January Contest


I was twelve. Tall. Beautiful. At twelve my mother was a mother. she’d said I’ll cope when Nnalue’s family came. We are poor. My mother is sick. Marriage seems good.
Nnalue had told me ”…Mama ‘died’ when my only brother Emenike died”.
I was still in pain. Mama cuddled him to her hut. Her Biafran little soldier is reborn. She obsessed over him. It’s 2 A.M. Mama hasn’t brought my son to feed. Nnalue is not on the bed. Mama’s hut is empty. Mama and Nnalue had told the villagers they are labourers from ’Obirika’. I am duped!


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