Aunt Lola traveled through the desert to Libya.



(Continued from the previous part)





One Monday morning, when Aunt Lola was preparing to go out to sell, she took Kim along and both of them had to jump on a moving bus to their destination. At their destination, Kim was given a bowl filled with chilled satchel water to sell. Her aunt carried another bowl filled with bottle soft drinks.

“Follow me” her aunt said as they walked into the middle of the congested road, vehicles moving on either side of them. Kim’s heart was beating madly for fear of being crushed the reckless Lagos drivers.



“Buy mineral, buy coke!” her aunt hollered, shoving the drinks through the half opened windows as some drivers and pedestrians bought her wares. “Rose, don’t just stand there like a statue, move and sell those things or do you want to drink everything by yourself?” her aunt shouted at her and Rose began moving, dodging the reckless cars and barely selling anything in the process because she reaches a car, it would have moved on and another one would be in its place.

She was aching all over when she got home that night. As if that was not enough, her aunt was mad at her for not selling enough.

“I don’t know her problem” she had heard her aunt complaining bitterly to her husband who was too drunk to understand anything she was saying. “She just stood right there in the middle of the road like a stupid dummy all day without selling a satchel of water. Where does she expect me to find money to feed and clothe her?”

Her husband said nothing. He barely says anything when he is in his cups, at least, nothing sensible except curses and ridicules. That night, Kim had slept fitfully, tossing on the floor where she slept.

Early the following morning, she was up again to fetch water from a public borehole far away from their house. By 7AM, she was done fetching water and her aunt was done cooking, so they had a rushed breakfast and set out to sell again.



For the next six months, Aunt Lola said nothing about Kim’s return back to school but she never failed to take her along to the highway to sell each day, neither did she fail to nag and complain bitterly whenever she did something wrong. Each time she brought up the topic, her aunt always feigned boredom or pretended not to hear at all.



One Tuesday morning, they were on the highway as usual, this time, they were selling boiled corn in their husks. Selling corn was more tasking than selling other miscellaneous goods, Kim found out because by 5AM that morning they’d left home to Oshodi where they bought the fresh corn from the farmers who brought them to Lagos then they’d gone to the highway, cooked it and started selling it. It was a arduous task and one that Kim found extremely irritating. Most buyers would want to sample the corn before buying it. Of course, most people who tasted it would not buy eventually and the gaps that the missing grains left could never be fixed and no one would buy a corn that has been eaten. Aunt Lola didn’t make it any easy for her either. She had once told her to use the leftover corn as breakfast. That was the previous week.



“Kim, I want to see you” her aunt said suddenly from behind and Kim had to swallow several times. Whenever her aunt says that, she knew that something bad had happened and that she, Kim had done the bad thing and was about to be chastised. Mercifully, her aunt had not started physically hitting her yet but sometimes when she was in one of her rages, she would throw whatever she found at that moment at Kim. Kim shuddered whenever she thinks of her aunt deciding to throw a knife at her in one of her rages.

So by 11AM, the traffic reduced and it was a perfect time for talk. Kim was taken aside by her aunt under the big umbrella that served as their shop, her hands tightly balled into fists, waiting and expecting the blame and accusation for whatever she had done wrong.

“I am travelling” her aunt said without preamble. Kim almost shouted for joy but she checked herself and pretended as if she was pained to learn that aunt was travelling. “You are happy, right, don’t deny it, I can see it in your eyes that you are happy. Anyways, I am travelling and I don’t know when I am coming back”

“Ah, to where?” Kim asked, she was really surprised this time. She thought that the travelling was just for some days, a week or two weeks at most, but travelling indefinitely was beyond her imagination and expectation.

“Where I am going shouldn’t concern you much for now” her aunt said. “I just want you to know that I am travelling out of this country. Nothing works here, look at me, working from dawn till dusk, yet I have nothing to show for it. I wish I could take you along but I can’t and I am so sorry about that because no matter how bad you are, you are still my family and my blood but I can only take my daughter along on this journey. When we get there and settle down, then we will send for you but until then, you have to stay back here in Nigeria…..”

