The solomon of settlement

Wayne Schubard is a close talker, a lawyer who represents *Dynamo corporations- a fledging  automobile company in the united states already doing quite well in the industry- and who doubles as the company's treasury department executive for compensation and accrued dividends payout, is a white, quite plumpy man in his mid 40s with a fast receding hairline preceding a sparse mop of straight black short hair with a sprinkling of grey locks with lines etched finely by the sides of his eyes and upper cheek bone who starts his sentences about 47 cm from your face and with a rather thick husky voice, leans in to make his point.

This is an unusual trait for a guy who has to deliver the type of news that most of us would prefer to dispense from across the room or better yet, by an email from a do-not-reply address as part of his duties is to fire members of their staff, buy out little company rivals and merge it with *Dynamo automobile as well as stated above, in charge of paying compensation and accrued dividends which is about the only nice part of his job.

"...Dollars are a surrogate for worth"

 He says to us, leaning in as usual, to end a long introductory speech which pretty much was advertising his own skills and expertise at what he does after dismissing a set of family before attending to us.

 "So, you're Habiba Adagiri, am I correct...with... um.. the pronunciation?"

 He said, referring to Mom as he raised his head from a paper he was reading from to look at her then pointing at Nicole, he says he reckons she's Nicole to which she affirms with an emphatic positive nod. Wayne cleared his throat, adjusted his grey jacket and sitting position as he got ready to go into business.

"So your late husband, made some.."

Campaign of calumny

Mom arrived a while later after the policemen and the lawyer et al had left, she was so strong not to have broken down at the sight of her house put under lock and key and her belongings and kids all outside staring dejectedly into space. She assessed our whole belongings and asked if nothing was missing or broken, we shook our heads affirming nothing was missing, Hamz then asked what we were going to do next,

 "Where do we move to Mom?"

Lemonade

Mom beamed happily from ear to ear as she sashayed down the two rows of stairs leading into the sitting room from the dining area, cladded in a gold sequined body-fitting gown which hugged her womanly curves while the dress shone brightly, deflecting rays all over the place on catching the rays of light turned on around the house whilst  holding two glasses of chilled drinks in hand, walking towards her longtime pal from akwa-ibom state, Madam Effiong,

"What's this one oo my friend?"

Madam Effiong asked on sighting the off-yellow pale-coloured drink Mom was handing her, feigning mock alarm as Mom smiled,

"It's lemonade my friend, don't worry, I won't poison you!"

War of attrition

War must be!...Whether between countries , states, individuals or even families, this is part of life and while we defend our lives against a destroyer who would devour all which is instinctively essential but I do not love the bright sword for its sharpness, nor the arrow for its swiftness, nor the warrior for his glory. I love only that which they defend.

What better way to introduce this post than a poetic way which aptly sums up our perennial extended family drama.  More often than not, everyone knows the beginning of a war but not all knows the ending, am not exactly a fan of drama especially when it involves family but dramas are a part of life aren't they? And when it is within a family...it is called war...a war of attrition.

Held in contempt

"Imagine we are in an apocalyptic era and you sustained a cut or an injury and need to keep infection at bay but no penicillin...how do you create your own penicillin?"

I asked Karl from where I sat on the bed, surfing the internet with the laptop placed on a pillow on my thighs to prevent the heat from the laptop from burning my thighs,

"You tell me!",

He responded, shoveling a spoonful of cereal into his mouth and munching away while droplets of milk seaped from his mouth into the bowl, some of it trailing down his jaw as he used the back of his palm to wipe It off, I nodded, in readiness to answer,

"Well, you'll get a loaf of bread and or an orange...leave for a few days till spores begin to form...for the bread, you cut it up into smaller pieces and  add a little moisture, preferably orange juice and seal up in a bag until molds begin to develop then let it change colour and progress from white to blue then green...you see that green mold, it contains doses of penicillum, so you can either take the molds and mix up with water and drink up or scrape the mold then apply on the wound and wrap up! So there you go, a way to survive in case the world goes bust and you find yourself in the middle of a zombie apocalypse, this information might just save your life".