Deep within the swamp, Agwé lives a peaceful life among his family and animal friends, with whom he shares a special gift. That is, until his life is torn asunder and he is driven from his home by the voodoo spirits. Lost and alone, he wanders the...
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"Be strong, Agwé. Be an honor to your family members that have now joined the realm of spirits. You are still young, with much to learn, but your heart will carry you through. Above all else, trust in the spirits. They will be your guide. There may come a time when you question their motives, but rest assured they will lead you in the ways that you should go. That much has always been certain to me. I love you. I will make contact when you are ready. We will see each other again," said Mama, tears falling down her cheeks.
Those quivering words would carve themselves into the depths of my memory. I would replay them countless times, as they were the last words I heard her speak before I left the swamp. We shared one final bear hug, each of us reluctant to let go. But let go, we did. And with that, I swung my knapsack over my shoulder and left the only home I had ever known.
Having no idea where to go, I figured I would start walking towards the sun as it began its western descent down the horizon. Everything felt surreal. Like wandering through a dream. Looking back, I realize I was in a state of shock. My feet carried me out of the village and into the marshlands I knew so well from my childhood.
Every landmark I passed seemed to have a story tied with it. My life replayed before my eyes as I passed those familiar spots. Carrying an old turtle safely across that busy pathway there. Would I ever see my animal friends again? That watering hole there, my cousins and I would swing from the vines of a nearby tree and cannonball into the refreshing water below. But my cousins were gone now. My uncles and aunts, too. Even Gran. Painful thoughts. Agonizing thoughts.
I soon found myself standing on the banks of the Kammasa River, the boundary separating Bayou Nwa from the outside world. New Hanover, that was the name of our neighboring region. I was unfamiliar with the place. The folk's customs there were guaranteed to be mighty different than my own. After a long look back, and a big lump forming in my throat, I waded across the river and set off into the woods of this new land, following the sun as it sunk ever lower in the sky.
As night began to fall, my emotional numbness from the day was starting to fade. It was replaced with torment, as I replayed the events of the past night in my mind. I began to run, becoming more distressed with every stride. I should have stayed in the village and fought the attackers, or tried some other way to help my family during the onslaught. Instead, I hid in the mud like a coward. Would it have done any good? Odds were I would have died in the process, but could I have saved anyone else through my efforts? It all happened so fast.
I kept Mama safe, I continued to repeat to myself, but the guilt was becoming overwhelming.
I ran many miles that night before becoming aware of my burning lungs and aching legs, and decided I better set up camp for the night. These forests were much different than the ones I was familiar with. Trees with needles instead of leaves. Definitely more of a chill to the air. No fireflies, but there was at least the familiar trilling of crickets out in the surrounding darkness.
