There’s the sound of a commotion nearby. At the far end of the garden, children hyped up on fizzy drinks are bouncing in an excited circle around Sam, who is pretending to spar with pint-sized fists. Soon enough it’s five against one. The youngest ones, three- or four-year-old twins by Efe’s estimation, hang around a leg each. And more kids race across the garden, ignoring their parents’ half-hearted calls to leave Sam alone. It takes eight of them to bring him to his knees. Sam falls slowly, his cries exaggerated, one arm stretched toward the sky before he’s lost beneath the bundle.
