I couldn’t remember the last time I went to grandma’s house, No 5 Nwaniba road had become sort of a taboo after it happened. Faint memories still linger though, my cousins and I dancing awilolokoba at the backyard with our hands on her big calabash and our buttocks out, twerking is what they call it these days, we were ahead of our time. I remember her cats rubbing against my leg while we ate at the dining table, she’d tell us ‘don’t give them fish, that’s all they want’ in her raspy voice and thick AkwaIbom accent, cases of theft had been pinned on them and we went scout free. But that’s all I remember and as we watched her dwindle away, I wondered if that’s all she remembered too.
She wore a bright pink dress, walked into the cafe bringing in a calm breeze that set the mood right. It wasn’t her perfume, it was her soul.
‘Coffee to go please’.
I had never met her before but I imagined she was loved. I imagined her heart big enough to soothe the deepest pains, heal the broken.
‘Milk or sugar? ‘ I asked
She looked sad, Continue reading