In Lagos, Akin sat in his mother’s living room, his head in his palms. ‘How could their plans have turned into crap?’ he thought. The gubernatorial elections of Kogi State had been challenged in court. The judge had ruled in favor of the plaintiff. So, John’s uncle, the incumbent had been removed from office. The contract he had awarded John, and Akin by extension, was nixed. Great hopes damned to hell.
Akin looked up. His mother was dressed in a two-piece blue patterned lace with matching shoes and clutch. Her gele was styled high and round in the latest fashion and her makeup perfect.
“Renike has nothing to do with this.”
She didn’t believe his denials for one minute. Folake Pinero prided herself in being a good mother who looked out for her children. From their birth, she had protected them from jealous co-wives in the homes of her three previous husbands. When they’d fallen ill, she’d run from one babalawo to another seeking the cause of their illness and performing the required rituals to make them well. Even now that they were in their marital homes, she had continued to watch over them like a mother hen. A child could never outgrow a mother. She knew, without a doubt that Akin was having problems with his Ibadan witch.
(What happens next? Find out in Renike comes to America)