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The need to call this thing “good� and this thing “bad,� this thing “white� and this thing “black,� was an impulse that Effia did not understand. In her village, everything was everything. Everything bore the weight of everything else.
Hell was a place of remembering, each beautiful moment passed through the mind’s eye until it fell to the ground like a rotten mango, perfectly useless, uselessly perfect.
Weakness is treating someone as though they belong to you. Strength is knowing that everyone belongs to themselves.�
For Akua, prayer was a frenzied chant, a language for those desires of the heart that even the mind did not recognize were there.
Forgiveness was an act done after the fact, a piece of the bad deed’s future. And if you point the people’s eye to the future, they might not see what is being done to hurt them in the present.
