LOGINA young boy maltreated since birth by his stepmother. Born to a busy and ignorant father. Wickedness beyond recognition. Abandoned to survive on his own in the cruel outside world. Repeated outbursts of pain and agony. Having God as the only voice that listens. Patience despite all odds with the conviction that there is light at the end of the tunnel. An interesting and moral-filled book. Enjoy.
View More“Daddy!”,he exclaimed, when he saw his loving father in Kate’s car. Kate came out of the car went towards the trunk and brought out the wheel chair. She helped him into it and rolled him inside. “Omo me!”, ”How are you , my boy”, said Tunde as Wole run up to meet him. “Fine daddy”, said Wole swinging around with smiles imprinted on him. Soon the voice of Kevwe was heard. Kate went in and brought her laying her upon his laps. She looked up at his face at regular intervals while she was playing with his fingers. She was the blue-eyed child of Kate while Wo
At times when, when Kevwe his younger sister was endorsed with new clothing and had her fill of food, Kate left him to stay on his old and becoming ragged clothes. Tunde was more than an average doctor, whose primary profession was to operate in hospitals and clinics. He was sustained in a high rank in the NMA (National Medical Association). He travelled at moderate basis and mostly came back late at night after days away, and as such had little knowledge of what actually happens in his house except the hypocrite-based lies Kate tells him.
After the death of Wole’s mother, Mr. Ajayimore had himself another wife. If not for the sake of love and he wanted more kids, but for Wole. He didn’t want him to lack the motherly love he was not privilege to have as a young child. He was raised up as a catholic ward in St. Theresa’s Orphanage, Warri. He never knew the true affection of a mother. Back in the orphanage, the kids were all equally treated. Though, some more equal than the others. The Catholic Church, in precise; The Bishop of Warri Diocese sponsored and ran the orphanage, including the education of the kids. Even feeding and
Dressed in a plain white plain sleeve covered with a cobalt blue coat over a smart pair of trousers, in the same tone with a set of nicely made cufflinks holding off to his cuffs he was. On his neck was a well knotted polka-dot tie. In total, he was handsomely dressed. It was his 64th year birthday. At 64 years of age, Professor Oluwole Ajayimore looked more youthful than his age foretold of him. He looked at his eye in the mirror. It still bore the scars of a past bruise. He adjusted his glasses. He lifted his eyes to his old but treasured collections on his shelf, he smiled. He took a pic