Tag: Daura

08Jun

A Thousand and One Incisions

I would get woken up and, looking at the staircase, would see my father with his left hand resting on the rail, his right hand holding his chin with his eyes looking at me from the distance. His look was intense as if saying “come child”. A few times I had woken up those sleeping next to me, pointing at the staircase and shouting “Daddy is here”, but like those with Paul on the road to Damascus, they saw nothing and cautioned me to stop disrupting their sleep.
5 mins read
08May

Not Pretty but good enough

At break time, a pupil went around ringing the brass bell, something that we really looked forward to with excitement. Our excitement was not for the bell but what comes after it, the arrival of the ‘Iya Olounje’. Smartly dressed in deep blue gowns, they come into the different classrooms and set down their food trays right next to the blackboard. As she opens the food, the scintillating aroma fills the classroom and not a few of us would start salivating. Our food containers which we had deposited at the start of the day would be taken by the woman and filled with whatever food was for the day
7 mins read
27May

The RED LADA

Red was probably the first colour I fell in love with, because of my father's Lada. And, it held some good fortune for us, shielding us from death at least on two occasions. When the car got repainted white, that was a totally different story. One that makes me ask "What if the Red Colour had nbeen retained?"
5 mins read