He remembered his grandfather’s last words: “When the world forgets how to walk, you must play the drum for its feet.”
“That is the sound of a man dancing even when his pocket is empty,” Nnanna said, tapping Chuka’s chest. “Listen.” igbo highlife songs
Chuka turned up the volume. The horns wailed. The guitar shimmered. And for four hours, nobody checked their phone. They held each other’s hands, closed their eyes, and remembered—not just songs, but a way of carrying sorrow lightly, of making joy from thin air. He remembered his grandfather’s last words: “When the