went swimming at night, and by himself.”
The children looked at the faces of their parents to confirm this explanation. The adults asked them to head to town, announcing that storytelling would take place that night about humans and water spirits. The children were delighted—their parents had told them of such gatherings, and now they would witness one for the first time. Mama Kadie said she would tell the story at the town square. They raced one another to their various homes, leaving the adults by the river. Pa Moiwa called out to Colonel, who had been sitting on a stone by the river observing things.
“Man in Charge, could you and your caboodle help us with some firewood for tonight’s gathering?”
“Yes, Pa Moiwa, and you will have the firewood for no charge. Our contribution to the town.” He turned away to look at the river. Pa Moiwa went back to the adults’ discussion about the body.
Before they took the body to be buried in the cemetery, they decided to take canoes early the following morning to look for any other bodies that were floating under bushes at the edges of the river and to clean up as best they could. They knew they couldn’t clear everything. A massacre had happened on the river, and though the blood no longer cloaked the surface of the water, there may have been all sorts of things underneath. A fisherman among them suggested he would use his nets to dredge whatever he could from the bottom of the river. What he didn’t say out loud was that in that process, he would also catch fish, which he could sell to them.
* * *
Sila and his children arrived at Bockarie’s house all dressed in colorful, embroidered traditional clothing. Their clean Vaseline-covered bodies were shiny in certain spots and dry in others. Sila carried raw rice wrapped in a cloth, which he gave to Kula as soon as they arrived. It was a tradition to bring a particular kind of red rice to signify that one was grateful for the friendship of the person whose house you visited. She hugged him and kissed his cheek, his smile growing wider. She then wrapped her arms around Hawa and Maada, squeezing them at the same time. They giggled—it was the first time they had met someone who didn’t make them feel uncomfortable, someone who hugged them with no hesitation. Sila admired the attitude of this wonderful and beautiful woman. He stared at her, hoping to catch her eyes to thank her, which was more genuine than the handshake he lacked these days.
“I see that you have come to take my woman away from me!” Bockarie joked.
“Well, now that I am missing an arm, women don’t find me threatening, and I don’t complain when they come closer.” He laughed and put his left arm around Bockarie’s shoulder. Bockarie didn’t know whether to hug him or shake his hand.
“But the hugs and kisses are only accepted from women, man!” Sila said. They walked to the front of the house, where most of the family was gathered. Miata, Bockarie’s older daughter, Mahawa, and Oumu had gone to the river to bathe and fetch water for the evening. The visitors began their round of greetings to the elders. Mama Kadie was holding Tornya.
“Shake my hand with your left, and we should do so from now on, as this hand now has the responsibility of both,” Pa Kainesi said to Sila.
“But this isn’t proper. The right hand is customary for greetings.”
“Times have changed and so must certain traditions. The respect for the tradition is in your eyes and mannerisms. So from now on I choose to shake your left hand.” Pa Moiwa and Mama Kadie shook Sila’s hand and rubbed the heads of his children. Maada and Hawa felt comfortable knowing that the elders treated them the same as all the other children.
As the adults settled on benches and hammocks to talk, Manawah and Abu, Bockarie’s oldest sons, and Thomas took Hawa and Maada to the other side of the veranda. First they rubbed the Vaseline properly on parts of their faces that
The children looked at the faces of their parents to confirm this explanation. The adults asked them to head to town, announcing that storytelling would take place that night about humans and water spirits. The children were delighted—their parents had told them of such gatherings, and now they would witness one for the first time. Mama Kadie said she would tell the story at the town square. They raced one another to their various homes, leaving the adults by the river. Pa Moiwa called out to Colonel, who had been sitting on a stone by the river observing things.
“Man in Charge, could you and your caboodle help us with some firewood for tonight’s gathering?”
“Yes, Pa Moiwa, and you will have the firewood for no charge. Our contribution to the town.” He turned away to look at the river. Pa Moiwa went back to the adults’ discussion about the body.
Before they took the body to be buried in the cemetery, they decided to take canoes early the following morning to look for any other bodies that were floating under bushes at the edges of the river and to clean up as best they could. They knew they couldn’t clear everything. A massacre had happened on the river, and though the blood no longer cloaked the surface of the water, there may have been all sorts of things underneath. A fisherman among them suggested he would use his nets to dredge whatever he could from the bottom of the river. What he didn’t say out loud was that in that process, he would also catch fish, which he could sell to them.
* * *
Sila and his children arrived at Bockarie’s house all dressed in colorful, embroidered traditional clothing. Their clean Vaseline-covered bodies were shiny in certain spots and dry in others. Sila carried raw rice wrapped in a cloth, which he gave to Kula as soon as they arrived. It was a tradition to bring a particular kind of red rice to signify that one was grateful for the friendship of the person whose house you visited. She hugged him and kissed his cheek, his smile growing wider. She then wrapped her arms around Hawa and Maada, squeezing them at the same time. They giggled—it was the first time they had met someone who didn’t make them feel uncomfortable, someone who hugged them with no hesitation. Sila admired the attitude of this wonderful and beautiful woman. He stared at her, hoping to catch her eyes to thank her, which was more genuine than the handshake he lacked these days.
“I see that you have come to take my woman away from me!” Bockarie joked.
“Well, now that I am missing an arm, women don’t find me threatening, and I don’t complain when they come closer.” He laughed and put his left arm around Bockarie’s shoulder. Bockarie didn’t know whether to hug him or shake his hand.
“But the hugs and kisses are only accepted from women, man!” Sila said. They walked to the front of the house, where most of the family was gathered. Miata, Bockarie’s older daughter, Mahawa, and Oumu had gone to the river to bathe and fetch water for the evening. The visitors began their round of greetings to the elders. Mama Kadie was holding Tornya.
“Shake my hand with your left, and we should do so from now on, as this hand now has the responsibility of both,” Pa Kainesi said to Sila.
“But this isn’t proper. The right hand is customary for greetings.”
“Times have changed and so must certain traditions. The respect for the tradition is in your eyes and mannerisms. So from now on I choose to shake your left hand.” Pa Moiwa and Mama Kadie shook Sila’s hand and rubbed the heads of his children. Maada and Hawa felt comfortable knowing that the elders treated them the same as all the other children.
As the adults settled on benches and hammocks to talk, Manawah and Abu, Bockarie’s oldest sons, and Thomas took Hawa and Maada to the other side of the veranda. First they rubbed the Vaseline properly on parts of their faces that
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