When I finished buying some provisions, fruit salad tickled my Brian. And I have this one habit of being uncomfortable whenever I deny my self anything, be it National assembly game or state Assembly. Just anything, but here it was just fruit salad. There were up to three fruit sellers in that roll and none of them had fruit salad. On their tables and Barrow, you see groundnut, sliced and unsliced water melon, cucumber, pawpaw and pineapple. "Uncle Bia goteme m, uncle come and buy from me" the youngest of the beautiful girls fought for my hands. Imagine that, she won already. I was at first lost in abject indecision on who to buy from. Three of them took their bathe at omala river. They are beautiful, neat and friendly. That's the things I consider before I buy certain things. They all claimed to know what I want. "Uncle ama m ive ichoro. I have what you're looking for" (That was exactly her dialect, they all must be Nsukka indigenes) Final...

            Credit: Thetrent I was my father's able right hand man. That was in my primary and secondary school days, anyway. His Provision store and Bar was virtually my room, kitchen, parlour and everything. I spent most of my childhood days under his care (never as if mum wasn't close, I was Daddy's son). When I was preparing for common entrance examination, he swore to make sure that I attended a boarding school. It wasn't a cheerful gift by the way; he had expected me to say no because little boys in our neighborhood cried each time their parents declared that they would be going to boardinghouse. Sending you to a boarding school is more like a deterrence. It was almost synonymous with punishment, because when you go to boardinghouse, you're totally disconnected with the love that flows in the street. And those who went to boardinghouse narrated their horror experiences, ranging from seniors bullying you to a a compulsory morning devotion and the w...