“Why do you think your village people have moved in with you?”

“For obvious reasons. My bed feels heavier and I can’t sleep wide like I used to. Someone is spiritually sharing my space with me.”

“That’s not…”

I start to scribble something in my notepad.

“What are you writing, Boma?”

I raise a hand and finish. When I am done, I hand her the list. There’s a puzzled look on her fine face.

Anointing oil, local sponge, black soap and china white…”

“I even forgot palm oil and yam sef.”

“What the…”

“I am going for spiritual cleansing.”

I am out of the door before she can blink. And right now, as I drive all the way to a beach on the outskirts, all I can think of is my spiritual cleansing.

Since I never last on any job, let’s play this like a movie. A real movie.

Title: Disgracing Bomaventure; The Grammy Edition.

Genre: Comedy (if you do not possess a heart or have the ability to use one), Tragedy (if you can feel)

Year of production: 2017 (but since I attract embarrassment like magnet) – whenever.

Fade In:

A Week Before


Madness and I are sharing a calabash of palmwine when he walks up to us.

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