Imani knew them all. She remembered the spicy scent of heated copper, forever sewn into the folds of her late grandmother’s dress — a woman who was born on that toxic, ore-rich earth, who breathed its dust all her life, and who came to rest there beneath a heavy layer of loam. She remembered the night, smelling of burnt gasoline and fear, when the scrape of a machete against corrugated iron cut short her parents’ voices
