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Think about that[/caption]
In the year 2000, my uncle died. I was 10 years old and I did not (and still do not) know what death all meant. I remember I was deeply unhappy and all I could do was join everyone around me in tears. He was my mother’s youngest brother. She still misses him. Once, we had watched a really frightful Nigerian movie and I was particularly scared of a character called ‘Andy’. My uncle would send me to ‘go get him something’ in the room, and when I had gone far enough, he would howl hoarsly: “Aaaaandyyyy’. I would scream and come running towards him. I have some pictures with him. I don’t remember his voice anymore. I remember he loved me very much.