Baba Sola had just gotten back from the convention, " How could a whole Oba instigate that the people under his jurisdiction be subjected to extra taxing" angrily shoving his agbada into his shoulders as he got out of the car. We could hear his voice even before he entered the house. 

This was how we'd tell if papa had a nice day or the nights were going to be really long. On a good day, Papa would randomly laugh while fixing the key into its hole, trying had to comport himself. Those days we could tell,  Papa really had a lovely day, otherwise, he'd yell the whole house to an halt. 

"Kunle!" "Kunlee!! Are you not in this house?! Oh you want to be mad like the Oba ?? Not in my house !!!.. Kunle!!!!!!!!! " 

Kunle the first born of the four of us was always at the receiving end of Papa's tantrums. Papa tried hard to mould Kunle into an up right political figure but Kunle on the other hand loved music, oh lord! Kunle's love for music was like he was controlled by an higher possessive power. A different person entirely when he hears the sound of good music. It was his way of expressing himself without being scared of whatsoever. Kunle's love for music however claimed his right ear shortly after he graduated from secondary school. 

Always on the radio, blaring without control, so engrossed you'll think he was about having an exam. That's Kunle. 

"Papa ..." Kunle ran forward to greet Papa. He hesitated  moving further, trying to examine Papa's mood. The norm from such reactions were series of slaps swinging loosely from Papa to Kunle's face. But Papa did something different. Papa smashed the hole briefcase on Kunle's face. I'd never seen Kunle so quite and calm he gave Papa a gentle smile and siad ''thank you sir" as soft as ever. SHOCKING. Little did we know what was to come...