I asked, “Mother, I see you reading and praying all the time. Will that save us from the epidemic?”
Now she’s sobbing. “Despite going through throes of childbirth, I can’t believe Olatunde my first son died when he clocked 10 years, Olufunsho who I gave birth to when Tunde was five also died when she was about clocking 8 years and the worst of it all, Bimpe, who I named after myself died some weeks after birth. Why is all of these happening to me? Have I wronged anyone, haven’t I been faithful to you Lord or could I have been cursed during our wedding anniversary?”
I imagined how steep the cave of sadness and emptiness had become for the family of that man. This life is really a madness. 4.30 pm. Would never remain the same. Again. Life gives me a hundred and I intend to be grateful for every piece of it.
Here’s to the beautiful drift,
Here’s to the tune of addiction’s deceit.
Here’s to the backseats of the church,
the treasures in the dust,
the sorrows on repeat.
Rambo clenched his fist and drove it into the jaw of the sleepy man nearest to Tiger. He was Tiger’s speech that didn’t need a voice. Rambo, a smallish man with hard hands. He used to be an accountant, a family man. The calm in the storm.