Justice, Law and The City

23

The globe is experiencing a pandemic and every region was on lockdown, no movements, no ceremonies. No church and no funerals for those who were dying from the virus or those from different protest from all over the world.

Faith is putting on a loose gown mother got for her. She is lying outside on a camp bed with Hope while Mr. John sits on a wooden chair. The sky is pitch black and the only thing that designs it are the stars, alongside the lonely moon.

They chat and talk while enjoying each other's company, two girls now turned woman, cultivated by the unrest of the country. The hard palette and brush strokes against their soft beautiful canvas. Two women, born different, choose to be sisters by heart.

Father is telling them one of his infamous folklores. It is Hope's favourite folktale. The one with the witch with the long breast used in digging yam. Faith is quietly listening.

"Mr. John?"

"Mmphh."

"Has it always been this way?"

"You mean Kawa Bari in the moon?"

Hope hits him and he laughs and apologizes. "I can't remember when it hasn't been this way."

"How so?"

Mr. John sighs. It deep and it carries burdens that had been strapped tightly for too long, probably acquired from being passed down to him. He dabbled with the thought of passing such burden to these two young women. He opened his mouth to answer but luckily for him, mother comes and rubs his back. "Well, girls don't you think it's a little late. My man has got to rest for work." They smile at them as they leave. The two girls look at them, surely, they did not miss the tear that cloud his eyes.

Faith looks at Hope. They share a gaze, thousand of words unsaid hidden in the words. "We have so much in common." Faith breaks the silence first wiping her eyes. Hope wipes hers too.

"Yeah, we do." She smiles. "Our country is fucked up."

Faith cannot help but see the resemblance between father and daughter. Faith hands unconsciously goes to the now visible bump. Will the baby look like Tammy? She hoped they did.

They rest their head against the pillow as they count the stars. If they counted it, maybe, just maybe, time could fast forward.

"100, 99, 98..." faith counts and stops when Hope turns in her sleep. The baby kick and she is knocked backed back to reality. "52, 51, 50, 49...."

Not a filler but I got stuck and decided to just go with this. Imma work on it for the 2nd draft of this book.