The white beam of the Masasani lighthouse swept across the black, choppy waters of the bay, cutting through the thick sea fog like a silver blade. In the open fiber canoe, the freezing salt spray hit my face, mixing with the hot, bitter tears that I couldn't stop from falling. My arms ached, my muscles burning with a fierce, tearing agony as I dug the wooden oars into the heavy current, forcing the small boat away from the concrete foundations of the mansion.
Behind us, inside the dark colonial cellar, Doctor Chaulo stood alone. His tall frame was illuminated for a split second by the flashlights of the state security officers, his right hand still clutching the heavy iron tire iron, his chest heaving with pain under his blood soaked khanga bandage. He was sacrificing his own freedom, sta
