me. 'A rebel commander caught your mother,' the town chief of
Massabolahun told me, 'and believe me, Sherif, for I was there when it
happened. He fired a whole round at her and not a single bullet
touched her. Yours is a unique family. It was not a bullet that killed
your mother, but illness.' I did not believe him. In this anecdote,
rendered so beautifully, lay the stark truth. My mother was killed by
a rebel. In a tradition where truth takes on many forms, I had been
spared the pain of the hard truth by another, less painful truth. In
subsequent days, I learned to live with that truth.'
from PlaceNames, by Liberian writer, Vamba Sherif, in AW10, the latest
edition of African Writing (www.african-writing.com)
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