Mysterious Ways
THEY were seated awkwardly in the living room of Samson’s modest two-bedroom home. His wife, a good woman and the mother of two of his children, had left him when his drinking got out of hand, but they’d never divorced.
She displayed the sadness of losing someone she knew, the father of her children, but not the sadness of losing a husband, for she’d lost him long before he passed away.
Some would say she left him because of Sofia – a loud, hot-headed young woman in her early thirties – who was Samson’s mistress and mother to his youngest son, but the truth was she and Samson had grown apart long before then.
Sofia was the only one in the room who was standing, chewing bubblegum in the corner like a teenager with an attitude.
Samson’s eldest son, Jomo, who’d followed in
