Small Worlds
Caleb Azumah Nelson
Since the one thing that can solve most of our problems is dancing, it only makes sense that here, following the shimmer of Black hands, raised in praise, the pastor invited us, the congregation, to pray, and we allowed that prayer to make space, allowed ourselves to explore the depths and heights of our beings, allowed ourselves to say things which were honest and true, Godlike even. Allowed ourselves to speak to someone who is both us and the people we want to be, allowed ourselves to speak quietly, which is a call to give up the need to be sure, and ask, when was the last time we surrendered? When was the last time we were this open? And before we could try to answer, the drums start off, sudden and sure. A thick bassline follows, getting to the heart of things. The pianist plays secret chords from the soul. And before the intro is done, the choir magic themselves to the stage, and there’s a microphone in hand, and a grin as the leader steps down, singing her prayer: I’m trading my sorrows, I’m trading my shame. She sings these words, knowing that if we’re in this room, then we’ve probably known sorrow, probably known shame. We know death in its multitudes, but we’re all very serious about being alive. And since the one thing that can solve most of our problems is dancing, we turn our mourning into movement. We breach the borders of our rows, spilling into the aisles, making our way to the area in front of the stage, making our way into that space.
I see my father, up ahead, amongst the congregation, his body free and flailing and loose. He’s waving a handkerchief in his hand, like a beacon, as if to say, I am here. He’s going and going and then we watch as Pops slows down a little, like he’s misplaced a part of himself. A quick search for my mother. He finds her with ease, and signals. She waves him off, but he won’t have it, making his way back to where we are standing, coaxing her out of the row, their soft hands in a tender embrace, pulling her close, lips to her ear, you’re safe here; not just in this building, or this church, but in his arms. I gaze at my parents, and see that a world can be two people, occupying a space where they don’t have to explain. Where they can feel beautiful. Where they might feel free.
I nudge Raymond. It’s a joyous, brotherly laugh we share. I know, that like me, his faith is a daily wrangle, that he’s had to build a church elsewhere in order to know himself. We share the same small motion, a little two-step on the spot, because despite everything, the music is undeniable. I’ve only ever known myself in song, between notes, in that place where language won’t suffice but the drums might, might speak for us, might speak for what is on our hearts. In this moment, as the music gathers pace, looping round once more, passing frenzy, approaching ecstasy, that prayer taking flight, I’m trading my sorrows, I’m trading my shame, I’m pulled to nudge Raymond again, to try to say to him, I wish we could always be this open, wish we might always feel some of this freedom. I don’t know I have the words. But since the one thing that can solve most of our problems is dancing, it only makes sense that here, when our parents signal for us, we join them.
Excerpt from “Small Worlds” copyright © 2023 by Caleb Azumah Nelson. Published by Viking Books.
About the book: Dancing is the one thing that can solve Stephen's problems. At Church with his family, the shimmer of Black hands raised in praise. With his band, making music speaking not just to their hardships, but their joys. Grooving with his best friend, so close their heads might touch. Dancing alone to his father's records, uncovering parts of a man he has never truly known. Stephen has only ever known himself in song. But what becomes of him when the music fades?
Set over the course of three summers, from South London to Ghana and back again, SMALL WORLDS is a novel about the worlds we build for ourselves. The worlds we live, dance and love within.
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Caleb Azumah Nelson is a twenty-nine-year old British-Ghanaian writer and photographer living in South East London. His first novel, OPEN WATER, won the Costa First Novel Award and Debut of the Year at the British Book Awards, and was a number-one Times bestseller. It also won the Bad Form Book of the Year Award, a Betty Trask Award and a Somerset Maugham Award, and was shortlisted for the Dylan Thomas Prize, the Sunday Times Young Writer of the Year Award, Waterstones Book of the Year, and longlisted for the Gordon Burn Prize and the Desmond Elliott Prize. He was selected as a National Book Foundation '5 under 35' honoree by Brit Bennett.
You can read our interview with Caleb Azumah Nelson here
