Samuel Oladimeji Kuye (Eric WordSmith). Theme images by kelvinjay. Powered by Blogger.










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BOND I love my parents I really do. But I don’t know what story to tell my loving parents or my five years old siblings. The truth has become the tongue. It cannot be spewed. If they’re still alive, I pray they are; I can only give them the saliva. I left home two years ago. Thank God I had a place to stay. I wondered who could allow a person stayed under her roof without tracing a link. But my lover’s grandmother’s very caring. She’d not let me suffer hunger’s anger. I can remember when she took me to Gedegbe Secondary School and lied that I’m her beloved child. I knew that she knew that I knew that my new home heaves hopes. Dream of becoming a lawyer would come true now that my hope was revived. At home, my parents, poor farmers that they are, wanted me to help them on the farm. I told them I had to get a job and get money to go to school. But they wouldn’t let me be. Their excuse was their fate. My mother became blind at the time my father’s legs had to be amputated because he stepped on some charm on his farm- the farm he wanted me to manage. Even though I made them see my life on fire if I went to that barred farmland they still cast all hopes on me. Oh Life! Life… life made them barren for thirteen years after my birth. So, when all these happened, the twins were just three years old. No one could help me but God and I didn’t know God. Could I really take care of my parent and twins with hoes and cutlasses? I let weak emotion cut my heart because I didn’t want it to cut my head. My lover’s the only one who showed me a path to follow. And I followed it. It led to his grandmother’s house. It’s a Storey building different from two-room mud house that my father’s father built long ago. The woman is rich and caring. She loves her grandchild such that she would not complain if she caught us drilling some walls through some fun combat. She would smile and say, “Wonderful children of new ages; just play safe. I don’t want excuses.” But one morning she fell and became paralysed. My lover then planed to enroll for part-time schooling. And I must drop my dream dead and buried in their bed because someone couldn’t leave his grandmother to suffer. “I trust you”, was all the trick, “but I just cannot be far from her, not now. You know I love her so much that I may even sacrifice a year to make plans …” I couldn’t believe that fool could tell me that I, who abandoned my family cannot know what bond means. Oh, I didn’t know what bond means. If I shared a bond, I’d not break a bottle on a lover’s head. I did. But I still stayed with them for few months. I wanted to leave but I needed my body to go on strike that I may actualize my freedom. For fear or, fun I just couldn’t leave until yesterday when my darling came home and said, “I met God. He saved me. I had encounter with God and so, I …” It’s all rubbish repentance, restitution or restoration, reconciliation… oh God. I hope home is hope and hopeful ……………………………………… To be continued. Do not copy without reference. Can you guess the sex of the narrator or the twins?.

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