CHAPTER ONE

Sometimes he wondered how good God was because his father's death was the most painful thing that ever happened to him. Though he was thirteen when his father died, he still had a vivid memory of what happened.

But now he was a grown-up man, full of responsibilities and it was thirty-three years past his father’s demise. His mother and sister are looking up to him for support. When ten years have passed, and family responsibilities have all been upon his shoulders, he pondered, and a flash of emotions hit him. His daddy meant everything to him since he was also named after him, Vincent Jr.

His father's death left a huge void in the family. His mother, Mary Alijha-Vincent, became accustomed to sorrow. She shed tears of agony more often. Though she was a housewife, she managed to feed the family from her husband's savings. It was supposed to sustain them for only three years. It did. In the third year, his mother found a new man. And they had to relocate from the outskirts of Somalia’s Capital City to the city of Mogadishu. Accommodating a second dad into his life brought so much discomfort, and it did not resonate well with him. They argued for hours about it with the mother. It was the most difficult moment of his life.

One morning his mother knocked and entered his room and set gently on the only chair. The drawer-chair had his clothes spilling off and scattered on the floor.

“Jr…” his mother said softly, her hazel eyes fixed on her firstborn son. He had pulled the blanket over to the waist. A fine hairline ran from the belly button up to the chest. His upper body was muscled and nicely built up.

She dropped her gaze to a pile of books laying on the floor. She continued talking, “Jr, what do you think of Jad?” He rose a bit, supporting his back with the pillow against the wall. He looked at her mom for a moment, eyeball to eyeball. Their calmness always withered the lingering anger between them. He didn’t want to have anything to do with Jad. The family was still economically strong because a certain Good Samaritan had volunteered to help the family financially, they didn't need him. 

“Mom let’s not discuss this...” He paused as he pulled the curtain aside. A flash of sunrays rushed into the room, through the window he saw the “stepfather” playing with his little sister. Ninny was getting on exceptionally well with her stepdad. She seemed to be in desperate need of a father figure to fill the void left by her dad. He watched them play. She was laughing joyously with so much ecstasy in her body.

He then turned and faced his mother and said, “He is a nice man. But I don’t like him.” He turned, giving her mother his back, looking far beyond the garden. Imagining the new face of life, they would be facing. A bitter pill to swallow.

A few months after moving to the city. His mother called him one morning and told him his dad had long bought the house they were currently staying in. He was astonished for a moment, and happiness lit up his face.

All along he thought the house belonged to Jad. His father was very smart, that’s why Jr envied him. They dwelt on a modern townhouse with a balcony, a large living room, dining, and three bedrooms.

“I wonder how my father died. Do you have any clue, mom?” Mary remained silent for a while. She never thought Jr would ask such a question. She avoided eye contact. Held her breath and fought back her emotions. When they received the sad news that Vincent Senior was late, she never cried?

“I am as perplexed as you’re Jr. I don’t know the cause of your father’s death.”

“Mom, the so-called Good Samaritan who keeps on depositing money on daddy’s account, who she”? She then regretted coming into his room.

“Seems your daddy had some undisclosed businesses. They are the ones who keep depositing the money.”

For three days, Jr had a replicating vision. He saw an old man, an Arabic man with a grey and long beard. In the vision, he would sit with him under a tree by the river bank, and every time they parted ways, he would say, “bye-bye my grandson.”