"That's the boy who killed his father. That's the boy who turned his mother to a widow... Let's see if he is going to marry his mother"
These are the words of people against me even though it's five years since my father passed on oh! Sorry, I mean since I killed my father. Though my memories fail me sometimes, the people will never let me forget. Last year was the Jalawuru festival at my hometown but I couldn't go because of grandma that is my Father's mother. She would have given me the curse of my life. To state the truth: my surname is just a camouflage as I practically don't belong to the Bolade family. No one seems to care for me again. As far as they are concerned, I am the accursed child who killed his father. Though, I'm my mother's only child, my mum should have the privilege of getting married to another man but no man wants to marry a woman with a cursed womb.
Whenever needs arise, my mum also although mildly reminds me of my sin. She will say, ' Were your father to be alive, this won't happen'. I don't know how to remind her that my father was alive when I didn't go to school for a session because I couldn't pay the tuition fee. This isn't because my father doesn't have the money but he spent it on concubines. Only if I can remind my mum that my father was alive on those nights when I had to take cassava flakes to bed or sometimes water. Do I have to remind my mum of those days she had to hawk sobo in order to feed me. How dare her now accuse me of killing someone whose life and death don't make any difference. Maybe my mum misses those nights of the creaking bed when father had to mount his drunken body on her. Does she miss those whimperings as daddy makes promises they both know he wouldn't fulfill. Mum is an ingrate. I saved her from death yet all she could do is accusing me of killing a thief who wanted to steal her life.
"Gbam, gbam, gbam... Mama Deji can't you open the door?"
That is father's drunken self. Mummy rises up to get the door but she is met with slap, kicks, blows and curses. She had complained earlier of headache and weakness. Mummy wasn't feeling fine. The beating continued and I couldn't take it anymore. So I stood up, picked the stool beside my mat and hit on father. I actually didn't expect him to die, I only wanted him to stop hitting mother and now the beating is gone forever but mum doesn't want it to stop. I was just fourteen so I couldn't go to jail.
I don't think mother will ever forgive me for killing her husband. I killed my mum's husband...I remain the Father-Killer.