![]() ![]() He only came home drunk to claim for food violently - food he hadn’t bought. In the days when he was living with us, dad was a terrible drunkard. She had to I had become too alert to the number of men coming in and out of her room for her to ignore it much longer. I didn’t know my dad until I was eleven, when my mom pointed out a man and said he was the one. Yes, he was my man a man whose love no woman could resist a man you’d think you knew all about, while you actually knew nothing. He made me feel like a criminal - I guess he was a confirmed one himself, with more nicknames than he ever let you know. ![]() The Catholic Father she took me to, soon after, called me Miriam, which was confirmed by a Bishop some time later then the man I so loved nicknamed me Milly and refused to listen to my appeals against it. My mom called me Nyambiu when she bore me. I was born with a touch of Christianity and I didn’t like shortcuts, especially when it came to names. He never once told you that I had begged him hundreds of times not to make the name stick. Call me Milly, because he made you believe I liked the name. ![]()
0 Comments
Leave a Reply. |