“Your father is dead, Kega” she said; just like another gossip two people shared.
Somehow she spoke with such calmness; I was stilled to my toes. A bulb of tear rolled down my skin, but that was it. None of those wailing, or screams that the dead deserve.
“I understand if you need a moment to grieve, but you must do so before the second crow when your sisters arise. You are the man of this house now, and you must show strength”
Then she was gone – just as quietly as she came. To the hut her husband’s corpse lay.