We moved to the airport residential area the latter part of 1983 during the famine. I was four. Dad woke us up the third night to tell us the news. Thiefs had ransacked our new home. Mom suspected our ‘day watchman’ but Dad, as usual, was slow to pass judgement. They took everything; the cushions, dining chairs, cooking utensils, tv, record player and many others.

I was scared. But, I still liked my new home. It had a much bigger yard for playing; the driveway sloped a little — very ideal for making paper boats whenever it rained heavily. And unlike our flat at Kaneshie, everywhere was green.

We had a hedge of thorns around the entire compound and many palm trees. One mango tree stood behind the boys quarters and another in front of the main building. My favorite, though, was the forget-me-not between the huge christmas tree and the milk bush that lined both sides of the driveway. It was short and so easy to climb making it a perfect hiding place for our usual hide and seek games. Most of the trees were on our side except for the guava tree which was on the Colonel’s side.

The building itself was huge and painted in colonial colors — black and white. Dad’s co-worker, Colonel Agbenaza and his family occupied the other half which was a mirror image of ours. The windows were huge and old-fashioned and there was a sliding door that opened to the verandah.

The house attracted many creatures, perhaps because of the trees. The christmas tree was popular among the bats and crows. Most of the birds built their nests on the neem and mango trees. Still, there were a few that preferred the rooftop of the building. The rooftop birds, I would call them, always deceived me. I knew God lived in Heaven, and I knew Heaven was up above so I wondered whether God lived with birds. Perhaps the rooftop birds were the angels.