You forcefully open the double doors to your room to see your reflection in the large spotless mirror staring at you, as you try to avoid the Master. Your image kills the mustard seed of hope you have been trying to nurture – your eyes exhausted from too many tears. Your lips are chapped, and the glory of your skin is in the past - your beautiful skin as your mother would remark. You wonder if it’s because of its fairness or the hairless sight of it, or the chubby feeling when touched. And then you reckon the eyes of your mother are not yours. Your beauty lies in your freedom, you think to yourself. You affirm that you don’t belong here, not in this castle with grey walls, lofty ceilings, and heavy brown curtains. Not viewing ancient paintings of wars. Not on a bed for a crowd and certainly not wearing these expensive clothes too pure to smear. You recall the first day of your arrival at your new home. You were greeted by a servant who avoided your eyes as he bowed his head and sai...
SNOW WHITE It is 6 AM. Yaba bus stop is already crowded with workers struggling to board comfortable buses. Many ignore smoky, scrappy, dirty and high-fare vehicles; Friday gives you such luxury. It does not take too long before an accepted bus stops in front of me. The bus is barely empty; occupied by the drive, conductor, a man and a woman dressed like it was snowing that morning. I board the bus and suddenly, this winter like woman hands me a tract which I turn down. She looks at me like the devil’s advocate. I sit as far away from her as possible. The bus is finally ready to kick off with all passengers in their seats. Many of us are with our face masks but not Snow White. Suddenly, we are jerked from our sleepy states by a deafening shout: “repent my brothers and sisters, everything is vanity. God loves you so much even if you cannot create the world, or the rivers or the sky. Or can you.” A man in front of Snow White suddenly remembers his face mask and digs ...