A long, awkward pause followed a
symptom of disapproval from my
mother and the rest of my siblings.
We all knew that my father was the
kind of man who’d never take any
objections or second opinions from
my mother and because of that,
we’d grown to adhere to that kind
of system. My mother, knowing very
well that her counsels fell on thorny
ground, emerged to her feet and left
the room.
Since then, silence made the loudest
noise at home- a clear indication
that we were not happy with my
father’s decision but, couldn’t say
anything.
He went back to the market the
following day, clad with joy and
gratitude on his face. He came back
happier than yesterday, escorted
by a young fellow we’d never seen
before and had a bottle of palm
wine on the arm-length bag he
always carried. They sat down and
drank their palm wine, bursting
into massive laughter in between
the murmuring sessions they’d
exchange.
As the sun began to snuggle in
between the clouds, my mother
walked up to the two men who’d
been sitting outside and the young
fellow quickly rose to his feet and
left. “ Olamide, I shall not die in
silence. For so long I have kept quiet
about this, but I refuse to allow you
to give away our money just like
that!” Exclaimed my mother.
“Our? Did you just say our? This
money is not ours woman; it’s mine.
I do everything I want to do with it.
It’s mine and mine alone.
| BANZA