Revival History

WARNING! PHOTO BELOW ARE NOT MET FOR THE WEAK HEART. Please note: The following subject matter is of immense importance, but could be difficult to read. There is a Frank Discussion Of Rape And Other Atrocities Committed During War. After entering a large museum in one of the world’s most ancient cities and the former capital of the Chinese empire, Nanking—or Nanjing as it’s known today—my 18-year-old daughter Sophia and I walked over a glass walkway that allowed us to look down 10 feet of earth and observe an ancient footpath. Lights highlighted the ground under the glass while the room we were in was dark.  To our right hung numerous photographs on a black wall showing Japanese soldiers slaughtering Chinese citizens in December 1937 revealed by individual lights, the types one sees on art museum paintings. Dead babies, severed heads, piles of bodies on Yangtze River banks, and helpless prisoners of war were all documented there by photographs taken by the perpetrators themselves, ...

The story is not for the weak if you know you are not strong enough please do yourself a favor by not reading this because if you do you will cry your eyes out.  Title: What’s the worst thing that happened to you that nobody believes?* They called it “the year the river took everything” in my village. 2009. I was 11. We lived by the Volta River in Ghana. Poor, but we had each other. My mom, my 3 younger brothers, and me. Dad died 2 years before. That rainy season the river didn’t stop. For 17 days straight it rained. The elders said they’d never seen it like that.  On day 18, at 3am, we heard screaming. “Water! Water!” The river broke its bank.  We ran. No shoes, no clothes, just my mom dragging us 3 kids by the hand. My youngest brother Kofi was 4. He couldn’t keep up. The water was already at our knees, then our waists.  My mom turned back for him. She pushed me + my other brother into a tree and said “Climb. Don’t look down. Don’t let go.” I climbed 3 branches up....

*What’s the most heartbreaking thing you discovered after someone died?* My dad and I fought like enemies. When I was 14, I told him I wanted to be an artist. He slammed the table and said “Artists don’t eat. Get a real job.”   I called him a dinosaur. He called me a dreamer.   For 10 years, we only talked about weather, money, and “have you eaten”. I thought he didn’t love me. I thought love had to be soft, and his was always hard edges. He died at 54. Heart attack. Quick. No goodbye.   At the funeral, everyone cried. I didn’t. I was too angry.   Angry that he left before I could tell him I proved him wrong.   Angry that we wasted years being stubborn instead of being father + daughter. 3 months later, the house had to be sold. I went back to pack his workshop. It smelled like wood, oil, and him. I was throwing away rusty nails when I saw it. A small black notebook, hidden under the toolbox. The leather was cracked. His handwriting was ...