The old man was returning from the east again. They say he had a tragedy this trip. One of his fawns had been eaten by a wild and hungried man whom no one had the heart to chastise. Yet, Minister Adekunle loved his livestock more than his children. It was something about the Ethiopians, the secrets they hid, that resulted in their strange but charming nature.
"If you would please, the wine..."
I passed it to him. "Sir..."
"Thenk you." I heard it. The final inflection. HE had succumbed to Greece. Now
he would be branded a homosexual and never be allowed burial in Ethiopia, the land
of his Fathers, again.
"What is your name sir?" I asked him urgently.
"This is a breach of protocol" he said derisively. But he must have sensed my
urgency. "Theophilus." He spelled it. I nodded. We shook hands. Then he shook
his head and smiled at me. "It's not such a bad gig, you now..." he said. "My people are a bit looney."
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment