incoming teju cole

The night before everything came to an end, Ms. Prosper finally agreed to sing for us.

- TEJU COLE

She was a serious woman, a small woman with a heavy manner, though some later recalled a twinkle in her eye, and others a dry sense of humor.

I remember only that her presence was full of undescribed life and uncheapened by conclusions.

But, ah, when she began to sing, the seriousness was like oil she had saved for a day of need. The song came out of her light and young, a hint at what she must have been before we knew her. She held the final note of each phrase for a long time.

As we listened to the song that night in the apartment, a song in a dialect with few living speakers, a song she sang with no gesture toward her previous fame, the things that were to bring an end to everything were already happening.

We had been compromised. The next morning, Ms. Prosper and the other leaders were arrested and taken to –––––.

Mint goes right to your head. Its leaves are pebbled leather. Thyme is the stubborn memory of wood, with a trace of cloves. Sage has large, outstretched gray-green hands. Rosemary is the pine’s twin sister.

SWIMMING IN LAKE OSO

Beyond the circle was a clearing. Beyond the clearing, the forest began. Our group had a plan: when the bus came the next morning, that would be the moment to make a break for it. Some of us would be captured. Some might even be killed. But not all of us could be captured or killed: some would reach the trees, and our plan was made in recognition of that hope.

She was afraid. She went to the Guide, and he told her not to be afraid. Then he prayed for her. The Guide was a man of God; he was the person to talk to when your courage was failing. But I was an atheist—it wasn’t my scene.

That night, the Guide drew me aside. He knew the prayers, he said, but he did not know if he believed anymore. I am utterly terrified, he said to me.