‘Is the AC too cold ma?’ Uncle Peter asks. I’ve told him over and over that there’s no need to call me ‘ma’ but he still does, the same way he did when I was eight. I think he thinks it’s a sign of respect. I think it makes me seem older than I’d like. It reminds me of the looming 23 in two months. Another unemployed Nigeria ’lazy youth’according to Daddy. That’s why he’s shipping me to London for my masters, to give me an ‘edge’ over my competitors. Mummy just prays I’ll find a young rich husband that’ll be able to take care of me the way Dad does her. I’m not sure what I want, never have, never need to. Maybe I’ll find it in London.
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