The green wreaths didn’t bat an eyelid even as the sky roared breeze threatening a fierce thunderstorm. Lifeless, even though his face showed the sign of irritation it always did when he was around; clean white Guinea material to go! Classic; enough to cause me to roll my eyes. Soaked towels and a couple of damp faces i recorded , and a few forged testimonies to go.
Even in death he was no different; he was the best father, not the four mouthed whip bearing father barking out orders amidst strokes and sending sweet souled Ma to bed in tears, from heart wrenching pain, birth from watching her kids laced with blood marks.
“Painful Exit” they had chanted, only if they’d asked me a bit of all i thought of the miserable picture and words that annihilate the banner. Perhaps they’ll know of the demon that lived within us and retract the military flowers back to base. Perhaps they’d realize it wasn’t so painful. His death. It was bliss. A long awaited freedom.
Oreoluwa Deborah Oguntade