We must welcome our guests, then, Amari. We would never judge people simply by how they looked—that would be uncivilized…Let us prepare for a celebra… - Sharon Draper

The crowd is eventually separated, the men from the women, and shoved into a large, dark building where Amari can smell “sweat and fear…body wastes and hopelessness”

The spirit of the copper sun seemed to bleed for them as it glowed bright red against the deepening blue of the great water.

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.