LESSONS FROM MY FATHER

Father once told me a story, about a young boy and the boy’s father. You see, my father seemed to have this impetus to fill the void the absence of a grandmother was bound to create, especially in our knowledge of African folktales. He told many stories but this little boy’s own stood out because father didn’t tell me the morale of the story. He only told it and left me to decipher the meaning.

THIS GENIUS OF A THING (2)

                      

If you didn’t read the first part of this piece you can check the previous post. If you read it already then welcome to the beautiful entrance to heaven.

            

At the entrance to heaven, Fagunwa is stopped by Onibode for questioning.

THIS GENIUS OF A THING

My memory is travelling today of its own volition. It is going places I didn’t send it and if truth be told, places I only have a vague knowledge about. The gist is that I was lying idle today and came across the book ‘Ogboju Ode Ninu Igbo Irunmole’. Some of you have probably never heard of the book. Shame, shame, shame! It will be one of the great works of fiction you never read. So, I find myself travelling with the duo of Akara Ogun, transported into the various adventurous journeys on different quests and I got thinking. Let me confess that ever since I heard the story of that Nigerian boy who bagged a degree in Neuro Science and broke record at John Hopkin university, I have become somewhat discontented with my life. That is what happens when a person takes a step outside oneself in order to sift through the mystery that is our life.

AM I A PROSTITUTE (2)

 If you did not read the first part, check out the previous post. This is the concluding part and am sorry it took so long. It wasn't my intention to keep you in suspense (maybe a little), many things just came up. Enjoy it!

I walk back indoors, pull the zipper of my knee-length gown, remove my slippers and step onto the bed before I have the chance to change my mind. Chief flashes me a smile and tells me he actually prefers that I undress him but he is willing to let this pass. However, consequent times must be different. Now, I feel tears descending my face. Who assured him there will be a next time?

AM I A PROSTITUTE?

My stomach grumble continuously and I feel the consequent coil that starts from my lower abdomen and travels the length of my stomach. The bells in my head begin to sound and Professor Iwekaye’s head becomes enlarged in my sight. I suddenly have this mental image of a girl who slumps in class. She has no father, her mother is being treated at the hospital for typhoid, her younger sister needs money to pay her WAEC fees, this girl has not eaten in the last 3 days so she slumps in class. Of course she dies before getting to the hospital.