow-up question. “It is an accident that people do not want to speak about just yet. So don’t ask questions, okay. In time you will know if necessary.” She hugged them both.
    “Mother, we also saw a man running away from a young boy and then he realized he was wrong!” Oumu said.
    “So many stories already this morning! Go in and eat with your brothers and sister.” She released the children from her arms and placed her head on her husband’s back, leaning on him and folding her arms around his waist. He turned to face her. She always had a smile waiting for him that made him feel at peace. He put his hands around her waist and squeezed her until she giggled and playfully pinched him. They laughed and stood together for a while, holding each other to gather the strength that was needed for this day, another day of waiting.
    “Mother, Father, I am going to see Mama Kadie. She said I should visit whenever I need a story for the day.” Oumu distracted her parents, who looked at each other and nodded to her request. They knew she would go anyway, or harass them to tell her stories.
    “What story do you need for today, if I may ask,” Bockarie said, kissing his daughter’s forehead.
    “Mama Kadie will know when she sees my eyes,” Oumu said and skipped off.
    On that same day, when the sun was in the middle of the sky, a group of children had ventured into the river for a swim. As they splashed in it, making the water swing harder to both shores, they had shaken loose a body that had been hanging from the branch of a tree for who knows how long. The children’s frightened shouts filled the air, waking the town from its slumber and bringing adults running with heavy hearts. They found a stick and fished the body out. All they could tell was that he was a young man whose genitals had been cut. Memories of that particular past filled everyone’s minds again and they quickly covered the body, as though this would halt the invitation of unpleasant sights into their minds. The children who had been swimming in the river were all too young to know what had happened not so long ago. They had seen burnt villages and houses and holes in walls, and their minds had told them it was fire from a burning farm that had consumed the houses. The adults were happy to agree with such innocent explanations. But as everyone stood with the children at the banks of the river, Oumu, whose innocent mind still thought people died only of old age, asked her father, “Why is this man dead in the river? He does not look older than grandfather.” Bockarie and all the other adults searched one another’s faces. He cleared his throat and said to his daughter, “The young man was drowned by a bad genie, a water spirit, because he