Once upon a time in the past, late “Baba gbonke” (My dad) barged into our room like a tiger around 5 am on a Saturday morning.


“Shalewa! Bode! Bolade! So you people are still sleeping eh!” He growled.

Sluggishly, we struggled to stand up on our feet.

We call him “Baba gbonke” because; he broke one of his legs at the farm while he was a child so he hops on one foot and he was also, always hurling the word “Gbonke” at us. Even though none of us had the slightest idea of what it meant at that time, we always threw it back at him like a sword in our minds. Anyway, back to my gist…

“Your mates are already on the island. You lazy bones! I can’t blame you; I blame your runaway mother.” He lamented.

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