Sunday night blues

The Tiv, who live in the central Benue Valley of Nigeria, have a name for God: Aondo, which means "heaven," but they don't care much for him because they say he doesn't care much for them. According to them, Aondo created the earth and everything in it, including the forces of evil. Then he moved away. The Tiv do not ask where Aondo went.

Abel had known my father. I asked him a lot of questions that he couldn't answer. Did he love me? “I don't know”. Did he love my mother? “I don't know”. Did he love someone? “I do not know”. Where is he? “I do not know”. Is he really dead? “It doesn't matter," he replied.

One Sunday evening, Abel had walked into the office where my father used to work. He found him stretched out on the floor with an empty whiskey bottle in his hand, drunk. Abel rushed to pick him up, and with all his strength, lifted him onto a couch. He stayed there, looking with pity at this big alcoholic body, snoring on his stomach. He watched over him until late at night, when my father woke up.

At first he was furious with me for catching him in such a state of decay. He said to me, "Damn you". But after this brief outburst of anger, he broke down in tears. So I held his fat head in my arms until your father stopped crying. Soothed, I felt his body relax, and just before he went back to sleep peacefully, he mumbled, "Oh God, I think I have really fucked up". Your father spoke once. I heard him twice.