Kerete sat on the low wooden stool, chopping vegetables on a tray that he balanced on his laps. The knife went chop-chop; he had to be fast or when his madam came into the kitchen, she would yank his ears and give him a blow on the back.

Tried as much he could to concentrate, his mind kept replaying the phone conversation he’d had with his sister the day before.

“Brother Kerete,” Aniema’s voice had sounded frantic and teary, “doctor say if we no do the operation fast fast for Mama say she go die. Abeg, brohda send us some money.”

Kerete had never felt so helpless as he did when he talked with his sister. He wanted to blurt out the painful reality; that he had no money, that the highest amount of money he had ever received from his boss was a fifty naira note and that was to buy beans for his breakfast.

Instead, he said, “No worry, I go soon send money to una... http://syncityng.com/2018/06/29/the-houseboy-a-short-story-by-tosan-tarre/