She had just returned from school, alighting from a lorry returning to Kuti town from Igaolu village where her school was located. She observed there was crowd in front of her home. Iya Toun, her father’s aunt, used to sell akara then, and Yetunde thought there were many customers on that very day. She grew confused when she saw that there was no akara on the counter, and those people seemed to be their ‘face-me-I-face-you’ neigbours and those from the next house; they stood, huddling together in silence.
Some people seemed to be sitting with heads drooped like a withered plant beside Iya Toun whose face had already turned rivers of tears.
Some of the neigbours started shaking their heads as they sighted the little Yetunde whose charming face was covered in fear. She forced her way to where Iya Toun was sitting at the verandah and asked what the matter was.
