village, even on the days Baaba did her best to smother it, covering the baby
’
s
lips with the rough palm of her left hand.
“
Love her,
”
Cobbe commanded, as though love were as simple an act as
lifting food up from an iron plate and past one
’
s lips. At night, Baaba
dreamed of leaving the baby in the dark forest so that the god Nyame could
do with her as he pleased.
E
ffi
a grew older. The summer after her third birthday, Baaba had her
fi
rst son. The boy
’
s name was Fii
fi
, and he was so fat that sometimes, when
Baaba wasn
’
t looking, E
ffi
a would roll him along the ground like a ball. The
fi
rst day that Baaba let E
ffi
a hold him, she accidentally dropped him. The
baby bounced on his buttocks, landed on his stomach, and looked up at
everyone in the room, confused as to whether or not he should cry. He
decided against it, but Baaba, who had been stirring
banku,
lifted her stirring
stick and beat E
ffi
a across her bare back. Each time the stick lifted o
ff
the
girl
’
s body, it would leave behind hot, sticky pieces of
banku
that burned into
her
fl
esh. By the time Baaba had
fi
nished, E
ffi
a was covered with sores,
screaming and crying. From the
fl
oor, rolling this way and that on his belly,
Fii
fi
looked at E
ffi
a with his saucer eyes but made no noise.
Cobbe came home to
fi
nd his other wives attending to E
ffi
a
’
s wounds
and understood immediately what had happened. He and Baaba fought well
into the night. E
ffi
a could hear them through the thin walls of the hut where
she lay on the
fl
oor, drifting in and out of a feverish sleep. In her dream,
Cobbe was a lion and Baaba was a tree. The lion plucked the tree from the
ground where it stood and slammed it back down. The tree stretched its
branches in protest, and the lion ripped them o
ff
, one by one. The tree,
horizontal, began to cry red ants that traveled down the thin cracks between
its bark. The ants pooled on the soft earth around the top of the tree trunk.
And so the cycle began. Baaba beat E
ffi
a. Cobbe beat Baaba. By the
time E
ffi
a had reached age ten, she could recite a history of the scars on her
body. The summer of 1764, when Baaba broke yams across her back. The
spring of 1767, when Baaba bashed her left foot with a rock, breaking her big
toe so that it now always pointed away from the other toes. For each scar on
E
ffi
a
’
s body, there was a companion scar on Baaba
’
s, but that didn
’
t stop
mother from beating daughter, father from beating mother.