33
" We want justice! We want justice!’ We chanted at the Western Oil Company building; the mirrored glass showed our reflections multiplied as though we were millions. This gave us courage and we shouted louder, even when the men with guns also multiplied. Then we started singing. I copied the women around me as closely as possible. Grandma had taught me many songs but I did not know that one. We sang in unison, like a choir that had been practising all year for that one song. Grandma started it. It was an Ijaw song called Wo Ekilemo. Praise him. Her voice was low and quiet, but one by one we joined in. The sound of us women singing was so powerful that the glass moved on the expensive windows, and people inside the building started shutting the windows, even the high-up ones. The slams made us sing even louder. I imagined the white men on the other side of the windows, watching us as they drank their tea. I wondered if they understood why we were protesting. I wondered if they even cared. The security men waving their guns started swaying, as if their bodies were disobeying their commands. They were Ijaw, too, you see. They removed their hats, and rocked from side to side. I sang loudly until the part that said ‘I have overcome death, poverty and sickness’. I could not sing that part. My mind kept flashing to Ezikiel’s face. But then I joined in again, and our voices rose so high I thought they might reach Allah’s ears. Then we all took off our clothes. ‘There is nothing more powerful than a naked woman,’ Grandma said. ‘Nothing in the world. "
― Christie Watson , Tiny Sunbirds, Far Away
