Baba fola scowled and hissed loudly, not to anyone in particular but also to everyone who was within his space. As he laid sprawled on his bed he thought about his life and how it would very much end soon enough, he had taken ill some months back and it sucked out his being.
Before the illness, everyone feared baba-- at least most. His first born daughter Jare hated him, and understandably to anyone who knew baba. Baba made sure Jare's life was a living hell, no one knew why but that he hated her. He prevented anyone from calling him Baba jare but his second daughter's name Fola.