Shoes in the Dust | Chapter 2
Chapter 2: Mama’s Burden
Emeka’s mother, Mama Chioma, watched him from the veranda. She saw his skinny legs kicking that ball as if it were his lifeline.
Her hands trembled slightly as she folded his father’s old agbada. It still smelled faintly of him — palm oil and sweat and faint cologne. She remembered the nights they’d huddled together on the streets, shielding baby Emeka from mosquitoes and the cold.
When Okoro’s fortune came, she thought it would erase her scars. Instead, it made new ones. People changed. His relatives changed. Her sister, Ifeoma, changed.
“Emeka!” she called sharply. “Come inside. You’ve been playing since morning. Go and read your books.”
“Mama, please — just five more minutes!”
“No. Enough of this nonsense. Do you think your father suffered just for you to chase a ball around like a street tout? You’ll study law, or medicine — something respectable.”
Emeka dropped the ball, shoulders sagging. In his head, he heard his father’s voice again: “Whatever you love, chase it with your two feet, Emeka.”
But now his father was gone. And Mama’s voice was louder.
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