Bole Ny [portable] -
“Are you Kwame?” the young man asked.
Kwame walked to the river where he and Ny had once caught tilapia with their bare hands. He knelt at the bank and washed the rust from the tag until it gleamed faintly in the afternoon light. Then he went home, hung the tag on a nail above his sleeping mat, and cooked a small meal of boiled plantains and groundnut soup. He set two bowls on the floor. bole ny
The young man sat down in the dust. He opened his satchel and pulled out a small, flat object wrapped in cloth. “My name is Kofi,” he said. “I am a social worker. I have been tracing family histories for a documentary about the war.” “Are you Kwame
Every morning, Kwame sat at the fork. He greeted the sunrise. He listened to the weaver birds argue in the baobab. And he watched the road. Then he went home, hung the tag on
He simply nodded.