We exchanged addresses and shook hands.
"It has been a terrible month," Ezekiel said. "Every night I sleep in the park. I have been asking God to help me, but I have been very afraidI have never slept outside before." He wiped at his eyes, then managed a smile. "Last night when I prayed, God said tomorrow he would help."
He walked across the park, turning several times to look back at me, and finally disappeared among the jeepneys and buses clogging Roxas Boulevard. I studied my map and was relieved to see that he was, in fact, headed in the general direction of the bus station.
Copyright 2000. Brad Newsham. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced without written permission from the publisher, Travelers' Tales Inc
Blood at the Root
"A gripping, timely, and important examination of American racism."
- PW Starred Review
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