Ejike had just lost his father — no, not to the cold hands of death in the usual way. Unfortunately, it was to the hot, reckless hands of sickness. And not a complicated sickness like a heart transplant gone wrong or some rare liver disease. No, it was just malaria. Regular malaria — not the terminal stage, not the kind the doctors give up on. Simple malaria, the type that could be easily prevented and treated with a three-day course of the popular artemether medication. Ejike had been given an ultimatum: either his father or his work. No, scratch that — it wasn't an ultimatum; it was a family decision. Ejike had to go to the city, make money, and send it home. He was the only son; he needed to step into manhood and take responsibility. His parents had ensured he successfully left the village for Onitsha in Anambra State and were relieved when they heard he had gotten a job — well, more like an apprenticeship, learning on the job. The pay was good, though not abundant. At least i...