Elder Obi's Wisdom

The afternoon sun, usually a warm embrace on my skin, felt a little less comforting as I walked towards Elder Obi’s compound. My heart thumped a nervous rhythm against my ribs, a familiar drumbeat whenever I thought about Chika. Her small, bruised face, the way she flinched at loud noises, the hollowness in her eyes – it all played on repeat in my mind. I knew I had to do something, anything, to help her, and Elder Obi, with his gentle eyes and words that always seemed to smooth out the rough edges of the world, was the only one I could think of.

His compound was a haven of peace. The air smelled of damp earth and blooming jasmine, a sweet perfume that always made me feel a little lighter. Elder Obi sat on a low stool under the shade of a mango tree, his hands gnarled like ancient roots resting on his knees. He looked up as I approached, his face breaking into a smile that crinkled the corners of his eyes.

“Emefiona, my child,” he said, his voice a low rumble like distant thunder. “Come, sit with me.”