When she found homes that housed human remains, Naija wouldn’t allow anyone else to handle the bodies—she would do that herself. She would wrap them carefully in whatever blankets we could spare, bundle them into a wheelbarrow, if she could find one, and take them away. I asked her about what she did with them, but she never told me. All she would say is “They are human beings,” giving me a strange look, as if I was wrong even to ask the question.
