The Drums of War

Panel 1:Wide establishing shot of a mud-brick schoolroom in 1955 Abomey. Narrow windows cut fierce white bars of sunlight across the room. Children in European-style school clothes sit at wooden benches. At the front, Sister Adeline stands rigid in her spotless white habit and starched wimple, a framed Sacred Heart on the wall behind her. Flies hover at the windows. Houéfa sits at the front bench, back straight, blue cotton dress clinging with sweat, tight braids pulling at her scalp. Dossi sits beside her, round face alert. Gbodja sits behind them, shirt untucked on one side, closely cropped head gleaming with perspiration.

Narrator:“Abomey, Dahomey — 1955.”

Panel 2:Medium shot on Sister Adeline, pale face pink from heat, moisture along her upper lip. Her expression is severe, chin lifted. One finger taps her wooden rosary beads at her waist.

“Sister Adeline: The Agojie were heathens. They worshipped false gods and carried out the king's cruelest orders.”

Panel 3:Close-up on Houéfa and Dossi side by side. Houéfa's brow is furrowed, her expression grave and skeptical. Dossi looks at her sister with an equally confused face, mouth slightly open.

Panel 4:Medium shot of Gbodja on his bench behind the girls. His hand is raised, chin up, defiant. Several children around him have turned to look. Sister Adeline stares across the room at him from the front.

“Gbodja: Our father says they were great warriors.”

Panel 5:Over-the-shoulder shot from behind Houéfa, looking toward Sister Adeline at the front. Houéfa's hand is raised high. Sister Adeline's mouth is tight, her expression cautious. The framed Sacred Heart hangs on the wall above her.

“Houéfa: If they were poor soldiers, why did the French need rifles and cannon to defeat them?”

Panel 1:Medium shot of Sister Adeline placing her book firmly on the desk. Her jaw is set, her expression controlled but strained. The chalk dust swirls around her.

“Sister Adeline: The Agojie were undisciplined women. Courage could not overcome modern weapons.”

Panel 2:Wide shot of the schoolyard as children burst through the gates into afternoon sunlight. Dust rises around bare feet and worn sandals. Voices fill the air. Houéfa, Dossi, and Gbodja walk together along the red-earth road, their shadows long ahead of them. Beyond the schoolyard, low red-brown walls and mango trees spread beneath a bleached sky.

Narrator:“The bell rang before anyone could ask another question.”

Panel 3:Medium shot of the three children walking together on the red-earth road. Dossi gestures expressively. Gbodja kicks a stone from the path. Houéfa walks with her arms folded, thinking.

“Gbodja: Sister Adeline says they were heathens. Dossi: Sister Adeline is French.”

Panel 4:Medium shot of Houéfa walking, looking straight ahead with a firm expression. Her school dress is dusty at the hem from the road.

“Houéfa: Dying does not mean they could not fight. Losing is not the same thing.”

Panel 5:Wide shot of the family compound entrance. The house is built of earth the color of dried blood, walls cool and faintly damp. A low roof casts deep shade across the doorway. In the yard beyond the crooked wooden gate, Nana Sika is bent over a cooking fire, stirring with a long wooden spoon. Steam rolls from the pot. A hen scratches among cassava plants nearby.

Narrator:“The room always carried the smell of Sika's life — woodsmoke, dried leaves, old wicker, pipe tobacco.”

Panel 1:Close-up on Nana Sika's face in profile, lit by the cooking fire. She is tall and broad-shouldered, slightly stooped but not broken. Short silver-threaded hair at her temples. Fine ceremonial marks on her lined cheeks. A pale scar circles her left wrist. Her dark eyes are clear and sharp.

“Gbodja: We learnt about the Agojie today, Nana.”

Panel 2:Medium shot of Sika still stirring the pot, her back to the children. The wooden spoon has slowed. Her broad shoulders are still. A hen pecks at the ground near her feet.

“Gbodja: Sister Adeline says they were heathens. Sika: Perhaps they believed in different gods.”

