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Kalahari Review Feature: Many Faced Gods

Hey buff folks! 

My short story ‘Many Faced Gods’ is on the Kalahari Review. Read and be blessed lol.

For this Sunday service, I know the exact number of people wearing red. I do not like the colour red because my Father says it represents witchcraft. My brother is sitting beside me, but is too busy typing instant messages on his phone. He is the only one who dares to do this in my family: use a phone in church.

I allow my eyes search the crowd for my mother, even though I know exactly where she is sitting. The small church is built in a semi-circle and there are many partitions and seating arrangements to allow everybody see the preacher well. From the angle where Ibinabo and I are sitting, we could see almost all the church clearly. I now see my mother sitting at the second row of the church where she always sits.

Even though she is a Pastor’s wife, she still isn’t allowed to sit at the front row. Father says front row seats are for the men. Her hands are clasped tightly between her laps and she looks like she is squinting at the preacher. I don’t know if she is listening to the message, because she is just sitting like a statue. Her skin is the colour of dark chocolate and the kernel oil she rubs every morning, gives her a clean glow— even though it gives her a weird smell. Her long, black hair is now thinning. I can clearly see the purplish bruising on her neck, even though she tries to cover it with her scarf. I heard her telling Mama Tobi, the busybody, earlier, that it is an allergic reaction to a fake gold necklace. I don’t think Mama Tobi believes her though. I think my mother doesn’t know how to lie.

I hate lies. Continue reading

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You feel it coming for you
Every day that builds up to it
Deep and dreadful is this foreboding

Everyday it looms over your head
Like a shadow during a sunset
The thought of it so much worse
There’s nothing sweet about this wait

And then it comes
The pain so fierce, it braves you for death
Creating a hollow in your middle
Like the emptiness that comes with hunger
Except you’re not hungry

It comes when you don’t expect
In the middle of the night, most times
You toss and turn and feel it in your dreams
A pain so fierce, it rouses you from sleep

You try not to cry
But it hurts, it hurts so bad
The pain is thick and demanding
Every single minute, it needs attention
Drugs, hot water or to change position

And then it’s over
You thank the stars for this respite
And you begin to forget how terrible the pain
That is, till the foreboding comes again
And you prepare for the next month.