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He had lost his innocence on a similar night at this, eighteen years ago. The moon had been just as bright when Father John invited him to his quarters.
The priest had forcefully torn through the Senibo’s innocence, creating in him a rage that knew no calm until he watched the abusive Reverend Father as he bled to dead in his arms a week later.
He turned thirteen when he stabbed the shameless pederast on the vein through the neck with the sharp edge of a broken bottle.
It is how he ran away from Mother Cecilia’s orphanage and took refuge at the slum close to the bridge where different people footfalls are the way fear is described.
It is where he learned survival. The begun his thorn-filled career into petty crimes, because for him how to thief is a distributive perceptive, where two or three comes and share ideas on how to obtain what isn’t theirs.
He met the money he had been longing for but what happened to Senibo made his ghost realized; a boy is a snow build close to the river. It is not because Senibo had it all wrong but it was because even the boy child has a case that needs people to ask about what really happened to Senibo at the orphanage where he met Anuty Amaka.
Who then was so sympathic, lovely and supportive but what do we expect from a boy who claims a tree filled with ants with nakedness. They went for robbery and as they entered, it was a woman with her three girls.
The rules are not just pick the money but loot everything. So as a gang they held the rule on the throat.
Anuty Amaka requested. “I want to see the face of the man that wants to rape me?”
He unmasked, and she cried out “Senibo, it is me Aunty Amaka, please don’t do this”
He stopped but according to the rule, if you don’t like to loot allow others, yet Senibo refuses and the end came calling.
No one knew of him again or had heard of him; he became breathless boy running errands for bullet holes.
Isoboye Danagogo…. ©2018…..