No time or experience embraced the challenge of conquering Friday evenings. I never helped either; I was enjoying the consistent defeat of the Ultimate Search of a special time or moment which could top the list. It was always Friday evenings, not because of the popular “TGIF”, I mean, I was just ten years. I had no idea that the “TGIF” abbreviation would exist someday.
Well that aside…
Back then, Friday evenings excited me because they broke the strong wall of anticipation and of course, the blaring unique sound of the horn of my father’s ash coloured Nissan Bluebird was the red button of my “excitement explosive”.
“Daddy!” That was the green light to the power race of the Umahi siblings. We would jump on him. Next was to box all corners of his ears with different news in descending order; the latest to the staled while our eyes looked out for fresh corn, bananas, groundnut or his mouth-watering homemade stew. As our feet smelt the door, my head would go through my mind in search of answers on the whereabouts of my book.