Tade’s eyes no doubt has been bulging with tears for days running; sometimes it comes in trickle like a baby suckling the mother’s breast for companionship. But today the tears flow freely like the rain that has defile the spell of the medicine man.
Papa’s death was like fart in ones mouth with too much salt added,for he had been full of life only to complain about slight headache in the morning. Alas! Before cock crow the following day his body had become still like an abiku child coming on his 7th journey.
As relatives wrangled about how to share papa’s meagre properties that consisted mainly old colonial furniture and the pension from the civil war days. Tade’s mind drifted in time to few months back, when he was cowed by love. No doubt the only thing that kept his sanity lately was Nkem. He remembered vividly how they met while he was manning his mother’s bread store by the road side. Their love story was by trial and error; for she was Igbo and him a thorough bred Yoruba boy.
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Tade , Tade ! He heard his name being barked on by his talkative cousin. He had wanted to ignore her;just in time she mentioned he had a visitor (who could that be he asked no one in particular). Walking lazily to the front door he avoided the prying eyes of his uncles and aunts. Finally, there he was at the front door with his eyes betraying him like the blind man’s cane;he saw Nkem standing with her tight fitted jean on a black crop top. In those brief seconds before he could say the small IBO she had taught him;which was kedu. He could feel something rising within his trouser.
Silently, they took the kitchen door from the rear of the building to his room. The first word she offered was ‘Ndo’. Like a trance their words grew smaller. While both hands and lips did the talking. Slowly, he felt himself rising to the tempo within a short while he forgot about Papa’s death nor where he was.
Gently, he tug with her skimpy top and found his way round the pound of flesh on her chest that had tempted him all this while. Slowly, he nibs them passionately with his lips,while she throwaway her slim hands to pinch his bare back. She moan softly! Please, Tade make me feel like a woman.
Hardly, were those words whispered without warning the door was flung opened by the very nosy auntie Folake. At that point, Tade felt his manhood grew limp like dead leaf falling off trees during harmattan; on that day hatred grew in his soul.
