She was the lady that was full of life. The poor gathered around her; they left for their homes shinning their teeth, oil in their mouth and shriveled poly bags in their hand.
She was everyone’s favorite, everyone but good health. Aunt Bisi never stopped ranting about a place with better opportunities for doing good, even with the cancer in her body.
‘If you are reading this it means I’ve gone to a place of new opportunities. Somewhere I can keep doing good.’ Those were the last words of her. Close to it was a small bottle of cyanide.