umbrella began to turn towards the road in confusion. Suddenly the wooden tables, plastic chairs and the smoke from the charcoal stove looked very small and very ordinary in front of what he was driving. Amara’s teenage daughter Jessica stopped mid-step with the plate in her hand.
Even Mama Hannah, who was in the middle of her usual plate of jollof rice and meat, froze with her spoon hanging in the air. Three long, shiny black SUVs crawled into the narrow neighborhood like kings lost their way. People stood up from their chairs.
Some whispered
Whose cars are these, is he a politician, is there a problem
Cars stopped right in front of Amara’s small roadside restaurant, the same restaurant built of a wooden table, two large coolers and a torn umbrella fluttering in the air. Amara’s heart almost stopped. She closed her eyes around the serving ladle, her hands stained with broth and oil. She had never seen cars this rich standing so close in her life.
She certainly didn’t think she came for her.
Open the first car door. A tall, bitter-skinned man came down. He looked like he was carved from money itself, an elegant suit in a clean navy blue color, shiny, polished shoes, and a watch on his wrist that shone like a diamond. Behind him came two frowning guards, looking at the place with sharp looks as if they were protecting a head of state. The man looked neither right nor left.
He walked straight towards Amara’s little restaurant straight towards her.
The entire neighborhood held its breath.
Jessica whispered
Mama is coming to us.
Amara felt weakness in her knees and small sparks dancing in S.Draha. She quickly wiped her hands with her apron but the broth stains refused to go away. The man stopped right in front of her. His eyes were warm and filled with a strange bit of emotion.
He cleared his throat once and said,
Good evening.
Amara couldn’t speak. She just shook her head as if her lips were stuck together. He continued, saying:
Please, who is Amara, the owner of this place
There was silence even inside the coolers. A plate fell behind them and broke on the floor. Slowly, her hands trembling, Amara raised her fingers
A i.e. I am Amara.
The man exhaled a heavy breath that shook him.Dora then said the words that made Amara’s world tilt
Thank you for sheltering and feeding my mother every day.
Gasps of astonishment spread throughout the street as if they were a wave of sound.
Mama, any mother, someone whispered.
Amara blinked quickly
Your mother who is your mother
Before the man could speak, a weak, trembling voice came from behind Amara
Please who is your mother
Everyone turned around.
It’s Mama Hannah. Her hands were shaking and her plate almost fell from between her fingers. Her eyes are wide, frightened and wet with tears. Drop down
