Driving into the compound full of decrepit buildings I have worked in for twenty years of my life was the worst part of my day.
 It wasn’t the hot sun beating down on my bald head, for every time I ran an errand for the H.O.D
 It wasn’t when the air conditioner went dead because the power system was shut off and there was no fuel in the generator.


I sweated like a Christmas goat and tried to keep it from entering my food as I tore Ogufe with my teeth.
 It was not when my head started pounding and I had to go teach my students a visual class without a projector .

It was not even when my mother called me that my father was hospitalized and I sent her my son’s school fees to pay his bills.
 It wasn’t when I stood in my office staring at the awards and certificates that have lost their meaning. I wonder if they ever meant anything.
 The worst part every day is returning here, knowing that I am nothing and I will never be more than this.

Originally published on Wordpress

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