Bọ́ládalẹ́ Tèmítọ́pẹ́ Maryam

Abdullah saw the hate, felt the touch of the anger, heard the thrust of the weapon and then felt the pain. As Abdullah looked into the eyes of the man who had stabbed him, he saw his own fear reflected in his killer. He saw the eyes of the politician’s daughter from his independence day operation, pleading as he had thrust his manhood into what was left of her after the rest of the gang had had their way with her. He saw her blood mingle with his.