This Light is Not Beautiful

...Omonoba...

Our people say:

"Ògà-ǹ-gà lomo-ò mi ńjé, e má pe omo-ò mi ní Ògò-ǹ-gò mó!" Èwo lorúko rere níbè?
"My child's name is Ògàǹgà; don't you call my child Ògòǹgò any more!" Which of the two is a good name?

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I have been writing a particular piece and I have finished.I cannot describe how much I am attached to the characters in this piece and I constantly read through to modify and live with them. It is very rewarding to feel compelled by one's own writing. Very rewarding. Plus, simplicity is key.  Here's an excerpt. 

She, the woman who has welcomed me graciously and is now skimming through the small refrigerator, says that her name is Laura not aunty Laura. She has pale skin too but hers is very unlike mine. It matches her eyelashes and her hair and her eyes. In short, hers is beautiful. It is as if the sun chose to brighten Laura’s skin but bleach mine; and kiss the skins of the rest of the country.  Laura is aberrant. She speaks kindly like a friend would and not as if she pities me. She expresses concern that I have worn a shirt and tie and locked my fingers cautiously as if I were being interviewed.

‘It’s a chat, you have your legs crossed’ she says amidst giggles. So, I uncross them.

‘I find you very interesting. Tell me more about yourself.’

Her aura is fast spreading. She does not act as if I am a victim, she only wants to talk. She is different. But then, she is not from around here.

And another:

The Boys' Quarters and the main house are separated by a large sandy space defined by green Ixora bushes. Then, there is a big almond tree at the corner of the BQ. I pick a short broom from behind the front door and slap the head to tighten the bunch. The ground is moist and leaves have fallen from the almond tree. I pick a few ripe almond fruits from the ground and place them gently on the foot mat in front of the front door. I do not need to pluck froots today since the rain has helped me. By the time the landlord’s children come in a day or two to pluck froots, there will be a new batch ready for plucking. As I sweep, aunty Flo-uncle Chijioke’s wife- comes outside with a steel bucket. She is wearing a long transparent night dress with frills on the neck and the sleeves. I see that she is wearing pale blue panties; the kind that stop just under the butt cheeks. I also see that she is not wearing a brassiere but I do not see much because there is hardly anything up there to be seen. I greet her.

Alright, my Knorr buddies. Thank you so much and have a blessed Romans-1-16-sort'a day.