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A reed will dance in the water from the rhythm of a gyrating stream a stone’s throw from the settlement whose stories remain untold. The drums whose music forces the dance are two wrinkled arms with rough ugly hands holding down the head of a struggling child recently shocked into awaking. Nothing makes sense in his head as it fills up with darkness while the rest of his body yields to the water taking its place therein. He cannot see the lifeless form of his older sibling floating farther away from the scene. He knows those hands. They fed him earlier in the evening. They have smeared oil all over his naked body. They have carried him while he sleeps. They have pinched his cheeks and ears in rebuke. They have patted him on the back for getting the alphabetic order correct. Now, they are pushing him under a fiercely cold...
©S.Ogugu 2013
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