Chikodili Emelumadu

Her mother wore the latest cloth in the market and held her head high, for her daughter was young—had just finished university, in fact—and was doing strong things. Her father bought himself an ozo title; one could hear him laughing kwa-kwa-kwa as he sat with his friends on the veranda of his new house, drinking palm wine and eating bush meat, flicking flies with his horsetail whisk. Yes-men and boy-boys would sing his praise names from the compound below and he would get up to spray naira notes on them like manna. Life was good.

—From "Story, Story: A Tale of Mothers and Daughters"