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Remembering the Visit

Decent Essays
Mama took special care in ironing my dress that day. It was the best dress I owned and it was usually reserved for special occasions. I had last worn it to Papa’s funeral. It had been two years since Papa died. I watched Mama as she worked, diligently straightening every crease on the red dress. I noticed that she had started to look older than she actually was but I wouldn’t mention it to her. She was already under enough stress. Uncle Joe was coming to visit. She had told us that his coming was very important and had warned my brother Enebi, and I to behave like well-mannered children. This warning was more directed at me, however. She said Uncle Joe would take me to Lagos if I seemed well behaved. She said I would live with his family and help his pregnant wife with some house chores. In return, Uncle Joe would send some money to her. She would use this money to pay Enebi’s school fees. We had stopped going to school when Papa died. I don’t really miss Papa. He owed almost everyone in the village money before he died and the burden of repaying his debts had fallen on Mama. We had sold almost all that we owned. We didn’t own much. Mama would often say that Papa ran away like a chicken, leaving us to sort out his problems. “It will never be well with you Papa Enebi!” she would cry. “Even in death, it will never be well.” She would then say that the rain will not stop falling simply because the gourd is full. Life must go on. Sometimes, I wondered if Papa could hear her,
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