The women held the children close to stay warm. The wind was blowing in from the ocean and they were cold. Where were they? They had no idea. They had survived a terrible storm. A storm so long and awful and violent it had broken the ship into pieces and sent hundreds of screaming people to their deaths. Nalla and the other women and children had somehow survived by clinging to a wooden post, a mast from the ship. The ship. A slave ship that had taken them from their homes and families and children in Africa. A ship that was now destroyed, sunk and at the bottom of the ocean, where it belonged, where it could create no more misery. A child cried and Nalla drew him close. She kissed his head and thought of her own son, over there, across the water. She cried too but only to herself.
The waves broke onto the beach not far away. Dawn was breaking and there was light in the east. The women were still naked. The cheap burlap skirts they had been given on board had been washed away in the storm. They had not eaten in days. The children wanted food but the women just sat there in the sand, beside a dune, and stared at the ocean, waiting for another day in which they had no idea what might happen. Could another ship come to take them home, take them back to Africa? Death was everywhere. Nalla had seen so much of it she wondered if she might now be dead too. Finally dead and finished with this nightmare, now going home with the spirits to see her husband and little boy.
Lovely read slowly and pronounced her words clearly, as if she had done it before. The crowd was silent, and mesmerized. Mercer watched from the side of the stage and knew she had a tough act to follow.
The women heard voices and drew even closer together. The voices of men, but calm. In the early morning light, the women could see men walking along the beach and coming their way. Dark men, with pleasant voices. Nalla called out and the men walked over. Four African men, one with a rifle. Behind them were three women, all from the ship. When they saw Nalla and the others they ran toward them and the women hugged and cried, so happy to see others who had survived the storm.
The men watched and smiled. They were shirtless and barefoot but wore the same odd britches as the white men on the ship. They spoke in a tongue the women did not understand. But the message was clear: You are safe here. You are with your people.
Lovely closed her book, said a polite “Thank you,” and walked away as the crowd stood again. Mercer gave her a hug, then walked, somewhat nervously, to the podium.
<p>3</p>