“Who will I stay with here?” Kim asked, knowing and dreading her aunt’s response

“My husband of course. The fact that he drinks and is rarely sober doesn’t mean that he is a bad person…”

“Nnnnever” Kim said.

“You listen to me this brat, you will do what I tell you and you dare not disobey me. You are still a child…”

“I am FOURTEEN, almost a adult grown”

“Till you are twenty, you are still a child and you will be obedient like one otherwise you won’t like what I’ll do to you. I know why you don’t want to stay with my husband, you want to run back to live with those rich people so that you could put our family in shame that we cannot take care of ourselves….”



“Can we?” she retorted indignantly. She was burning with anger for all those times that aunt Lola had lied to her. Kim was mad at her for topping her education when she could have finished secondary school and start thinking of going to a college or a university. She wished she could hit her aunt to let her know how mad she was with her and she would hit her if she had made an effort to beat her as she spoke rudely to her. Kim knew it was bad to be rude to an elderly person but she couldn’t keep the anger and disappointment out of her voice and expression. It dawned on her then that while she and her aunt had been slaving inside the rain and merciless sun day and night; she was never for once part of her aunt’s plan for a better future. She was too angry to cry or utter a word but the hatred her aunt saw on my face was enough to let her know that she might be young but she was not too naïve or stupid to know that she had cheated her. For two years since she left the Smiths, she has served her faithfully even when it was most inconvenient for her.



That night, Kim knew where she was travelling to. Her aunt didn’t tell her directly, she told her husband when she thought that Kim was sleeping and dead to the world. As usual, her husband was too drunk to fully grasp the gravity of what her aunt was telling him. Instead of listening to her, he was complaining about someone who cheated him at work and how he needed money badly to do some ‘very important things’. Her uncle always has an important thing to do and he was always short of money and if her aunt refuses to give him, he would take her money by force until she was forced to safe whatever little amount of money she makes in a day in the bank. When hers uncle asked her aunt if he could get some change from her and she said she had none, he blew over his top and began calling her names and threatening to divorce her if she didn’t cooperate.



When Kim first arrived at their home, she always wondered why her aunt always subscribed to the threat. To be sincere, Uncle Sam was a liability. He contributed nothing meaningful at home except beating and curses that he spared no one. So she always wondered why her aunt always gave him money whenever he threatened to divorce her but on that particular night, she understood the reason perfectly.



Her aunt was in her forties and she was rather big with a belly that contains many folds that always move whenever she walks. Besides, she was so dark and masculine whereas Uncle Sam was still in his early thirties, he good looking with an athletic body that was the envy of all the single ladies in their neigbourhood. Her aunt was a sharp contrast with Kim’s mother whom everyone says Kim resembled. Her mum was soft and delicate in a feminine way and there was a beauty to her that looked ethereal. People always assume that they were rich even when they were starving.

Uncle Sam threatened again but this time, her aunt laughed in derision.

“Yeah, you can go ahead and impregnate all the ladies and married women in this neighbourhood, I don’t care anymore. I am going away to create a life for me and my daughter. Away from you and all the problems of this country, I am going to a better place”

“Where is this place that you are yabbing about since?”

“Libya” she said quietly. As she said it, she glanced over at Kim where she was sleeping on the floor, to make sure that she didn’t hear her. Kim closed my eyes and pretended to be snoring.

“Libya, are you out of your mind? What are you thinking? Didn’t you listen to the news? What about hundreds of Nigerians that were departed from Libya who were free from forced prostitution? I don’t blame you; the problem is that you don’t listen to the news….”

“If you think you can dissuade me from going from all these talks you are mistaken, I won’t change my mind…”

“I don’t care if you changed your mind or not but do not take my daughter on this suicide mission”

“Oh, she is more my child than yours. What responsibility have you taken since she was born? How many cloths have you bought for her? Have you ever given her anything?”

“What about your niece, where will you put her?”

