he watched feigning despair as i got caught off guard, tipped overboard into unfamiliar choppy waters, & even though i’m an avid swimmer, began to drown as if Mami Wata was trying to give me a permanent hug.

i didn’t yet know she was baptizing me.

he held out a floating ring from the white shore while marilyn was the lifeguard that dove in to lift me up.

he seemingly cheered us on, witnessing me barely break the surface and gasping for air as my shallow breaths slowly but surely got deeper.

my salt-stained vision missed how the tips of his mouth actually curved into a smirk, taking pleasure in securing an unrivaled vantage point to my trial as if it might grant him promotion and protection from the contretemps cloaked in our surroundings.

he yanked back the raft he had offered which was fine because it pushed me to build up my stroke and endurance to swim on my own.

but it was too much to see my doggy paddle grow from scratch and the courage it required to stretch my limbs towards life.

as a true coward would, he tried to drown me again which was a silly endeavor since i had been born again as an amphibian.

i thrashed hitting enough pertinent licks until he eventually scattered from around me.

he didn’t realize Mami Wata had enhanced and was continuously reinforcing my strength. he forgot that our ancestors chose the water as their rebellion and would not let me die by his oppressive hands.

sure, i fought to keep my head above water, but that was purely out of spite. i had already adapted to thrive in the murkiness he figured would kill me.

he could never drown me and his only options were to quit or die trying.