When she and her family arrived in Kosawa a week later, we beat the drums hard, and Sonni and the elders poured libations, and we all marveled at how she had returned so unlike the girl who had left Kosawa and yet entirely like the girl who had left Kosawa, still in possession of the worst singing voice, but no longer of few words, happier, dancing with the women, playing with the children, free, a bird back in its nest.
We brought up the necessity of acquiring guns on the second day of her visit. It was at night, after one of our wives had fed us and we had moved to the village square so we could be just the six of us, sitting under the mango tree, above which a half-moon looked terribly lonely. A few days before we went to Bézam to welcome her home, we had argued about the best way to present our request to her—as a group or one to one, considering the amount of persuasion that would be needed. Ultimately, we decided to do it together, confident that the transformation she’d written to us about was temporary. How long could she sustain the belief that we could love our way to freedom?
It didn’t take many minutes for us to realize we’d been mistaken in doubting her.
There was nothing but conviction in her eyes as she spoke about great men whose lives and works she’d been studying closely, men who had changed their countries without committing acts of destruction or shedding blood. We could do it too, she said, by bringing our enemies to our side, breaking down the wall that stands between them and us, showing them that our children are their children, their children are our children; that was what her father died for, to tell people in Bézam that truth.
She would have talked till morning if one of us hadn’t interjected to say that, though we agreed with what she was saying—and we’d certainly join her in uniting citizens to oust His Excellency—we also believed that it was time for Kosawa to acquire guns.
—
Who are you going to kill? she asked after a long silence.
Only those who seek to hurt us, we said. Soldiers had arrived in Kosawa and slaughtered our families and friends, and we could do nothing. They threatened our lives, and we could do nothing. They had humiliated us countless times in front of our children, and every time we could do nothing to them, because they owned guns and we didn’t. They swaggered into our village, and we had no power to tell them to leave. Didn’t she think that it was only prudent for us to be able to stand up against them in the future?
She shook her head.
No, she said. We can’t do it. If we are to stand for peace, we are to stand for peace at all times. How can we speak of making peace with them while planning to kill them?
We’re not planning to kill them, we said. We won’t resume any attacks on Gardens. We won’t threaten the laborers. The guns will be solely to protect ourselves in the event of another attack. We cannot keep on speaking of peace while we remain defenseless—that would be reckless and absurd. His Excellency and Pexton have no qualms about spilling our blood for their gain; why should we not seek to combat that? We hope the day will never come when we do likewise to them, but we have to be prepared for it.
We promised her that if she provided the funds for the guns we would do all we could to see her vision of a revolution come true. As soon as she gave us the word, we would start meeting with village heads in our district and nearby districts to listen to the stories of their people’s woes of mudslides caused by government mass deforestation; lands under seizure by decrees; dying children; raping soldiers; schools with collapsed roofs. We would ask the village heads if they wanted to join us to defeat our common enemy. It’s possible some of them would dismiss us after hearing us say that we hoped to bring down His Excellency by marching. We imagine elders laughing in our face and saying: Oh, you young people, you still have the strength to be angry, what a luxury—wait and see how much angrier you’ll be when your teeth start falling out. But we would persist, no matter the ridicules, because we believe, as she does, that victory is possible. Without the guns, though, we couldn’t commit ourselves to her ideals.
—
Whatever joy she had brought to Kosawa was gone from her face the next morning.
Still, she forced herself to smile during the meeting she had with the entire village just before she left to return to Bézam to start her government job. Standing in the square, beside Sonni, she told the gathering that the time had come for us make our final push to save Kosawa. She said she would need everyone to join in the efforts as much as their bodies allowed—the village stood a chance only if we were united. She promised to come back as often as she could.
After she was done talking, before she got into the car with her mother and brother, our wives and children took turns hugging her. She stooped to receive blessings from the elders, who assured her that they were behind her, the ancestors and the Spirit were behind her, all of Kosawa would add their strength and hope to hers.
She returned for a visit a month later, but she had no response for us about the guns. We got no response the next month either. Eager as we were, we did not pressure her, for it was obvious in her demeanor how torn she was on the matter. The state of
