Buchi usually didn’t ask God for much; he preferred to work hard and save prayers for times when he needed a miracle. This was one of those times, so all the way home, he prayed. That God would smile on him. Before the gates slid open and he caught sight of her car in the garage, he knew she was home. He parked his car and walked the short distance to the house.
Aderibigbe stood to one side in the clearing, several feet away from the circle of dancing men. He shivered a little in the cold; he only had a white wrap around his waist. As he waited, the doubts of the past few days came back to him and his heart began to race. Many would argue that, at 18, he had become a man, but he didn’t think that much of himself. Even after weeks of learning rules and secrets, he didn’t feel prepared; what did he know about battles or ruling over people? He turned his eyes to Oluwo, who was seated across from the
“Simbi! Will you not answer my question?” Lalude came forward and kicked the pot of water that served as his wife’s mirror; the water rippled and her image blurred. She glared up at him “What? What question?” “Where are you going? You have been painting just your face for almost an hour!” “How is it your concern where I go and how long I take to get ready?” “What do you mean? Am I not your husband? Am I not the head of this home?” She laughed. “So, you’re the head of this home? First prove that you’re a man, then we can talk about heading a