Painting the Sky

Victor Eromosele was a police sergeant who relied on his salary and shunned bribery. He clung to the idea that a good name is better than riches. The sergeant devoted his life to two paramount objectives. He was determined to make it along the narrow path to heaven and was also determined to sponsor his daughter, Faith, to become a medical doctor.
In those days as a green horn in the Police Force, he and his pregnant wife Ebitimi rode on his newly acquired bicycle to the Specialist Hospital in Benin. The doctor who attended to them was a young lady. Since then he started shaving off any pleasure that involved any spending of money. Stapling the school fees receipts together one term after the other and finally, semester after semester became his most important source of delightful repose.
The pleasure of saving up and promptly paying the school bills was sublime. Every coin or note dropped into the box was a triumph of his filial vision. The pleasure he derived was only secondary to the energy surge every time he worshipped before his Creator. Singing, clapping and dancing before God gave the sergeant fullness of joy.
The journey grew steeper every other year but the end also drew closer. His bicycle has given way to long treks but his monthly family meeting never fails to hold on salary days. The sharing formulae has changed though.
Papa, as he was called by his family, or Sargy, by his neighbours, would bring out the perforated envelope that contained the money and divide the money into two, after subtracting the tithe.
"This is for the future." Papa would always say and hand the money over to Faith Eromosele who would receive it on her knees, as a well brought up daughter should.
"Mother of the house, this money is for survival." Papa would announce and hand it over to Ebitimi, his wife.
"I know it's not enough but all fingers are not equal. There is a difference between people on the express road to hell and those of us on the narrow path to heaven. It profits nothing to gain the world at the cost of our souls. Let us manage the present and the future so that we will not bite our fingers tomorrow."
The last of these meetings was in November. Forty days ago, precisely.
Papa always had to wake up early, rush breakfast, march to work and trudge back at night before having a second meal.
Sergeant Victor Eromosele lived an austere life. His only breaks from the severely measured lifestyle are on Christmas eves and on New Year days. These are the only two nights of every year when he does the extravagant: He paints and brightens, with fire works, the sky over the slum where he lived.
This Christmas, Sargy was not around to paint the sky. Not around for the fees. Just before the Christmas break, a bandit's stray bullet was found buried between his eyes.