Panel 3:Medium shot of Houéfa watching Sika closely, arms at her sides. Her expression is grave and alert, noticing something the others do not.

“Houéfa: She says the Agojie were poor warriors. Father says the opposite. Which one is true?”

Panel 4:Medium shot of Sika turning to face the three children. Her right hand has closed around her left wrist, directly over the pale scar. Her feet have shifted slightly, one ahead of the other. Her expression is composed but firm.

“Sika: They were fierce warriors. Very well trained. Very dangerous.”

Panel 5:Close-up on Sika's left wrist and right hand. The right hand grips the wrist tightly. The pale scar is clearly visible circling the wrist like a permanent bracelet. Her fingers are strong and creased with age.

“Gbodja: How do you know, Nana? Sika: Old people hear many things.”

Panel 1:Wide shot of the family compound interior at night. Sika's oil lamp stands on an upturned crate, turning the earthen walls honey-colored, throwing shadows high into the rafters. Moths batter the glass chimney. Houéfa sits closest to the lamp, long legs folded, cotton wrapper on. Dossi leans against her shoulder, eyes heavy. Gbodja crouches rather than sits, ready to spring up. Sika sits in her wicker chair, a corncob pipe in her hand, a thin curl of tobacco smoke rising.

Narrator:“When the bowls had been cleared, three expectant faces watched her through the smoke.”

Panel 2:Close-up on Sika's face in lamplight. She draws on her pipe, smoke curling past her clear dark eyes. Her expression is grave, measuring. The fine ceremonial marks on her cheeks catch the warm light.

“Sika: It is not a pretty story.”

Panel 3:Medium shot of Houéfa sitting upright beside the lamp, chin raised, meeting her grandmother's gaze directly.

“Houéfa: We did not ask for a pretty story.”

Panel 4:Medium shot of Sika in her wicker chair. The ghost of a smile crosses her face. She sets the pipe on her knee, both hands resting on it, and leans slightly forward toward the children.

“Sika: Very well. I will tell you what I know.”

Panel 1:Wide shot of the outside of the old royal compound in afternoon light. The earthen walls rise above overgrown paths in long, weathered stretches, split by roots and softened by rain. Creepers hang from crumbling sections. The path outside is red dirt, quiet and deserted. Sika walks ahead of the three children, her walking stick carried across her body rather than leaning on it, pushing vines aside. She wears her faded indigo wrapper and walks with erect posture.

Narrator:“The next afternoon, Sika was waiting at the school gates.”

Panel 2:Medium shot of Houéfa looking at the compound walls with unease. Dossi moves closer to her sister. Gbodja stares ahead with wide eyes, curious but trying to appear brave.

“Houéfa: Nana — we are not supposed to go in there. Sika: I know.”

Panel 3:Medium shot of Sika stepping through the narrow gap in the earthen wall without hesitation, vines brushing her shoulders. She does not look back.

“Sister Adeline: Sister Adeline is not with us. Sika: Come.”

Panel 4:Wide shot inside the compound. The air is green and still. Grass pushes between broken stones. Small trees grow from collapsed walls. Shells of roofless buildings stare out over weed-choked courtyards. Termite galleries climb one wall in brown veins. Lizards flash over fallen masonry. Sika leads the three children along the remains of what was once a broad thoroughfare, her walking stick clearing vines.

Panel 5:Close-up on Dossi's face, eyes wide, looking around at the ruins. She whispers to Houéfa beside her, who keeps her eyes forward.

“Dossi: Do ghosts live here? Houéfa: Be quiet.”

Panel 1:Medium shot of Sika stopping before the remains of a large rectangular building. Little more than the outer walls survive. A strangler fig grows inside, its pale roots flowing over the wall like frozen water. Shafts of afternoon sunlight fall through the leaves above. Sika faces the empty doorway, her back to the children, one hand raised and resting flat against the crumbling wall. Red dust adheres to her palm.

Panel 2:Close-up on Sika's hand pressed flat against the rough earthen wall. Red dust settles into the creases of her scarred fingers. The pale wrist scar is visible at the edge of frame.

