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Nestled somewhere within the thin, dark line that separates Nigeria from Cameroon on the map of Africa, is the little border town of Kadamu. It is a place that holds no hidden histories and reveals nothing about itself; a community that seems content to be isolated from the world. I'd heard about Kadamu from an aunt who had traveled there to seek treatment from a local bone setter for a bad injury on her leg. I was immediately intrigued by the idea of this unknown settlement with inhabitants who had made the deliberate decision to live in a kind of alternate universe on earth, void of things like electricity or internet. At that time, I'd also been dealing with the loss of a close friend, and I needed a place where I could be free to mourn and reflect without glancing at my phone. Kadamu seemed like the perfect place for a retreat. A week after I heard about the town, I made my way down there, to discover what lay waiting for me behind the tall mountains. Kadamu is mostly inaccessible by road, and the only way I could get there was via a canoe ride across the river. As my travel companion sliced through the water with his paddle, the wooden boat bobbed slightly in the water, and that was the only movement that could be seen for miles around. I reached into the clear river, making small ripples with my hand. It all felt a lot like peace. The people of Kadamu tend to look on strangers with some skepticism at first, as though they're unsure about whether or not they are protecting the sanctity of their land by letting you in. By the second week of my stay, I was glad that they let me share in their easy lives and their laughter. It felt good to be a part of them, even if it was just for a short time. Meeting Kamal, the local bone setter, was perhaps the most eventful part of my journey to Kadamu. He was a quiet, frail man who healed broken bones and aching joints with special balms and ointments spread around his palms. His home was filled with people writhing in varying degrees of pain, and they all left with broad smiles on their faces. The secret behind his skill was simple and quite impossible to be true: He told me he was visited by an angel on a windy night, many years ago. The angel, according to Kamal, blessed him with the gift of healing, and he desired only to help his community with this gift. I belived his story, because this town, in its entirety, had an almost magical feel to it. There was an earnest quality about Kamal that urged me to speak about the grief I felt over the loss of my friend, just within an hour of meeting him. He held my hand as I spoke through tears, guiding me to a place in my mind that was bright and weightless. I had never felt as free as I did on that day. Many years have passed since my visit to Kadamu, and I have been through other periods of grief since then, but each time I think about the still river leading to the town, the mountains appearing out of the fog like they had not always been there, and the bone setter with the strange little stories, I know that in the end, I'll be alright.