it was a Sunday morning. The rain was falling idemudia raised his head on his hands and looked out the through the window he was so disgusted by what he saw that he fell back on their eight spring iron bed with a groan
open the so we can hear what time it is
he and his wife , Adisa,were tenant in one of the low mud but zinced houses along owode street . Adisa who had been sweeping the badly cemented floor of the room dropped the broom and stretched her hand across the table which stood against the window the window screeches on its hinges as it went wider. Adisa bent down to pick the broom , then resume her sweeping. The broom was so short that she had to stoop substantially to sweep clean.
Soon, the notes of a radiogram sounding the hour came through the window from a neighborhooding building. idemudia listened intently untill the voice said the time is now ten o clock
But he didn't get up from the bed placing his hands behind his head and staring at the roof. he listened intently to the church songs coming from the radio
They were hymns about bloody calvary, about the heaviness of the cross, about the strength of the spirit and the weakness of the flesh.
Adisa continued to sweep while the skies continued to weep.
outside , the flood built up steadily and gradually owode street like it father, Ekenwan road, was always over flooded any time the rain fell. Two days before, two houses had collapsed on the street. a small child had been trapped in one of the building under the fallen mud houses . Fortunately, rescuers, including idemudia, had dug the child out in time . For the people who lived in the mud houses on owode street there was now another major preoccupation which house would be next to fall
idemudia shook himself free of this thought. if his house fel he had nothing to lose , then he knelt down to pray.
you should be praying in the church Adisa hissed
I am hungry. I want something to eat . he fell back on the bed idemudia said
I really want to bring you money so badly