It moved closer, and the man had begun playing his tune again. Ajofia was swaying to the melody. Bouncing. The smell of smoke, forests burning. It shivered, dust and dirt puffing from it. It was a higher spirit. A great honor for my father, who was inches from me, dead. Ajofia blocked out the world behind it. I could not see my relatives in the light of the house or the men who’d accompanied Ajofia in the night. I could only smell thick smoke and dirt and the dust it shook at me. The breath of something. My eyes and throat stung.
