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The Holy Spirit is always right

We arrived at the compound at about fifteen minutes past six to find it exactly the way it was five years ago when I ran out of it into a moving vehicle. Aunt Uka and her husband holding hands were at the door to usher us in; both of them grinning from ear to ear.

Aunt Uka looked different; she was still beautiful but appeared to be shorter and stressed. She wore baggy jean shorts and a black round-necked polo with "Jesus is Lord" written boldly in white on it. Uncle Philip, on the other hand, appeared miserable. His pot-belly had reduced; his hair and beards appeared bushy and unkempt. The large smile on his face failed to make him look handsome. His own black polo appeared to be oversize while he looked tiny in it.

"Nna… welcome" she pulled me in for one of the tightest hugs I have received in my whole life. Her sweet rose perfume filled my nostrils as tears formed in my eyes. Suddenly, I was filled with self-reproach and guilt for abandoning them, especially

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