These pieces explore the far-reaching complexity of orphanhood and look at orphan narratives from alternative perspectives. The first piece imagines a dialogue between the characters Amari and her daughter Afi after the conclusion of Copper Sun and explores how far orphanhood extends through family lines. The conversation points to the potential damage inflicted by not only orphanhood, but family history.
In a similar way, the second piece begins with the questions, "Are there times when one may choose orphanhood because of one's family history?" "Are these choices ever necessary or justified?" The letter portrays one imagined response to these questions. Inspirations for the letter come from Terrence Malick's film, The Tree of Life, William Faulkner's short story, "The Bear," and the parable of the Prodigal Son in the Gospel of Luke.
In a similar way, the second piece begins with the questions, "Are there times when one may choose orphanhood because of one's family history?" "Are these choices ever necessary or justified?" The letter portrays one imagined response to these questions. Inspirations for the letter come from Terrence Malick's film, The Tree of Life, William Faulkner's short story, "The Bear," and the parable of the Prodigal Son in the Gospel of Luke.
A Delicate Conversation: Ten Years after Copper Sun
Between Amari and her daughter Afi
"Mother, tell me about Uncle Kwasi again."
"Kwasi was gentle and quicker than a mongoose. He would have loved to play with you. He would not be too old to play with you if he were alive still. He would be as old as your brother Timothy."
"I wish that we could play together. And what about your mother and father?"
"Mother would have loved to watch you growing up here. She would have taught you how to cook the finest food and learn the ways of the earth. And father would have been the proudest grandfather. He would have weaved beautiful garments for you and told you all the stories of our people better than I could."
"Are you proud of me, mother?"
"Of course, my Afi. You are my life. You have the spirit that carried me here in you. There is not a day that goes by that I am not grateful for you."
"What about my father? Is he proud of me?"
"I have told you of your father."
"You never tell any stories about him, though. What stories will I tell my children about my father?"
"Kwasi was gentle and quicker than a mongoose. He would have loved to play with you. He would not be too old to play with you if he were alive still. He would be as old as your brother Timothy."
"I wish that we could play together. And what about your mother and father?"
"Mother would have loved to watch you growing up here. She would have taught you how to cook the finest food and learn the ways of the earth. And father would have been the proudest grandfather. He would have weaved beautiful garments for you and told you all the stories of our people better than I could."
"Are you proud of me, mother?"
"Of course, my Afi. You are my life. You have the spirit that carried me here in you. There is not a day that goes by that I am not grateful for you."
"What about my father? Is he proud of me?"
"I have told you of your father."
"You never tell any stories about him, though. What stories will I tell my children about my father?"
A Letter of Dissent
From a son to a father
Joshua,
I will not call you father. I will never call you father again.
To call you father would be to give you claim over my life. You will not have claim over me anymore. I no longer belong to you.
You said that a son must learn the ways of his family. Learn the trade of his father. Continue the family line. Keep up the family tradition.
Why do you speak of tradition when you mean submission? What trade do you practice besides exercising your will over everything and everyone you see? If you would have me learn these ways, I would rather choose not to be your son. I would not have this as my inheritance.
Today I leave you behind. To stay would be to leave the blinders over my eyes. To see the world only as you would have me see it. I must see the world anew. I leave your shadow behind me, the shadow that always hovered over me, that tried to shape me to its own image. If you think that you ever knew me, you did not. You could not. You only tried to see yourself in me.
I leave to find more fertile ground. Where I go is my choice. You will not find me because I have unburdened myself of the name you gave me.
You are dead to me, as I am to you.
I will not call you father. I will never call you father again.
To call you father would be to give you claim over my life. You will not have claim over me anymore. I no longer belong to you.
You said that a son must learn the ways of his family. Learn the trade of his father. Continue the family line. Keep up the family tradition.
Why do you speak of tradition when you mean submission? What trade do you practice besides exercising your will over everything and everyone you see? If you would have me learn these ways, I would rather choose not to be your son. I would not have this as my inheritance.
Today I leave you behind. To stay would be to leave the blinders over my eyes. To see the world only as you would have me see it. I must see the world anew. I leave your shadow behind me, the shadow that always hovered over me, that tried to shape me to its own image. If you think that you ever knew me, you did not. You could not. You only tried to see yourself in me.
I leave to find more fertile ground. Where I go is my choice. You will not find me because I have unburdened myself of the name you gave me.
You are dead to me, as I am to you.