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The students were challenged to write a scene from their life (real or imagined, but uniquely personal) from the perspective of a “second self”—a ghost-like and dispassionate observer of the action.
MOHAMED…takes us back to his roots in Mali and a soccer game on a sun-parched patch of red dirt where two well-worn sandals marked the goal and a lesson in self-confidence was learned.
That One Touch
The sun had already started to press down on the red dirt road by the time he stepped outside. The morning in Bamako was loud and bright. From the doorway, he watched his older cousin tie a worn sandal with a piece of string, like it was something important, like it mattered more than anything else they had planned.
He didn’t say anything at first. He just stood there, one hand on the doorframe, squinting into the light. A breeze moved past, carrying the smell of dust and grilled meat from somewhere down the street. It made his stomach remind him that he hadn’t eaten yet, but he ignored it.
“Are you coming or not?” his cousin asked without looking up. He nodded, even though his cousin couldn’t see him yet. Then he stepped forward, the ground already warm under his feet. The two of them started walking, not in a rush, but not slow either… just the pace of boys who had something to do, even if they hadn’t fully decided what it was.
They passed neighbors who called out greetings, voices overlapping, laughter mixing in like background music. A group of...
