Ngure’s Place

Cutie-Navaeh you're not alone. This was my life. I overcame, and so will you.

Ngure's Place

We were living there in 1993.

The whole night my father and mother argued.

They were not loud, and the issue was food as usual.

We were hungry.

In the morning, my father got up and went out.

My mother woke up and roused me.

She requested that I place the stove on a stool by her bed.

She wanted to check whether the stove had enough kerosene.

I obliged.

Presently, my father came back. He had gone out to relieve himself.

He found my mother checking the stove.

He hit the stove with so much force and anger, it flew apart and spilt kerosene all over.

He then washed up, dressed and went out.

We embraced the hunger.