|Posted by John Powell on March 4, 2011 at 6:30 AM|
'Look at yourself, Kwame Mainu! You’re thirty one years old and you still don’t have a house or a good job. You’ve no ambition for your family. You talk about pursuing your education but you still don’t have even a first degree. You can never make up your mind about anything. I’m tired of making excuses for you to my family and friends. You’re a disgrace to us all. I’ve been talking to your mother and she says you’re just like your father. He was the laughing stock of this town, an opinionated colonial gentleman who never went to church but acted as though he thought himself better and wiser than everyone else. She was forced to give up on such a useless person and I must do the same. So next time you come back, don’t expect to find me waiting patiently in this hovel. I’ve got better things to do.'
This bitter outburst froze Kwame’s brain. He rose to his feet in a wave of dizziness that was much more than he usually experienced in rising abruptly from a low stool. He groped for the door as the room swung around drunkenly. Pulling it ajar, he lurched out into the bright sunlight and stumbled across the broken ground of the compound. He was deaf to the calls of women pounding fufu and blind to the old men under the mango tree pulling pipes from open mouths as he passed. Somehow he avoided treading on infants crawling on the bare earth and passed out of the compound and onto the busy trunk road outside.
The Colonial Gentleman's Son, Page 247