Echoes of History: Navigating Harvard

Chapter 14

Echoes of History: Navigating Harvard

Bayo sensed a flicker of reluctance in Amina's gaze, a hesitation underscored by Farid's presence beside her. He knew their progress hung in a delicate balance, a precarious dance against the ticking clock.

"Oh..." He faltered momentarily, then pressed on, his tone weighted with cautious permission. "I suppose he can join us," he conceded, eyes flicking briefly towards Farid. "But only if he agrees to stay out of my path." The urgency to uncover the information he sought gnawed at him, an insistent pulse in his veins that he hadn't anticipated.

Farid's narrowed gaze betrayed his internal debate. 'This guy,' he thought, eyes darting subtly towards Amina before returning to Bayo. 'Doesn't he realize where he stands?' Farid found himself reassessing his initial impression of Bayo. The unexpected offer of help left him grappling with his assumptions.

Amina's hesitation lingered, a silent tug-of-war between her thoughts and the hallway before them. After a beat of contemplation, she relented with a weary sigh, nodding her reluctant agreement.

As Amina passed, Farid stepped aside, a deliberate gesture to keep Bayo at arm's length. His swift movement left no room for Bayo to encroach upon their space.

Amina couldn't suppress a secret smile, finding a hint of amusement in the tension that threaded through their interactions.

Meanwhile, Bayo's lips curved into a wry smile, indicating a silent acknowledgment of the dynamics at play. 'People like this lose the girl before they even realize it,' he mused, a wry observation that hung heavy in the air.

As they walked on, Bayo was startled by the sudden shift in language as Amina spoke in Yoruba. "Bayo, I apologize for his behavior," she began, her words carrying a weight of explanation. "You know," she hesitated, "he isn't entirely unjustified in his concerns."

Bayo's laughter bubbled up unbidden at the unexpected switch in language, a release of tension he couldn't suppress. Though he didn't understand Farid's words, the message was in his actions, spoken in the language of silence.

Amina's uncertainty mirrored in her sideways glance, fingers tightening as she sought clarity. "Did I say something wrong?" she asked, voice tinged with uncertainty.

Bayo offered a strained smile, a deflection born of discomfort. "It's better to stick to English next time," he replied with a sigh, a subtle attempt to steer the conversation away from the tangled web of emotions swirling between them.

Amina's narrowed eyes betrayed her confusion at Bayo's apparent detachment, a suspicion lingering in the depths of her mind. She turned towards Farid, seeking solace in his familiar presence, but found him composed, offering no insight into his thoughts.

As they traversed the Harvard route, Bayo couldn't help but be captivated by the blend of Georgian and colonial-style architecture that adorned the campus. Each building exuded a sense of history and intellectual pursuit, echoing the remnants of a world emerging from the shadows of war. Amidst this backdrop, students moved with cautious optimism, their behavior reflecting the resilience of a generation rebuilding itself.

Venturing further, Bayo stumbled upon an open field alive with artistic expression. Students diligently sketched and sculpted, their creations a testament to creativity and skill. Yet, a group of dancers caught Bayo's attention, their movements fluid and mesmerizing. Turning to Amina, he couldn't contain his curiosity. "What are they doing?" he inquired, his eyes wide with wonder.

Amina's smile widened as she explained the spectacle before them. "They're performing an interpretive dance," she replied, her voice tinged with familiarity. It was a sight she had grown accustomed to on her frequent journeys along this road.

As Bayo, Amina, and Farid continued through the Harvard campus, Bayo's gaze lingered on a group of students gathered around an unfamiliar device. Bayo's brow furrowed as he examined the peculiar setup nearby. "What's that?" he asked, gesturing toward the students gathered around the unfamiliar device.

Amina followed his gaze, her expression thoughtful. "Hmm, that's a camera," she explained, her tone casual. "It's a device for capturing images, like paintings, but with light."

Bayo's confusion lingered, his eyes scanning the device with intrigue. "A camera?" he echoed, the word unfamiliar on his tongue. The concept seemed foreign to him, a relic of a distant future he couldn't fathom.

Amina nodded, her tone indicating her limited familiarity. "Yes, it's a relatively new invention. People use it to preserve memories or document crucial events.

Bayo's gaze lingered on the unfamiliar device, his mind grappling with the concept before him. In a world where oral traditions reigned supreme, the notion of capturing moments with light and machinery felt like a distant fantasy. He shook his head slightly, unable to fully grasp the technology before him.

