Right To Dream

There were four dead bodies floating in a reservoir near our house. My neighbors said they’re all black and that they all came from a place far away from here. I never saw the bodies to check if they’re skin color was really different from mine, and I was too afraid to watch corpses with blank faces. My neighbors also said that the four black people killed each other because of a brown bread, but Papa had a different version of the story.

Papa was there, he said to me last night, standing over the highest part of the dam when the horrible event happened. It was a week ago. I was in school at that time so I didn’t know if what my father saw was real. But I had always been a believer of him, so I listened to him all night.

It was seven in the morning, Papa said, when he first saw four black people walking near the destroyed church. They were wearing plain white T-shirts and black shorts. Papa was sure they’re a family – a helpless family walking around the town for financial help: Two of them in their forties, a little boy – maybe three or four years old, and a young lady.