I was born in a land where all is black. I saw mother's skin at first and I think it was the most beautiful colour I had ever seen, black. I grew older and one day I looked at the mirror, I was awed by my appearance, what a beautiful sight! I soon got to walk the streets of Ninghali, I looked at sons of the soil, black braided hair that shines bright under the African sun. I finally got to see the other part of the world, where my colour was looked down upon. To them, we were darkness and have no form of beauty. Then my self esteem started to drop, I became unhappy with myself for I thought I was darkness. I walked the streets empty and feeling worthless but my skin burned in the yellow sun. I began to smile again for I saw my worth. I love black! I love me! I love Africa! Now here's a question, do you love you?
There's something about Ahamefuna that disturbs my spirit. He came home from work like every other day, tired but excited to see his family. He put up a long grin that almost looks fake, holding a bag of groceries I had asked for earlier in the day. The atmosphere changed with his presence, the feeling of dear gripped me tightly but I remained calm anyways. I kept asking how his day went and he kept ignoring the question like he didn't hear what I said. I kept looking at him, looking for traces of anything that would confirm my fears... He kept starring at me like he had a thousand words to say but was held back by a border. I could see him from the side of my eyes as I cut vegetables for dinner. I couldn't place my hands on this mystery but it felt like he was aloof. He offered to cook dinner with me and even put the kids to bed. My husband is the sweetest man I ever know but he associates cooking with the female gender, I didn't mind because I love cooking. He spent
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