During the winter of that year, I was trapped on an island that was surrounded with wildflowers. I felt a sudden unpleasant urge to turn back the time and begin it all over again. If only I was satisfied with the way things were, I would be curled up in my cushion chair made from goat skin, the one I received from Papa. It was the beginning of the year, I received a call from Secretary Kim in New Zealand, and she told me of how I could quench my desire of touring round the world from the letter I submitted to their mail last September. I grabbed the opportunity without a second thought. I was given a free Visa and a tourist guide, Mr. Patrick whom I would be meeting in Abuja. The thought of traveling to Abuja alone makes me want to throw my feet to the sky. We had travelled through the African continent and now we are touring Asia after which we had planned to tour North America. It was quite a pleasant journey, it was my first time flying in a plane and it felt like a dream come true. I met Matthew an American photographer who came to Africa for wildlife observation, he was holding a catholic rosary which he claimed guide him through all sort of misfortune. Well, I find that irksome. We had a little conversation and I shared with him the poem of Mama, the one she wrote when she was eighteen. Matthew seem impressed and suddenly the plane started rattling, I could hear people cry behind me, the experience gave me chills and I fainted. When I opened my eyes I met myself on an island that leads to nowhere.
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