I looked on in the shadows of a ghost, the dead body tossed here and there. It was stabbed repeatedly on the chests with half truths, lies and truthful denials. Then the body was raped, each thrust was a story. A story carved in golden superstition. They said the body was a twin of the departed patriarch.
Patriarchs are worshipped in Africa especially when they have emitted a wave of children filled with strong ties. Sadly the tortured body was a child whose head was a bank of promises holding many dreams. The child's body was a victim of culture, they painted it with fuel and added sparks of ancestral superstitions, till it was lit and burning.
Then in the backyard we heard the voice of a crying baby, beautiful in all its glory. There and then the people began, the dead child had been rebirth and the baby is attached to a name.
What's in a name? Everything! It’s a noise maker that announces your arrival. So just when the Yoruba a tribe in Nigeria call you Malomo or Kotiku then we are told by the name that the raped child is back, back with his promises ready to fulfill its dreams. Europeans call it reincarnation. Do you believe in it? What is reincarnation in your part and culture?
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