I found mama bent over a tray of beans, picking out the shafts in the silence of the night. As I sat to join her, she gave me a limp smile.
“Nne set the fire, let me get water” She disappeared into the storeroom and emerged with a gallon. In a heartbeat I made the fire and when its light met mama’s face, it told the tale of a woman with thirteen children. She emptied the water into the beans.
“Kerosene!…It’s not water, it’s kerosene”
A tear ran down her face and made for the floor.