KTHT PROMPT: Write about things you wish you could forget
I Was Nine Years Old the First Time I Saw a Decapitated Body
And other stories that made up my childhood in a slum
On the way to my childhood church, there’s a canal that stretches along the length of the street. The water in it is pitch black and as is usual in most Nigerian cities, it serves as a dumping ground for everyone and everything. People with overfull waste bins in their homes tired of waiting for the waste movers would use the cloak of darkness to throw dirt into the canal every other day.
My brothers and I held onto our aunt’s hands as we walked to church for evening service when we saw a small crowd gathering. All eyes were toward the canal so we looked too. We had no choice but to look. It was in our faces all through our walk to church.
Two heads floating in the water with both eyes closed. And as we kept walking, very near the entrance to our church, we saw one body at the other end of the water.
I was nine and my brothers were five and three years old. My aunt was a teenager at the time…
