Today is Fathers burial, and as much as I try, not a single tear drops .I blink continuously hoping this would at least make me cry but even this doesn't work, I'm beginning to feel awkward amidst the multitude of people crying and wailing and those being dramatic enough to roll on the ground.
My younger sister Jumai is standing beside me holding my 9 month old son Joshua. Unlike me, she is crying, not as loud as the others but soft silent sobs only loud enough for me to hear. I gently wrap my arms around her to comfort her.
Father built the first mansion in our village and also renovated the town City Hall, he was what I called 'a man of the people' loved by most but hated by some, some who I am among but I choose not to talk about it today, he deserves that respect for at least bringing me into this world
