Our father Paul Charles Okoro has lost his head, maybe between a woman's laps or he forgot them in one of his expensive alcohol bottles.

New comers in the street thinks he is a Soldier but everyone call him Oga police.

He walks as if he comes from the lineage of kings or even if it were the lineage of royal slaves, it would have been better but my father has lost trace to his generation.

My father has six brothers. They died the same way, they all died in a ditch after drinking to stupor on their way from visiting the watery holes of cheap women.

My father, Paul Okorocha would have died the same way too but he was saved by my mum, Ma Onome! He would have entered the ditch too but she singlehandedly saved him and carried him to his house. There and then, once his eyes were clear, he fell in love with her.

I don’t know what came over my mother, Ma Onome but she agreed to marry him after three weeks.

My father and his six dead brothers have luck when it comes to tasteless, cheap women. Women who fall in love with dirty beards, big stomach, bald head with a big dick, just the perfect size for their oversized cunt.

These six dead brothers lived for women and by women. They built houses from the sweat of reckless women. Hence, when my father's six brothers died, Father acquired a massive wealth.

Paul Charles Okorocha has money everywhere: his wounded cars as a result of accident, on the bed, in a locked room.

It is this money that belongs to the dead spirits of his brothers that has turned my father's head upside down.

I see the way his eyes bulge proudly, I see the way his shoulders raise suddenly like a newly bought chicken who knows it still has few days left to spend before it is sent to it's early grave; I see the way his legs suddenly begina kukere walk step when he is called Oga landlord.

When the sound of Paul Okorocha's Car is heard, every one run into hiding. The little kids who come to play with our Ejima, Chinelo and Chizoba all find their way out of the house.

See, in these situations, the kids are the ones I pity least, even as they hit their heads against one another while trying to run. Truly, the sound of the children hitting their heads against one another is usually very loud yet they force back their tears.

The scenario is usually touching, some of the younger ones would push their shivering hands into their younger ones mouth to prevent them from crying while the older ones would caress their own head which will inevitably get swollen and of a truth it does gets swollen.

The next day, when I see the kids, I avoid their eyes, I hate the contours caused on their head by my ugly father disfiguring their innocent faces.

Hence, even as they call me “Aunty Mirabel, Aunty Mirabel” I do not turn back to look at them. How can I look at their injured heads caused by my father? And sometimes I do not want them to see the tears streaming down my cheeks. My tears of pity and shame.

Everyone has sustained an injury because of my coconut headed father. His head looks like the buttocks of a roburst woman.

The one I pity the most is my Mum, Ma Onome. When Papa arrives, I see the way she always jump in fright. I see the way her lips open to say something but she only stutters. Then she would carry Chinelo in her hands. Chinelo is Ma Onome's anchor because when Papa starts to rant, Ma Onome would fondle Chinelo's skirt nervously.

When Papa enters the house, he doesn’t respond to anyone's greeting. He begins to complain immediately: The house is unkempt. That he heard our noises right from the junction. He complains that we should respect ourselves. He complains about the food served in a poor manner. He says Ma Onome is too friendly. He complains that he sees some boys lurking around our house, our street. Even if we all tell him that we don’t know the boys, he still shouts that the boys are lurking around because of Adaobi, our elder sister.

Sometimes, after he orders Adaobi to sweet his room. He would still go about looking for the tiniest dust. Then he would ask me to sweep it again. Still he wouldn’t be content, then he would ask Aishat, our house help to sweep again. He is too neat, too perfect. Everyone fears and respects him. He carries himseld like Mountain Everest.

Ma Onome fears Paul Okorocha. Chinelo and Chizoba burst into tears at the sight of him. I fear Papa too, I fear him greatly. Truly, I cannot remember the time I looked into his eyes until this night.

After few hours of trying to fight my pee tonight, I had to stand up to go to the toilet. I was close to the toilet when I heard someone breathing funny. I tiptoed, opened the door which opened easily for me.

There stood Papa, with Ma Onome's wrapper tied around his Fat waist… There stood Papa, sniffing Aisha's Pant! Aisha! our house help!

He continued to sniff with closed eyes, when I couldn’t stand the demeaning sight anymore, I screamed his name.
“Pa… Okorocha!”

To be continued.

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Note: This write-up is fictional and does not relate to me in any way. Thanks.

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Image Source: Pinterest

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My Pen Bleeds!