“Where is my son?” Mother asked. “Where is Omololu?” she repeated, looking to the policemen for answers. One of them gestured to the body on the floor. In shock and unbelief, Mother hesitated to go down to the floor where Omololu’s body lay. She looked at me with her red teary eyes wide open. I pressed my lips together and shook my head. It couldn’t be him, I was trying to convince myself. With much courage, Mother slowly pulled away the Ankara fabric that was used to cover his body. As she pulled the wrap away, she noticed the dagger cut across his throat and quickly pulled it back up. She must have feared to see how badly the rest of his body would be. She held her neck tight as though willing his lit throat to be mended. I saw the goose pimples instantly form all over her body.
“Omololu”, she called gently. “Omololu, Mummy is here. Open your eyes Baby. I’m here. Everything will be fine”, she said, as her voice trembled so did her hands as she struggled to lift him to herself. “Omololu –“
“Mummy”, I cried as I tried to pull her away from him.
“Call your brother”, she said as the tears rolled down her cheeks. “He will surely hear you. Call him. Tell him to open his eyes”, she said as the sobs let loose uncontrollably.
“Mummy”, I cried even more as I held her in a tight embrace. I could only cry for her. I couldn’t cry for myself. I loved my brother but I had also lead him to his death.
“We assure you that the school authority is doing all they can to call the culprits to book”, one of the policemen said when Mother quieted down. “We will definitely be in touch. Please accept our condolence’, he continued. “My men will help you with his body to your car when you are ready”.
Mother looked at Omololu again. He was truly gone.