Panel 3:Wide shot from inside the ruin looking outward. Sika stands in the broken doorway, silhouetted against the green afternoon light. The three children stand in a row behind her, small against the crumbling walls and encroaching jungle. The strangler fig's roots frame the shot.

Panel 4:Extreme close-up on Sika's face in three-quarter profile. Her eyes move slowly across the interior of the ruin, stopping at things the children cannot see. The lines of her face are deep. Her expression holds something between grief and recognition.

Panel 5:Medium shot of Sika facing the ruin, head slightly bowed, one hand still on the wall. The three children stand close behind her, completely still. Even Gbodja does not move.

“Sika: This, children, is where we slept.”

Panel 1:Full splash panel. The image splits diagonally: the upper half shows the ruined compound in 1955, crumbling walls and strangler fig roots, Sika and the three children small in the broken doorway. The lower half dissolves into the same building in 1889, walls intact and straight, the roof overhead, sleeping mats rolled against the walls, oil lamps burning low. The two images bleed into each other at the diagonal line. Text caption anchors the flashback.

Narrator:“Abomey. 1889.”

Panel 1:Wide establishing shot of the Agojie compound in 1889. High earthen walls, intact and solid. Armed sentries stand at the gate, muskets held across their chests. The courtyard is wide and packed dirt, lit by early morning grey light. New recruits stand in a loose cluster, wearing simple cotton tunics. Among them, young Sika stands tallest, long-legged and lean, her face carrying uncertainty. Beside her, Kemi stands ready, wrapper secured, hair tied back, compact and alert. Afi stands with arms crossed, jaw set, shorter but powerfully built.

Narrator:“The walls offered no comfort. The gate closed behind every new recruit the same way.”

Panel 2:Medium shot of Dòkpè standing near the gate in faded training clothes. She is lean and hard-muscled, arms at her sides. The deep scar from her left ear to her jaw pulls one side of her mouth into a grim, permanent suggestion of a smile. She surveys the new recruits with an expression of complete calm.

Panel 3:Close-up on young Sika's face. She is tall and lean, dark skin, tightly coiled black hair. Her eyes are direct but uncertain, scanning the compound walls, the armed women, the hard packed earth. She stands straight despite the uncertainty in her expression.

Panel 4:Medium shot of Dòkpè walking slowly along the front rank of recruits, hands behind her back, inspecting each woman in turn. She stops in front of one recruit whose sandal strap is loose and points at it without speaking. The recruit immediately kneels to fix it.

“Dòkpè: You are not guests here. You are nothing yet. Formation. Now.”

Panel 5:Wide shot of the recruits snapping into formation in the courtyard. Sika, Kemi, and Afi stand in the front row. Kemi's posture is perfect. Sika is a half-beat behind, adjusting. Afi's jaw is set, arms rigid at her sides, her expression barely concealing defiance. Dòkpè stands before them all, back straight.

Panel 1:Wide shot of the compound courtyard in full morning light. Recruits climb a steep earthen embankment on one side of the yard, hands scrabbling at the dirt. Others crawl under a low wooden frame strung with rope. In the center, pairs of recruits spar with wooden training blades. Dòkpè walks among them, watching. Sika climbs the embankment, fingers digging into the soil, legs driving hard.

Narrator:“They trained beneath the sun and in the rain. They trained when they were tired, hungry, or sick.”

Panel 2:Medium shot of Afi in a sparring match, training blade raised, facing another recruit. She attacks forward with full force, teeth set, eyes fierce. Her powerful thighs and shoulders drive the blow. Her opponent braces hard to absorb it.

Panel 3:Medium shot of Kemi handling a flintlock musket, checking the mechanism with quick, practiced hands. She does not fumble. Her movements are compact and efficient. Dòkpè stands to one side, watching her, arms folded.

“Dòkpè: Again. Faster.”

Panel 4:Medium-close shot of Sika at the top of the earthen embankment, hauling herself over the edge. Her arms shake. Sweat runs down her face. She gets one knee over the rim and pushes herself upright, breathing hard, jaw clenched.

