Rafa collapsed to his knees, Diogo in his arms, in front of Gogo at the base of the tree. The rest of the family rushed over, gathering around.
“Here, give him to me.” Gogo held out her arms.
Rafa bent and kissed Diogo’s forehead, delivering his favorite son, into his great grandmother’s care.
Gogo supported the boy’s head and draped his limp body across her lap, inspecting his thigh wound. She ran her bent fingers along Diogo’s forehead, stroking it softly.
“Josepha bring water, my medicine gourd and some rags.” Gogo closed her eyes, raised up her chin, gently rocking her body back and forth. She whispered a prayer that shifted into song in her native tongue. Bagamba joined in. Everyone else remained somber and silent, listening.
“The water,” Gogo said.
Josepha’s hands shook violent
