Maami: by Chiedozie Dike


I know that Maami loves me. She’s never said so to me, but she’s shown me, with gentility and with fire. Her soft, perfumed bosom is home, her thick arms feel like bands of protection encircling me each time they wrap me in one of her powerful, most times sudden, embraces. And those embraces have been coming more and more of late, as though she were taking advances on all the hugs due her in the future neither of us could hope for anymore.

I know that Maami loves me, with the certainty of the heart beating warm in my chest. And for the longest time that was the only definitive truth: the fact of Maami’s love. That we had weathered storms that had seen us from the dingy mud hut in Ogbomoso to the three-bedroom concrete bungalow in Ajah. That we had left an unsavoury life behind, by the…

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