This is wonderful, sad as it is.
I was seven years old.
I sat in the couch watching Power Rangers. Ekene was sitted opposite me, across the sitting room, engrossed. I heard Nkoli’s screams. They were punctuated with cries of “aunty biko“. I wanted to walk into the kitchen and ask mummy to stop with the beating. Canes were not meant for human beings. I wanted to tell her that the missing N200 was not so much money to warrant such lashing. I wanted to sit with Nkoli in the comfort of her room and rub off her tears with the back of my palm, to soothe her pain, to be a man. That was what I wanted to do, but I sat still, hugging my legs close to my chest, watching power rangers.
I remember when Nkoli first came to live with us, how she came to live with us.
Early one morning…
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Mind In The Buff 