THE HEN ALWAYS COME HOME TO ROOST

Two things I’ve struggled with on Sundays has been going to church with a notebook and dressing to church here the way I used to dress back in Nigeria.


Growing up, if there was anything we look forward to on Sundays, it was putting on our best clothes. Right from infant, church was a big deal – my mum made sure of that.

In the same vein, we had Sunday school teachers who almost made it a call of duty to teach us and demand we always come to church with a bible to read, a book to write on and a pen to do it with. It was part of our costumes for Sunday service – a total package.

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LETTER TO MY SON

The day love would find me
In the eyes of my son
Is the day I would shame milk
Relinquishing it to you, my Sun.

Silence will not be golden the day you come
Everyone will need you to cry!
Oh my baby! Sing the song of tears
Tell us the stories of foetal fears
That you had growing within years!

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