Butter Honey Pig Bread

by Francesca Ekwuyasi

Of course, Taiye thought, when she saw the woman from the tea shop and the ferry. The woman stood addressing the overflowing community room on the third floor of the public library. With all the seats occupied, many people stood against the white wall at the back of the room, and others sat on the carpeted floor at the front. As Taiye walked in, the woman said, “I just want to start by acknowledging that we are on unceded Mi’kmaq territory.” She pushed up the sleeves of her white button-down. “I would like to request a moment of silent reflection on the violence and injustice that Indigenous peoples have suffered historically and currently face in this country.” The woman’s voice was silver smoke; it carried through the crowded glass-walled community room, which fell silent at her request.