Imani, blissfully unaware of the calamity hanging heavy in the air, waved excitedly from her mother’s arms. Her small hand swayed with joy as she looked up at her father, who sat astride his horse as he had countless times before. She flashed him a wide, toothy grin. Then she turned, noticing at last the wetness on her mother’s cheeks. Imani frowned, confused, and lifted her small palm to cup her mother’s cheek.
“Baba… come back?” she asked softly, more statement than question, as if reassuring them both. .