When our driver excused himself to the side of the road, skipped the ‘pocket-dip-fist-squeeze’ ritual, and parked beside the curb, smiling at the monkey-faced policeman, it explained why he’d been driving like a six-year-old; clinging on to the steering like a virgin to his new bride. It was definitely his first time on the road.
She turned back to me, a mischievous smile dancing on her marshmallow face. “How is her royal majesty to be consulted?’’ she laughed at how ridiculous I knew my confused face looked. “Olodo. What do you need?” she said, emptying an entire litre of emphatic stress on the ‘Need’.
In my country, you run even when no man pursueth, and more so when mafia looking characters charge into your compound.
You pinch your left hand and feel the unpleasantness. No human would go through all that trouble to ruin you; just for sex with one woman.
My fondest memory of me wanting to end it was the eve of Dad’s passing away. He went to bed and did not come downstairs for morning devotion. When Mom went up the room to scream at him, it was different. Everything stayed different afterwards.