Homecoming

I was sitting beside the window feeding on every view I could set eyes on as the bus raced through the express road. The bus passed a signboard stating that Ajibade village is 30km ahead, something thud in my heart as I remembered the day I left.
Papa had started drinking few weeks after mom died. He became increasingly furious and would beat crap out of us at the slightest provocation. Abeni my elder sister assured me that everything would be alright and that dad was probably like that because of his pain. I never truly understood but all the same I waited for him to change back into the loving and caring father he was when mom was alive. It was on a Sunday, Papa had gone out shortly after we came back from church leaving us at the mercy of our hungry stomachs. We went to mama Segun; a
friend of mom who had always been responsible for our feeding, anytime Papa refuse to oblige. The benevolent woman gave us the little she could spare and we went back home after barely satisfying our stomach.
Few minutes after we got home, it started raining sending us to bed early. I woke up to this incessant banging on the door. Knowing it's Papa, I went to get the door. The knock that landed on my head the moment the door creaked open made me understand what huge mistake I had made coming to open the door instead of waking my sister. He came in and charged at me like a bull, yelling about how long he had been knocking. My thirteen years old body became a punching bag, receiving all sorts of beating. My sister who was woken up by my wailing, came out to witness what was happening and also shared my fate. Propelled by the demons inside the bottle of beer he took, he tied us down, brought out his coboko and started whipping hell out of us. After he had satisfied his demons, he went to bed leaving us writhing in pain.
After minutes of trying we eventually untied ourselves and tended to our injuries. I cursed in pain as Abeni applied Shea butter to the bleeding wound on my head. I urged her to let us ran away but she told me that if we leave, there would be no one to take care of Papa. She also told me to be patient, that everything would be alright but I didn't believe her. Even though I had no idea where to go, I had made up my mind to be gone with the
wind before the cock crow. When I realized she was fast asleep, I tiptoed to the kitchen where I had seen Papa stashed huge wad of cash inside the abandon pitcher. With the money in my pocket, I went back to the room, changed into my Sunday outfit before leaping out of the
window. The moment I got out, I ran as fast as my feet could carry me out of the village.
I was so lost in thought that I didn't notice when the bus pulled over until the man beside me nudge me to make way for him. Even though the sun was at it's peak, I felt a wave of cold hit me the very moment I stepped out of the bus.
"What would I say when I set eyes on Papa again? How would he feel seeing his son after all these years? I had felt terrible after having a dream where he was telling
me how sorry he was." I was jolted out of my trance by the bike man who approached me, reaching for my bag, promising to take me where ever I want. As the bike sped on, I could barely recognize the places we passed, my village had gone through the phases of transformation. Of course nothing stays the same after over a decade.
The bike stopped opposite a well plastered bungalow. I was arguing with the bike man that he had brought me to
the wrong house until I noticed the stool Papa used to sit on anytime he feels to enjoy fresh air. After paying the bike man, I went to knock on the door but got no reply. "My father must have gone out drinking as usual but my sister, where could she be?" I asked myself. My heart
almost fell out when a young boy pointed to his burial ground when I asked of Papa. He told me my father had died two weeks ago after a severe illness. I asked of my
sister and he volunteered to take me to her new abode.
Abeni was plaiting a little girl's hair when, my presence
was announced. She lifted up her head and behold, she was still as beautiful as I left her. She perceived a faint of recognition but couldn't place the twenty-five years old face staring at her until I touched the scar on my face.
"Oladimeji." She called and I responded with a nod.
Throwing herself at me, I gave her a hearty hug.
She told me how remorseful Papa had became after I absconded. According to her, Papa searched the whole village looking for me. He became a changed man and wished everyday that I would walk through the door. She had married a cocoa farmer and had produce three kids,
one of which Papa named after me. On his sick bed, she told me Papa called out my name begging for my forgiveness.
For years I had been angry with him but when I have come to reconcile with him and get his blessing, he has gone to be with the angels.