Mr. Nwankpa picked up the handkerchief, removed his reading glass, and wiped the sweat from his face, armpits, and chest before replacing it. He was resting under the mango tree in front of his compound, a copy of the Sun newspaper lying across his lap. All around him, the sun blazed and baked everything in sight. His white singlet, wet with sweat, clung onto his body like a second skin.  His phone rang and he reached for it.On seeing the caller ID, his face brightened and a tiny smile stretchedroundthe skin around hismouth. He opened the message and read quickly, his smile widening. “I know that girl will make me proud one day,” he muttered andshook his head. “I just know it.” “Who are you talking with?” his wife, who had crept in unannounced with a plate of pawpaw, asked. “Maya’s second semester result just came in.” “It must be good from the look on your face.” He beamed. “See for yourself.” She took the phone and perused the message. “4 As, 5 Bs and a D. This is not a bad result if you ask me.” “Yeah, but how can a student who scored As and Bs in all the subject score an abysmal D in a departmental course?” “I am surprised too. Maybe, she…,” she broke off. She did not know what to say. “She’ll improve. No need to worry.” “I’m not worried. I’m just concerned.” “Glad I caught you at home,” a familiar voice said. He looked up and saw Mazi Onu and his son, Kevin coming into the compound. “My brother,” Mr. Nwankpa stood to his feet to welcome them, his eyes alive with excitement. “It’s good to see you again.” “Welcome, Nna anyi,” Mrs. Nwankpa prostrated. “Good afternoon, uncle, good afternoon, Ma,” Kevin greeted, bowing. “Afternoon, Kevin. How do you do?” “I’m good, uncle.” “No one told me you are in town.” “Yes,” Mazi Onu interrupted. “He came in last night with some good news and that is why we have come to see you.” “Please, sit down. What can I offer you?” “Oh, nothing,” he declined. He turned to Kevin. “Young man, what about you. Should I offer you beer?” “No, thanks, uncle. I’m okay.” “Okay, have some pawpaw. My wife just brought it now.” “No, thank you, Uncle.” He picked up a slice. “Well. If you say so.” Mazi Onu cleared his voice. “Kevin tells me he is now a man.” Mr. Nwankpa bite into the pawpaw and waited. The fresh juicy fruit filled his mouth and nearly spilled over. “He brought good news home last night.” He nodded. “Is he getting married?” Mazi Onu shook his head and laughed loudly. “No, no, no. He wants to start his building.” “Oh, that’s good news.” “I’m glad you think so.” Kevin prostrated. “Thank you, uncle.” “That has always been my prayer that our young men should be blessed so they can come back and develop the village. You can count on me.” Mazi Onu cleared his voice again. “You know, I was thinking if you would let him use a part of our land near the expressway.” He sat up and his eyes assumed anuntamed meanness. “Why should I give him a land bequeathed to me by our father?” “Let’s be reasonable, my brother,” he coughed. “What are you going to do with that land?” “It is none of your business what I do with it. It is mine and that’s it.” “I know, but that’s not the point. “So, what is the point?” “The point is that I don’t see you using the land.” He cocked his head. “I don’t understand.” “Listen, my brother, you know what our culture says. “Our culture says the land belongs to me. You have your own portion, if Kevin wants a land to build, you should give him a portion of yours.” He tried a conciliatory approach. “Let’s not fight over this, my brother. It’s just that I thought Kevin should develop it, instead of itfalling into the hand of another family.” “I hope you have not come to my house to insult me?” “Uncle, it is not so,” Kevin said. “It’s … It’s just that …” “That what? That you want to take my land because I have no son?” “Calm down, my brother.” He stood to his feet. “Don’t tell me to calm down. Just get out of my house now.” “Uncle, please. It hasn’t gotten to that,” Kevin pleaded. “Are you asking me out of your house?” “Get out. Now.” “I will get out, but I will come back. You can count on that,” he turned to Kevin and jerked his head. “Let’s go.” “Imagine the rubbish,” Mrs. Nwankpa snorted as soon as they left. “So, your brother came to our house to insult us because we don’t have male children?” “He is a big fool. Just imagine the effrontery.” “As if his useless sons are better than our daughters. What is Kevin doing in the city? Is it not drug peddling and criminality? Do they think people don’t know?” His phone rang. It was Maya. He answered the call. “Hi daddy,” she said across the line. “Maya, how are you?” “I’m good, daddy. Did you see my message?” “Yes, I did. That was a beautiful result. Keep it up.” “Thank you, daddy.” “I’m not impressed with your departmental result. What happened?” “Em… em,” she stuttered. She wanted to tell him about her lecturer’s sexual overtures, but she thought against it. Knowing her dad too well, he would pursue it to a logical conclusion. Instead, she said. “I know, daddy. I will work harder.” “That’s alright, my girl. How is school? Hope all is well?” “Yes, we are having an excursion next week.” “And how much is that?” “It’s N3,000.” “That is okay. I will make some money available to you before the end of the week.” “Oh, thank you, Daddy.” “Do not mention. Remember to put God first always.” “Okay, Dad. Bye.”