Prose

Speaking to the Wind

“Chioma! Chioma! Chioma…! Bring the spoon here!” Mama shouted above every voice from the kitchen into the house. Her voice was mighty, thunderous, and sounded very urgent. It had priority over other voices, over the bleating of goats and lambs, barking of dogs, gossips, chirruping of birds, cackling of fowls, cries of babies, cantankerous arguments, chitchats, and the announcement gongs of town-criers in the fading distance. Continue reading

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