This letter was written by an old, homesick clergyman yearning for a home that he has never known.
Reverend Moses Norman
001, east link street,
14th August, 1969
The family Head,
Nii Ofoli Norman,
My origin story spins a tale that not even the cleverest of writers can fathom. My parents stowed away on a cargo ship that was bound for London in the year 1918. Per my father’s account, they were huddled up in the cargo hold for nearly a month, surviving on cocoa beans and the water that condensed on the windows. To the detriment of their scheme, they were discovered before the ship reached London and were consequently cast off at a port in Serbia. In the years that followed, my mother and father lived and worked as surfs for Oligarchs. I was born four months after my parents…
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