Panel 5:Wide shot of all three — Sika, Kemi, and Afi — at different stations of the training yard. None of them have stopped. Their clothes are dark with sweat. Their faces show exhaustion but their feet keep moving. Dòkpè is visible in the background, watching all three at once.

“Dòkpè: You stop when I say you stop.”

Panel 1:Wide shot of the compound courtyard in pre-dawn darkness. The eastern sky is barely grey at the horizon. The compound walls are dark silhouettes. Recruits stand in formation, breath visible in the cool air. Dòkpè stands at the gate, hands on her hips, weight on one leg. She watches the assembled women without expression.

Narrator:“Before first light, Dòkpè led them out.”

Panel 2:Medium shot of Sika, Kemi, and Afi side by side in the formation. Kemi's wrapper is secured, expression controlled. Sika ties the cloth around her rolled mat, glancing toward the gate. Afi is still stretching her neck, jaw set.

“Kemi: You tied that badly. It will fall apart before the gate. Sika: It will hold.”

Panel 3:Medium shot of Dòkpè at the gate, one arm raised. The gate stands open behind her, revealing the dark road beyond. The grey sky is lightening at the horizon behind the tree line.

“Dòkpè: Ready. Move.”

Panel 4:Wide shot of the recruits streaming out of the compound gate onto the dark road. Dòkpè runs at the front, back straight, pace controlled. The line of women follows, their feet raising soft dust. Jungle trees loom dark on either side of the road. The sky is barely lighter than the trees.

Panel 1:Interior of the family compound at evening. Nana Sika sits in her wicker chair, the oil lamp on the upturned crate burning beside her. Houéfa, Dossi, and Gbodja sit close around her, faces tipped up toward her in the warm amber light. Sika's hands rest on her knees, her left wrist with its pale scar visible. Her expression is grave, eyes distant.

Narrator:“Abomey, 1955.”

Panel 2:Close-up on Gbodja's face, eyes wide and alert, chin resting on his fists. He leans forward on his crossed knees, mouth slightly open, hanging on Sika's next word.

“Gbodja: Three beats — was that the training drum?”

Panel 3:Medium shot of Nana Sika facing the children. Her right hand has closed around her left wrist over the pale scar. Her jaw is set. Her dark eyes are steady and direct, looking at Gbodja.

“Sika: No. That was not a training rhythm.”

Panel 4:Wide panel split by a ghostly diagonal line. On the left, the 1955 compound interior — Sika and the three children in lamplight, the earthen walls dark. On the right, bleeding through like a memory, the 1889 compound in morning light — the intact walls, the packed dirt courtyard, recruits frozen mid-step, Dòkpè stopped cold in the middle of the yard, one hand raised.

Narrator:“Sixty years ago. The same walls. A different silence.”

Panel 5:Close-up on Houéfa's face in the lamplight. Her grave, watchful eyes are fixed on her grandmother. Her lips are pressed together. She has understood something the younger children have not.

“Houéfa: What did three beats mean, Nana?”

Panel 1:Two-page spread. The full 1889 Agojie compound courtyard in harsh morning light. The gate stands wide open in the far background. Dòkpè and two senior commanders — one of them Nawi, stocky in an indigo tunic decorated with cowrie shells, a broad scar from her temple to her nose — stride quickly toward and through the open gate, their backs to the viewer, disappearing into the bright road beyond. In the foreground, the exhausted recruits stand frozen in the courtyard dust, bowls still in their hands or abandoned at their feet. Center-frame, filling the lower foreground, Sika stands between Kemi and Afi. All three face the gate. Sika is tall, jaw lifted, eyes fixed on the gate. Kemi stands compact and still, one hand gripping the strap of her musket across her chest. Afi's right fist is closed at her side, her chin thrust forward, eyes hard. Above the gate, the pale morning sky stretches wide and open. A single drumbeat ripple-line graphic cuts across the top of the image like a visible shockwave moving through the air. No dialogue. Only the drum.

Narrator:“Three beats. Not training. Not ceremony. War had come to Dahomey.”