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On the day of the second anniversary of my mother’s death (after spending the night at the police station), my dad came to our hotel room to spend the day together with his family with Joy’s blessing.

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We started with fresh juice,

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…then went to a little café close to where my father was staying, and had a lovely breakfast.

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We then went for a stroll around the city, where my dad pointed out things we wanted us to do.

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“Staffan, try this. Miriam, you try that. Esther, won’t you try the head massage helmet after Miriam? It’s great!”

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Suddenly, Joy called my dad on the phone and something in him snapped. “I’ll be there in a minute”, he said to her and then walked into the nearest police station, saying his family was harassing him and that he had to go to his girlfriend. We could not understand why Joy would have made plans to see my dad on my mother’s anniversary, which she had said she understood was important to us, but we suggested we meet with her and all talk. My father refused, saying his girlfriend would not allow it, and ran out the back door of the police station.

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What followed was pure confusion. Worried and confused, my brother, sister and I followed him down to the metro below. By the time we got down, my dad was out of sight. Then all of a sudden, he jumped out from behind a pillar and punched my sister in the face, shouting that he would kill her. I ran up beside her and his rage turned to me, a blow hitting me hard in the back of my head.

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I have no picture of my dad running up to meet Joy followed by ten police men and his children, but it must have been quite a sight. But then again, just about every thing about this journey has been so surreal that there are few things left which surprise me.

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Joy tried to talk my father into apologising but as long as he was in rage, he kept saying that he would kill us. There was no “why”. My sister filed a report (but has not pressed charges) and eventually, everything calmed down to normal again. Joy had to go back to her father, who was sick, and the rest of us went out for a late dinner.

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Rage did not reappear and what followed was a very special night. Wanting to celebrate the anniversary of my mother, my father insisted he knew just the place. Which he did!

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Coming from a small fishing community on the West Coast of Sweden, fish and seafood (two things you don’t find in Niger) remained my mother’s culinary favourites.

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Knowing exactly what to order, my dad filled the table with lobster, crab, clams, steemed shrimps and fried octopus - all delicious.

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It was a precious evening, despite the sudden storm. In the end, true love conquers over obsession.