My Mum wasn't  going to let me go, not until I promised her that I would always be a good boy, never join bad gangs, and never smoke.
My name is Okira, Okira James, first son of deceased Matthew James and Mrs Cecilia James, heir to a dulling akara business, and yes one and only child.
I don't know how to write this and still stop the flow of tears from my eyes, My Mum didn't have much, which much, she didn't have anything.
I left my mother that day, I was on my way to Yabatech, Lagos.  Like as if I was a crying machine I was crying on the bus, even the babe besides me felt pity.
"Hi why are you crying now?"
Na so my eyes clear, "hmmmmn hmmmmn" I hardened my face, " I am not crying "
If you see laughter for the bus, that was when I realised that I was in the front seat row.
"Bros,  na all of us know sey  you dey cry,why you kon dey form?" A woman shouted.

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