The price of respect

ice of

: Atec

Honor is no

orns of motorcycle taxis, the cries of donter sellers, the laughter of children in barefoot in the

he old man a

Gbékoun smiling, his wrinkled hands sculpting wood, telling proverbs from anoth

ht the papers. Others whispered that one day he would fall. But no one dared t

3: Sil

looks followed everywhere, the words became heavy. We no longer greeted him i

nger rumbled. Not destructive anger. Just anger. The

The voice

van," said his mother, wiping

times crying, discreetly. Because she knew t

mom. I just want us to look

fear, she read in her ey

cha, the fait

not having abandoned her. When Yvan doubted, she spoke to h

because you are violent. Becau

ng, without asking too many questi

a district

sted for denouncing illegal constructions. Another had my

a spark in some. A desire to speak. To act

: The fir

slipped under his door:

. He remained calm. Fear wanted t

int. But at the police s

s a joke.

at justice did not al

The schoo

. Some called him "the rebel". Ot

ted to become an engineer, build so

notebook what he learned - not

9: The f

ace of surveillance. The saleswomen wer

ng. He knew ears were dragging. But he also listen

0: Uncle

, had raised him like a son

ere. You can't ch

e it, he's the one

k. Without a word. But that day, he offered her his best tool

: Laughter

shment bar. He saw him sitting, surrounded by his foll

are, but the lion walks,

t Dossou sought to provoke it, to push him to react with rage. But he chooses the

Respect fo

Yvan found a notebook of his father. Thou

required. This is what

erstood that his s