Chapter 11: The Weight of History

My mother was stunned, so many emotions flashed in her eyes.

Joy, disbelief, pride, and a sorrow as old as the earth. She suddenly grabbed my arms, her face full of urgency and hope.

“The white men?”

“Chased away.”

Her grip tightened. “We win?”

“Yes, we win.”

Her shoulders shook. “Still war?”

“No more.”

Big tears rolled from her eyes, dropping onto my hands.

They were hot.

The salt stung, but I let them fall, a silent offering to the ancestors. I felt my chest warm up too.

The heat of her hope mingled with mine. “Anybody still dey bully us?”

“No, nobody fit bully us again. Now, they only fear and respect us.”

I said it with the conviction of generations behind me, as if my words could shield her from the scars of the past.