Chapter 10: Two Generations Apart

I kept quiet for a long time.

My chest rose and fell as I tried to steady my breath. “I came from 2023. From New Nigeria.”

The words felt both weightless and heavy, like rain about to break. The world my mother left behind was full of war and pain; the world I came from, a different kind of battle.

It was like a wind blew through the room, carrying a hundred years of history from the old world.

Old spirits must have passed between us, brushing the edges of our souls. It circled my mother’s temples, then brushed across my forehead.

A shiver ran down my spine, as if time itself had reached out to bless or test us. My mother’s almond eyes got even wider, her hands shaking after a while.

She held her breath as though afraid to exhale the hope that was budding. Her voice trembled too.

“2023? Th-that…?”

The number hung in the air, thick with promise and pain. I knew what she wanted to ask, and my throat tightened as well.

I looked her in the eyes and said, one word after another:

“The land still dey, and the country dey in peace.”

I let each word linger, like a promise for all those who never lived to see it.