When Emelda entered the line that demarcated her village from the other, she knew it was time to brace up for greetings.
One reason she had told the Okadaman to drop her at her father’s compound. Not before, not after. But straight to her father’s abode.
The Okadaman refused. And watched her eyes sag in frustration. He could see the loads she would carry all by herself. He looked at her and looked at the load, and urged her to carry them as they were only a few clothes in the luggage.
What of those older women that carried heavier loads on their heads? Were they stronger than her? He turned his engine on to leave but stopped to hear her last words. Again. She implored him and promised to pay him better but he still refused, saying that the road was bad and the wheel of his motorcycle was shaky and blah blah blah.
