I was told butterflies fly and cockroaches crawl but here I am, about to believe the opposite.
I received the news of my father's death while I was still in Columbia. I was yet to settle in. I am an event planner. I was to plan Mr. Kelomo's wedding reception there. I wonder why someone would choose to do his wedding in a place where the language they speak is strange to him. Or maybe he just liked the sound of the name. C-o-l-u-m-b-i-a. The same reason people give their children names they don't even understand.
I dropped the call before the person could say more. I was confused. I was supposed to feel bad, yeah I know. But my relationship with my dad was whack. I had quarrelled seriously with him before I left Nigeria and we had not spoken for 5 days. He threatened to disown me in the presence of my mum and his PA, Felix.
"Dad, dead?", I couldn't believe it just yet. I wanted to feel bad but I swallowed the feeling with a shot of whiskey. I dropped the cup with force and it broke.
"They don't even have good glass cups here.", I said aloud and reached for my phone.
"Hello Mr. Kelomo. I just lost my dad."
He replied with a lot of 'eyah', 'sorry', 'ohhh' 'ahhh'. I wasn't interested.
"...so my team will handle everything. I'm flying back tomorrow. Please understand. We'll give you the best wedding"
Nigerians and sympathy. He didn't seem to have a problem with that. Just one fault and he would remind me that losing my dad was not freedom to do bad business. Whatever. I pushed the thought aside. My team would never do mistakes.
I got back home in the youth of the day. It was about 1 o'clock. The whole sitting room was full of visitors. My mother was in the centre weeping her eyes out.
"Awelewa, your father was shot!", my mum said to me and burst into tears again.
"Okay mummy, stop this. The whole world is in your house and you're crying like this.", I said.
I stood in the middle of the sitting room and cleared my throat. "Hello everyone. You may now leave. Thanks for coming to sympathise with us."
I heard an elderly woman say, "Their mad daughter is back. This one doesn't send anybody o. She's crazy."
Ignored her. I was not in the mood to twist her neck.
"Awe, why are you talking to these women like ...", my mum tried to say.
"Mummy, ejo, allow me. Just follow me.", I led her towards her room.
"Ogochukwu, lock the door". I instructed the maid. She waited for the old women to stream out and then locked the door.
"You're fired. Leave the house now. Don't worry, you didn't do anything. We just don't need you anymore. When you pack your bags, come get 100 thousand naira from me and leave." I said to her and left her there.
That one was my father's second wife. I know her secrets with my late dad. How know how many of my father's children she had aborted. Mum did not know. I knew. In fact, dad had given her money to abort another one just last month. 'Stupid girl'.
I took my mother to her room. We needed to talk.
"I have something to say mum. I know who killed daddy."
TO BE CONTINUED. 
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