![]() Ibura insisted she remove her cardigan because the classroom was stuffy and Diola was soaking sweat. Everyone in class saw them crisscrossed across her arm when Ms. Nduka knew what would happen if he risked letting anyone know about the words that had appeared on his body.ĭiola was the first person to have words appear on her body. He stopped playing football at the open field near St Dodo’s Chapel, lying to his friends that he sprained his ankle, and started tying his towel a little below his chest when he went to bathe. ![]() ![]() The words appeared on his body the morning after the latest towering pile of books had been burnt in front of the library. The resistance will no longer be written in books, it will be written on our skin. After Rev Mujojo’s latest sermon about the evils of subversive texts on Monday evening, Uncle Nnamdi had followed them home and taken the book despite Aniele’s pleadings that she would never open the book, that she would stash it away at the bottom of her late husband’s trunk, that the book was the only thing her husband left that Uncle Nnamdi had not already taken away. It was the last gift Nduka’s father had given to his mother before he died. He knows where the words are from a book of poetry his mother used to keep on the center-table in the parlor. “The resistance will no longer be written in books, it will be written on our skin.” He says this slowly, as if he is tasting every word. He stands in front of the mirror and looks at the string of words that snails along his belly. The boy tiptoes to the door and gently bolts it before unbuttoning his school shirt. “Yes Mama,” Nduka answers from his bedroom. “Nduka, you better hurry or you’ll be late for school! Your breakfast is getting cold and you know you don’t like when curds form in your pap!” Aniele calls from the kitchen. Our Skin Will Now Bear the Testimonies by Innocent Chizaram Ilo
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