Stepping out of the house I noticed our 'udala' ( an African fruit anglicised as star apple) tree had withered. We had hopes of taking its babies to our renoun Wednesday evening market to a least plead to travellers to buy at the cheapest rate possible since it was a commodity almost everybody could boast of having in their compound.
Three years ago, Mama had called me to the kitchen, speaking in Nigerian pidgin, she said, "you see that 'udala' there?" she asked pointing at the direction where the tree was situated. I nodded in agreement, then she continued, " them plant am the day wey you born; your placenta and everything wey concern you na there them bury am" she said gazing deeply into my eyes as if in search of confirmation to what she proposition. Although I was surprised, I couldn't expect anything more fr my people, our people. I can remember she asked that i take care of it because in some ways it is attached to my life.
But now it withers. I stop reminiscing on the matter when I remembered I never saw my sister that morning. Time won't let me inquire... Mr Akpan had done me a favour by allowing me clear his building site and I must not miss the opportunity because of time. He had said he gave me the job because my father was a very good friend to him. " we did everything together" he'll always add.
* * *
I walked out of the house a shattered man. With no hopes at all. Full of many fears and fearless of the worst...
(Curtain)
