That day, my death sentence had been passed. It was Sunday, while my parents were occupied with church preparations. I slipped out of their sight and went outside. I don't know what I thought but I managed to get myself up the pile of bricks that had been packed on the compound. I was very excited when I stood high on what I thought was fun. From no where my uncle rushed to me and carried me off the bricks, I resisted because I wanted to jump off it by myself. Immediately he placed me down the whole pile of bricks came crashing down before my feet. My parents were alarmed by the noise made by the bricks and rushed outside. My mom then carried me in after rebuking me.
I was dressed up and seated in the hall. I seated there and waited patiently for my parents to get ready. Again, I took my mom's bag which I usually carried on our way to church, and left. I walked alone all the way to the taxi station where we normally boarded a church bus. A family friend who sold food at the station called me, upon realizing that I was alone. She then took me home. My parents were shocked and wondered how I got to the station. They thought I was with my uncle all along. Although they did nothing to me I knew they were really mad at me.
We came back really tired after along day at church. My mom had prepared "fufu" and groundnut soup (a local dish) the previous day and had to heat it before consumption. The soup had been played on a ground-level electric stove by the sink. While my parents were outside, I took a tin of milk and stood on in order to wash my hands in the sink. While I was closing the tap, I lost balance, the tin slipped and I fell. I succeeded in braking the fall with my hands, but unfortunately my right hand landed right in the soup which was now boiling. I really don't know why, but I couldn't take my hand from the soup so I screamed louder. And there came my mom, she carried me and raised my hand thoroughly with cold water. The...