Paul Nwokocha - Ancient Of Days Review

He told himself it was stress. The burden of ministry. The sleepless nights on planes to Toronto, Johannesburg, Dubai.

His mother, Beatrice, had fallen asleep while braiding his hair. The comb slipped from her fingers, and her hand went cold. In the village of Umueze, the women wailed and the men shook their heads. Malaria, they said. The rainy season’s curse.

But deep down, Paul Nwokocha knew the truth.

But he also knew the cost.