Chapter 21: Warrior’s Promise

Her own pain dey haunt me. Every night, I dey dream say she dey call my name, dey beg me come back.

Old military doctor like me.

His care steady, eyes dey shine when he teach. For our side, to have elder wey care na blessing, especially when world dey wicked.

When no wounded people, he dey carry me go find herbs.

The bush dey smell sweet, bird dey sing. He go show me leaf, root, bark, teach me which one fit cure, which one fit kill. His voice gentle, story full for every plant.

He teach me about medicine.

He dey talk say medicine be like love—slow, steady, patient. If you rush, you fit make mistake. I dey listen, even as my own mind dey race for mama.

I ask am if medicine dey cure blindness.

My voice soft, hope dey small. For my heart, I dey pray say maybe this old man fit bring light back to mama eyes.

After I explain mama own, he shake head sadly.

His eyes dark, voice low. The sadness dey clear, like cloud for rainy season. For our place, some wounds medicine no fit cure.

“If dem stab person blind, e no get cure.”

His voice soft, but sure. My hope break, tears gather for my eye, but I hold am back.

“So wetin be the point of learning this medicine? I no wan learn again.”

My anger strong, pain dey carry my voice. For my heart, I dey wonder why world dey wicked, why good thing dey always run from me.