While growing up, there was this girl who lived with her family in the same flat that was attached to mine. Apart from sharing a supporting wall, we also shared a first name, Ebube, and that was somehow the foundation for our friendship. Imagine living next to someone who bore the same name as you. The mistaken shouts of your name you thought were coming from your mother but instead resonated off the walls from the next-door neighbour's house. We had a decent relationship. I visited and played with her, and the family and life were calm. Then all of a sudden, my mother told me that I had to stop going over to their house one day. Imagine my shock. I had asked why and my mother, being the All-Nigerian woman she is, bluntly told me that is was a demand from Ebube's father. I was confused. I kept wondering why the sudden restriction. I still asked my mother, but she never answered as though in an attempt to lessen the effect of the news. From then on out, the re...
Just me. Checking vitals, and watching people get cut.