The Dragons, the Giant, the Women, стр. 21
Amos decided that he would try his luck east into Ivory Coast and then Ghana, and he parted ways with us after the second checkpoint. He walked into Papa’s chest and thanked him, crying like a spanked child.
“I will pray for y’all,” Amos said as tears plunged to the ground from his face. “I owe you.”
“Do not worry, Amos. We will be back soon. This thing will finish soon, yeh?” Papa said.
“Yeh,” Amos answered slowly.
By the final checkpoint I had barely any more power to give to the giant; however, I stayed close to his side. We had not eaten all day, because the giant wanted to make sure that we reached Junde by night, so as my stomach twisted with hunger I squeezed the giant’s pants to give him all of the juice that I had left in me.
Again, Torma took my hand as the giant approached the men.
“Stand and be recognized,” they said. Papa stepped forward.
“Where you people from?” I heard a soldier ask him. Another soldier nodded at Ma and she pushed our backs to walk ahead to the end of the checkpoint. The same man pointed at Brother James to stand in line with Papa and continued to sort through the escapers. Papa’s university card had worked so far, and as we moved to the front of the line to cross the checkpoint Ma turned around and stopped so that we could wait for him to pass with us across the final checkpoint.
The giant was taking longer than during the previous checkpoints, and as he spoke to the soldier the man’s nostrils flared and he beckoned more soldiers to come to him. Brother James was cleared and nearly jogged toward us.
“What’s wrong?” Brother James asked when he reached us and noticed Ma’s distressed face.
“The people still asking him questions,” she murmured.
There were three soldiers around Papa now. One of them yelled at the other one and touched the trigger and head of his rifle in front of him.
“Come,” Brother James said and we returned to where Papa stood.
Before we reached him, one of the dragon’s men took Papa’s arm and pushed him toward a line on the side of the road where men stood with their hands behind their backs and looked out onto the road, looked down to the ground with what looked like water around their eyes, or knelt on the ground with folded hands, screaming things like:
“Please-oh! I hold your foot!”
And not too far from the line to which they pushed Papa, there were men lying on the ground. How could they sleep at a time like this? Didn’t they know the giant needed them?
“But my daughters!” Papa said. The soldier continued to push Papa while another pointed the nose of the gun at his head, the air boiling around him.
“Take them to the booth,” another said when he noticed us.
“You all hurry,” he said underneath his breath as we all entered the booth on the side of the road, a small room with a window that faced where Papa and the other men stood.
“What’s happening? Where’s Papa?” Wi asked before looking out of the window to find Papa among the men waiting in the line.
The men in the line were other Gola and Congo men, someone passing said. During wartime, a man will not only find the person he hates to kill him, but he will find and kill anyone whom he thinks the person he hates loves or knows or once did business with. Papa looked at Ma from outside the window.
“Ay-man!” Brother James said, slapping the wall of the booth. He leaned against the wall and buried his face in his hand.
“What we can do?” Ma asked as she tapped his arm.
“Nothing-oh,” he murmured.
“What Papa doing?” Wi asked Ma again.
Ma sat on a small stool in the corner of the booth and while rocking back and forth, she raised her hands into the air and shouted questions to God. Torma attempted to pull us away from the window.
“No,” Wi said, pushing her hand.
I tapped the window in hopes of getting the giant’s attention. He glanced at me, not as though he was happy to see me, but as though I was doing something wrong and he wanted me to stop. I continued and was joined by my sisters. He was a giant and I knew that he would be able to rescue himself from that line and rescue us from that box on the road. Torma stepped away from us and leaned beside Brother James against the wall; she held herself and sniveled softly. I was a “big geh” now with no hand on my back to soothe me as Papa’s face grew pitch black in the last of the golden sun. The soldiers who were not questioning other escapers paced in front of the booth as my sisters and I continued tapping. The giant looked out onto the road.
Wi started crying first, and I wanted to be stronger for my family in the booth, and my hero outside, but I cried as well and with both of my palms I beat on the window of the booth with my sisters. K followed our lead, although she walked back and forth from the window to Ma’s side, where Ma continued to pray, ignoring my small sister’s plea for attention and reassurance.
“Papa! What Papa doing?” Wi screamed through a fury of tears and spit as she pounded the window. We pounded. We beat to overpower the drums. The guns. We pounded.
“Papa, come let’s go!” I shouted, wanting him to fly to us and gather us up in his arms.
A passing soldier came to the door of the booth,