The Letter That Shattered My Silence They say ghosts don’t wear chains anymore. They wear silence. Two decades of it. That’s how long it had been since I last set foot on Gidi Street — since I last heard my father’s voice, cold as steel and just as sharp. The lawyer’s letter found me in … Read more
The Day My Father Died, I Stopped Believing in Heroes I used to think my father was a good man. Not perfect. Not saintly. But good enough to trust. He spoke like a judge and carried himself like a king. People listened when he entered a room — even the room trembled. But the day … Read more
I came back for a burial. I didn’t expect to bury the version of my mother I’d held onto for ten years. The sun in Umueze was different. It didn’t warm you — it seared through skin and memory. I stepped out of the rusted Toyota, dust clinging to my jeans, and looked at the … Read more