My dearest son, I try to remember the beginning and my memory goes back to immediately after your mum and I got married. Now that I think of those turbulent early years of our marriage, I can’t fathom in fact, the contents of the glue that kept our marriage alive…barely. Our coming together was the … Continue reading To my unborn son (I and II)
Mma Tata’s dark glittering skin had seen tough days, and that morning, it was clothed by the dust which spread as cars drove through St Bonaventure’s dual-passage gate under the dry weather. Beaten by the sun through days of sitting at odd and strategic roadsides, she was sweating through her pores, even at 9 o’clock … Continue reading I’m a Mother too
At first glance I look like a kid. Most people say I look like I have just ended puberty and begun my adolescence. I smile. In a way this is right. I’d say I have just come out of puberty and I am now a teenager spiritually, but I digress. That was just a first glance … Continue reading Budding Saint
I want to hate my mum. I really do. But I can’t. She is my mum and dad said it’s not good to hate people. He said hating people is not healthy, that I should like everybody, even those boys that use to beat me. He told me all that, yet he hates mom. I … Continue reading The Angry Kid
Where is mama? Where is papa? And why are people gathered in our house? On these rubbles What is an aero plane doing here? This is not an airport? Perhaps it has come to take us to London But baba Tope is crying… Why is he crying? My heart quizzed this evening. Let me ask … Continue reading Where is Mama and Papa?
Dear son, It’s inanely ridiculous That each time I set eyes on your nakedness The first part of you that catches my eyes Is that roll of flesh between your legs Now, small, limp and harmless Just like every other part of you And as I know it now, your best play-thing Each time it … Continue reading Dear Son
In the beginning
Father woos mother
Mother loves father
A union is born…
When I woke up this morning he was gone I did not have to turn my face from the wall I could tell by mere instinct that I was alone I pulled the covers up as I curled into a ball Bit my lips to stop a tear and stifle a moan I clung tightly … Continue reading The Child Bride
“Mummy, why can’t you hear me?”
Little Alex lay on the hospital bed, a sorry sight, with his skin clinging to his bones and a deathly pale look on his face. The discolouration of his skin gave him a ghost-like appearance and he was barely conscious of his environment as he lay there struggling for dear life.