In a world where families are suddenly and inexplicably separated, where life and death can come at any time, the community holds continuity and safe… - Dahlma Llanos-Figueroa

I couldn't write my stories without the constant presence of my ancestors who await me in my dreams and my meditations, whispering their stories and reminding me of what I have forgotten. This book is dedicated to them because their stories have lived for too long under the waters of the Caribbean, unrecognized and in imposed silence.
Let there be light to illuminate as-yet-to-be-told truths.

I trust my readers to make the connections that interest them. I am a fiction writer and therefore, I have a lot of latitude. I can bend time, moving historical events like natural disasters from one decade to another, in the service of my narrative. Some interpret my work as being grounded in the Latin American school of magical realism. That’s fine. Practitioners of traditional African religions recognize themselves in the symbology of my work. That’s fine too.

We need to keep telling this story, and many others, because they explain who and how and why we are here today. The problematic part of these stories is not that we have had centuries of suffering and trauma. The problem is that the storytellers, usually not us, have told only half of the tale. Yes, we have been enslaved, abused, and violated. But, more importantly, we have, not just survived, not just endured, but thrived. We found a way where there was no way.