ON THE STREETS OF LAGOS

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The mysterious noise that ushered me back to the area was uncanny.
What now? I asked myself, why did the drama have to come when I should be my Mother's side sipping this dark goodness? Life is never fair, and no two circumstances are ever equal.
Such racketeering only occurs in the case of a garage fight which we have thankfully not had in three days. That is some good news. Good news in this area is short-lived, and there we go again.
I found my legs moving faster than they had been doing; all I needed was to be sure my Mother had not gone mad again. Not mad, but you know, the crazy kind. Honestly, she could be a handful, but that woman is still all I have.
As I moved closer to Mama's shop, the voices only increased, and no one seems to allow anyone to talk. Everyone was trying to speak at once, sigh, "these people will never change." I know no one would pay me mind, so I slipped through the forming crowd to see how my Mother was at least faring. Push, shove, and elbows, I made it to the front. The sight that greeted me is one I will not forget in a hurry.

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Brains! Brains and blood splattered all over! Oh, such a terrible mess. I have no recollection of the drinks slipping off my slightly firm grasp, hearing them fall to the ground brought me back to that consciousness; that I had been holding a prized possession. At that very moment, I did not care; all I wanted to see was my Mother.
The face belonging to the brain is one I did not recognize. Who had done this for goodness sake and, more importantly, where in heaven's name is my Mother?

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