We got off the plane running into arms of our Far away but never distant family and friends . The hugs slowly turned from welcome back to I'm sorry your papa is gone , as quick as the famished lion would notice life in an empty jungle .
"weer lewe, weer lewe. moenie hartseer te praat van die lewe weer. Allah sal die honger van baie eensame siele te vul met die teenwoordigheid van ons moeg broer" A tall , young, man with a perfect pair of jaw lines spoke as he rubbed my back . "My name is Nikolai" but i payed no attention to his introduction but The old language rushed back to me like fresh mint leaves Travis would sneak in our lemonade. Like a whole new breath of fresh air even though I never stopped breathing .
life again, life again. do not sorrow it speak of life again. Allah will replenish the hunger of many lonely souls with the presence of our tired brother
All the emotions were rushing to my head but I just- mama
"Mama!" I screamed holding my chest "waar's my mamma?Where is she?!" I let the tears streaming down my face, I can't breathe, my heart's not pumping . SOMETHING isn't doing its job , and I'm feeling it now. I saw spots crowding my vision. I felt hands on my shoulders pushing me to the ground. I closed my eyes but stayed conscience
"Joy ,breathe calm down " my heard the soothing voice of my uncle Zaire
Joy; joy has come home is the meaning of my name Ayodele.
Mama was here also, she did not have to speak to make her presence known.
She sat on the ground next me and pulled my head towards her and placed a kiss on my forehead then slowly pushed my head in between knees.
She pulled my hair into a quick pony tail and start tracing circles on the back of my neck . I slowly felt normal again and when I looked up it wasnt my mother like I had thought, I was wrong. It was my Best friend Niya, and I could never be happier. I hugged her quicker than than I knew I could move. An silent condolence is what she gave me and it probably worked better than the tightest drukkie there.
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After our "welcoming party" at the airport and my panick attack we decided to go to our house in South Sudan and of course Papa's body was sent off to the morgue . Niya was helping me put my bags away and going through my old stuff and trying to see what she could take , Ayan sat there too laughing along with us.
"Dele waah bout this one ?" She said with her thick accent, holding up my soft pink curved hem bodycon dress .
"Hmmm try it on" I say even though I'm going to let her have it anyway
"Ehhhh fine" she said walking out if my closet "what are you wearing to the memorial ?" She said softly
Papa didn't want a funeral , he wanted a small gathering with everyone dressed in Grand boubous ,Dashikis, and Senegalese kaftans.
"We have to go shopping , its traditional and I can't fit any of my wraps anymore" I rolled my eyes and put my head in my pillow .
" Jesaja kinders, get down here!" I heard my uncle Zaire yell from somewhere in the house, but then I heard the sliding door close
I rolled off my bed then Ayan and I made our way to the kitchen where he sat with around 4 men and 1 woman on our back patio what is this about?
ВЫ ЧИТАЕТЕ
Ayodele's decimate
Aksi"kry dit hanteer of ek sal dit hanteer, deur die bloed op jou hande my manne sal eet. En as daar is bloed aan myne, jy werk nie reg gedoen." I sneered into the phone. "SILLY RABBITS TRICKS ARE FOR MOTHERFUCKERS WHO READY TO DIE" I threw it into the...
