Cracks

There are cracks appearing on our house. The kitchen wall, if you pass the backyard, by the pipes.

It’s reminiscent of mother and father’s marriage – Cracks!

He brought another baby home, yesterday. The mother doesn’t want her, he says.

I now have two siblings that Mother didn’t give birth to. I don’t know how to explain it to you, but my family has always been like that.

Father is known to travel for months. He’s an officer, you see. They have to travel, Nigeria is not very safe like that. So, he’s always on duty.

From all his trips, he brings souvenirs. Now, you’d expect cashews or colorful toys from Benue or Kaduna, but Father was not like regular people.

He brought interesting gifts, one you won’t forget in a hurry. That’s how gifts are meant to be, – right?

Toluwase was a gift too. Father brought him from his trip to Ilesha. He spent two years there, so the baby was grown when he brought him.

Now, there’s another gift in the Children’s room.

It’s a girl.

I have never seen anybody so yellow in my life.

I finally have a sister, but Mother won’t let me play with her.

The cracks are deepening, and the paint is chipping off, from the kitchen wall.

I fear that like mother’s patience, once it’s all chipped off, we would leave.

2 thoughts on “Cracks

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