A Piece Of Me

We used to free, playing on the streets,kicking empty cans all the way to school and back. We were free to visit the stream,coming back home with eyes so red you can’t deny where you’ve been ( you really didn’t need to anyway) We used to be free to eat,drink in the neighbours friends house coming back home with big round tommies and shirts stained with oil due to the struggle for meat. It was actually allowed to remove our sandals and walk bare feet, swinging them in rhythm of songs learnt from the village square last night. Parents yes, but the society was the standard model and watch dog. Kids getting spanked by total strangers when due and still complimented for not sparing the rod when the news filtered back home. Teachers were idolized as mini gods due to the importance society placed on them- a noble profession with “rewards in heaven”. Life for us as kids was super fun. We built castles with mud,using our legs as designs. Creativity and natural instincts buzzing in our heads. Th

“Its either you are the new Virgin Mary or you lied abou t your virginity status in your form, because your pregnancy test result is here and it shows you are seven (7) weeks pregnant!. So which is it? Be rest assured that even your fathers status as Senior Pastor cannot make this panel bend the rules for you. Am afraid but you will have to call off the wedding”. Those words from the church marriage committee this morning is still echoing in my ears long after I left their presence. Hours later, as I sat on the hotel couch, throw-pillow half soaked with hot tears in my hand, looking hopelessly at the mirror trying to see what part of my life I could salvage from the destructive chain of events that had quickly kicked in since my meeting with the panel ended and I walked shamefully out of the church premises hurriedly into the waiting Uber taxi. “Back to Wuse II where I picked you or to another location? Ma? The very kind driver obviously noticed there was something wrong with me. I was