Amari's home, the small African village of Ziavi, is described lovingly:
“Amari loved the rusty brown dirt of Ziavi. The path, hard-packed from thousands of bare feet that had trod on it for decades, was flanked on both sides by fat, fruit-laden mango trees, the sweet smell of which always seemed to welcome her home.”
The village is welcoming, symbolized by the "hard-packed" path. Anyone who makes their way to this place can expect kindness....
Amari's home, the small African village of Ziavi, is described lovingly:
“Amari loved the rusty brown dirt of Ziavi. The path, hard-packed from thousands of bare feet that had trod on it for decades, was flanked on both sides by fat, fruit-laden mango trees, the sweet smell of which always seemed to welcome her home.”
The village is welcoming, symbolized by the "hard-packed" path. Anyone who makes their way to this place can expect kindness. The village is also plentiful, as seen by the "fruit-laden" trees that line the path. The huts that the villagers call home are arranged close together because the people draw strength from each other and support one another. The villagers are proud of their historical values; their strong traditions of hospitality are displayed in juxtaposition to the travesty of the destruction of the village. When the village is invaded by white slave traders, it is even more obscene because of the love and welcome the Ziavi people showed the men. The peaceful African village stands in sharp contrast to the cruel new world in America.
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