Daddy did not wake up.
His family members are at the gate with callused hands and hungry eyes calling mother a witch. Wizened men shake hands as they strut about our compound carting off “their brother’s property.” Uncle Joe, the literal black sheep of the family is sprawled out drunk on daddy’s favourite couch. Little Nnamdi cries out for mother’s bosom as strange women assault her head and dress her in black. Ekaette has gone as we can no longer afford her.
I’m out here on the streets in tatters chasing after cars all because daddy didn’t wake up.