Farid's silent amusement manifested in a snort, amusement tinged with a hint of exasperation at Bayo's dramatic reaction. Despite his internal frustration, he remained determined to support Amina without further disruption. Clenching his fists, he pondered how best to redeem himself in her eyes, silently vowing to make amends.

Bayo brushed off Farid's reaction, but Amina's fleeting glance didn't comfort him. He opened his mouth to speak, but Amina had already averted her gaze, leaving his words hanging in the air, unspoken. Choosing to mask his emotions, Farid swallowed his displeasure, opting for silence over confrontation.

Amina's voice, soft and smooth, broke the silence. "You see," she began, her words slowly rolling off, "the technology is not yet advanced. Only highly wealthy and influential families can afford a camera like that."

As Bayo's gaze wandered over the bustling scene again, a peculiar setup nearby drew his attention — a tripod and a medium-sized box nestled within a portable dark brown case. His curiosity piqued, he couldn't help but wonder about the purpose of the equipment. 'That seems intriguing,' he thought, silently contemplating the unfamiliar contraption. Despite his lack of familiarity with such devices, he couldn't shake the feeling that there was something significant about the scene before him.

Amidst the activity, Amina's melodic voice broke through the ambient noise, drawing his attention to a particular figure. "Look at that girl," she said, her words carrying a subtle emphasis that Bayo couldn't ignore.

Following Amina's glance, Bayo's eyes landed on the group engaged in the photography activity. He couldn't shake the feeling that there was something significant about the girl Amina had singled out. "Who is that?" he inquired, sensing Amina's deliberate emphasis on the girl's presence.

Amina's response was barely audible, her voice tinged with a hint of apprehension. "She's Beverly Vanderbilt," she murmured, her gaze briefly flitting away from the scene.

Upon hearing the name, Bayo's demeanor remained unchanged, but Amina's incredulous expression didn't escape his notice. He could sense her disbelief at his apparent ignorance regarding the influential figure.

Farid, observing in silence, interjected with characteristic bluntness before Amina could voice her astonishment. "She comes from a powerful family," he remarked, his tone laced with sarcasm as he shot a pointed glance at Bayo. "It's amazing you've managed to navigate America without knowing your right or left."

Amina's response was a measured silence, her frustration with Farid's brashness simmering beneath the surface. She inwardly questioned whether he would ever learn to temper his remarks, knowing his intentions were well-meaning but often lacking in tact.

Unfazed by Farid's comment, Bayo briefly scanned the scene once more. But something unexpected drew his attention to another figure, a seemingly unremarkable girl trailing behind Beverly Vanderbilt. Something about her movements caught Bayo's eye, a subtle curiosity stirring within him. Unbeknownst to Bayo, this seemingly innocuous encounter would soon lead him down a path fraught with danger.

Most striking to Bayo was the absence of black students in the vicinity. Even African students from various countries were few and far between, seemingly retreating from public view. He sighed, internalizing his observations as they pressed forward, their conversation muted in the wake of Farid's interruption.

Upon reaching their destination, Amina's gaze swept over the imposing structure before them, a nostalgic smile accentuated on her lips. "Welcome to the heart of Harvard's knowledge," she said, her voice tinged with reverence. "This is where scholars and seekers alike come to explore worlds beyond our own."

Bayo nodded, taking in the bustling activity surrounding the Georgian revival-style library building. People flowed in and out, their movements harmonious against the backdrop of the serene atmosphere. Across from the library stood a memorial church, its solemn presence adding to the tranquil ambiance.

Amidst the scene, Amina's voice cut through the air. "This library has preserved collections spanning various aspects of life," she remarked with a pause, her words weighted with possibility. "We may find the answers you seek."

Bayo nodded again, but a furrow creased his brow as thoughts of his homeland crept into his mind. He couldn't help but contrast the grandeur of the American library with the oral traditions that still held sway in Yoruba land. Uncertainty flickered in his eyes, but he summoned his courage to ask, "Do you know the history of this library?"

Farid observed Bayo's momentary pause with a barely concealed hint of impatience flickering across his features. "Shall we proceed?" he suggested, his tone tinged with a subtle urgency that betrayed his annoyance.

After they approached the grand entrance of Widener Library, Amina's gaze lingered on the ornate facade. "You know," she began, her voice carrying a touch of reverence, "this library has a rich history that spans back to the nineteenth century."

Bayo raised an eyebrow, intrigued by her statement. "Really? What's the story behind it?"