Mazi Nze raised his children the only way he knew how. Everyone knew children were born with the demons from their previous lives. Without the stick to drive them out, how would those spirits bow to authority?
On his sixtieth birthday, Mazi Nze woke up content that he had done his job as a father. Ufoma was a doctor at Abuja, and her husband, also a doctor, was from a good influential home. Ekeoma was a little distracted with that bank job of hers, but she would soon travel to the United Kingdom for her Masters in law, and get back on course. Shell Petroleum had been taking Akachi around the world, plus his fiancée was not from a bad family either.
And so Mazi Nze would wake up smiling. He knew his phone would ring any moment now. It was only 6.30am, but no matter. Ekeoma would call him first. They never sleep in that their Lagos, after all. Or maybe Akachi would beat her to it. He was sure to miscalculate the time difference between Nigeria and Darfur. Ufoma. Humph, that one. She wouldn’t sneeze unless Somachi permitted it. Why he allowed those children maintain communication with that hopeless woman, Mazi Nze didn’t know. Oh well, he shrugged and rose from his bed. A bad marriage ruins a man, but he had survived it.
But by 9pm, Mazi Nze had ceased smiling for over ten hours. His phone never rang.
Finally, Somachi had shown him who owned the children.