KWASHI
He was a runaway Ghanaian slave.
I know that he was.
His name was changed to Quash Henry because nobody knew how it was really supposed to be spelled.
He took the surname of some white people in Georgia who befriended him. But he came to Texas to make his home.
He lived with one woman until he died; had a bunch (!) of children. But there don't seem to be many offspring now.
The children squandered their inheritance and scattered to the four winds.
But I am here.
And I remember you: the great-grandfather that I never met.
I see you in my skin, my hair, my eyes, my sinuses! I feel you in my mannerisms, my tastes, my very blood.
I know you
and I love you,
KWASHI
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