From "Zimbabwe"

IV. The government thought we were terrorists because we looked at a house. White people would never live in such a house, they thought. My parents were held for hours, questions, questions, questions. While my brother and sister and I cried in the car, answerless, soldiers practiced shooting sacks of corn meal. The weight, they said, the weight was accurate to judge. V. My parents read us the Passover story and I waited in bed for some dark stranger to brush my hair back and say, Yes I will take you into the dark made of mothers’ wailings, I will show you what it means to shed blood.