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Cornered
“Don’t thank me. We are only doing what every God-fearing person will do.”
Fesobi responded, his eyes lingering on those of the girl sitting beside her mother in the yawning expanse of the Kalejaiye’s living room. The girl inched closer to her mum further closing a non-existent space between them. Her mum, Victoria Omotunde, a forty something woman who washed clothes for the Kalejaiyes perched on the edge of the leather seat they occupied, her hands clasped in front of her — wizened with memories of a hard life. She had a jaded scarf wrapped around her balding head — her face framed in worry lines that had seen everything. He eyes, sharp and determined weighed down by the bags under them. Her skin — long forgotten mahogany. It was her first time inside the big house. Tamilore had told her about the house but being there, sitting in its vastness was humbling. She hadn’t seen a house more beautiful than that in her whole life.
“God go bless you sah. If it is not you, only this one is going to school in the rest of them. Since the daddy run away, it is only this shild that bring me good luck … she get good star. Pastor always tell me that God will use her for me and his remaining brothers and sisters. God will bless you sah. God will bring helper for you and your children anywhere they dey …” as she said this she paused to look at a framed picture hanging beside the largest television she had seen to…