“She will stay here with you of course or are you too poor to feed her?” she asked in derision. She hissed and that was where it ended that night



For days neither of them spoke about it. It was a week later before the matter was raised again in the family. By then, it was evident that Aunt Lola was fully committed to the cause and was not ready to entertain any contradictory opinion about the journey. The last night at home together, Aunt Lola was on the phone, speaking with the agent who seemed to be the only one that she trusted enough to speak with regarding her travelling. From the conversation, Kim learnt that the agent had secured visas for her and her daughter and that they would travel through the desert to reach Libya. She also learnt that they would only stay in Libya for some months before they travel through the Atlantic Ocean to Spain and finally United Kingdom. The whole travelling was estimated to take about one and half years before she finally settles down in the United Kingdom.



The following day, Kim approached her and tried for the last time persuades her from the suicide mission but her aunt was not even listening. Her aunt and her daughter by 12 noon. Dawn and her uncle saw her to the bus stop where she boarded bus to the airport. When Dawn and her step uncle got back home, the once crowded room was almost empty and there was a forlorn, nostalgic feeling that pervaded the emptiness.

Kim stood in the middle of the room, gazing with nostalgia at the place where her aunt’s and cousin’s bags used to be. She sat on the bed and held her head in her palms. She didn’t know when she started sobbing.



After her aunt’s departure, Kim and her uncle rarely talked except on some occasions. Her uncle was not a great talker even if she talked, he rarely replied except to grunt a reply or pretend he didn’t hear her. Soon, she stopped trying. In order to survive, she had to keep doing her aunt’s business because her aunt left her nothing except few bags of satchel water. The following day after her aunt left, she had left home the usual time and went to the main road to sell the water.



She got home that evening, hungry and tired, but she had to prepare the supper for her uncle. When she got home, he was not around, so she waited few minutes for him to come but when he didn’t come back after thirty minutes, she went down the streets to buy a satchel of spaghetti and began cooking. Her uncle met her few minutes later. She tried to apologize to him that she got home late because she was unable to sell all the bags she took to the road but he was not listening, he was busy threatening her that the next time he comes home without meeting food would be a day she would never forget. He didn’t mention the fact that he had not given her money in the first place to prepare any food but Dawn didn’t want to bring up this issue while he was still angry, it would only worsen the situation.


( to be continued)

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Kim grieves after Maxwell's death.



“Chinwe, Chinwe, Chinwe!”

“So you cannot even draw those simple shapes, yet you were there at the back, talking?!” Mrs. Grace asked angrily. “I’ll teach you a lesson. Your turn, Kim, draw those shapes”

Kim collected the chalk and drew the shapes with flourish.

After that day, Kim and Chinwe became close friends. Kim learnt over time that Chinwe had come from a broken home with five children, all of whom were dropouts. Chinwe and her siblings were being raised by her mother alone who hardly had time to devote to her children.

“Don’t worry, I will help you as much as I can” Kim said after listening to Chinwe’s story.

During break periods, Kim devoted her time to teaching Chinwe what they had been taught earlier in the class. Although it was harder than Kim had anticipated, Chinwe knew nothing, yet Kim was patient in teaching her and she was gradually picking up.



The duo studied at every available opportunity, this closeness was mocked in their class and in the school generally by some notorious students, Frank was the chief among them. He soon dubbed the FF. Initially, both Kim and Chinwe didn’t know what it meant until Chinwe mistakenly stepped on a classmate one day and the classmate shouted at her “Freaky freak!” Chinwe was in tears till the school closed that day despite Kim’s reassuring words.



At the end of the term, Kim came first in the class of twenty two pupils with a margin that was too wide to be bridged. Mrs. Grace was not happy with this but she had no choice than to accept the fact that Kim could have an annoying medical condition, yet she was not a dullard. Chinwe on the other hand took the eighteenth position; this seemed to inflate Mrs. Grace anger all the more.

“Why is she angry this much at us?” Kim asked Chinwe as Mrs. Grace stood in front of the class one Monday morning, reading out the results of each pupil for the term. Then there was only a couple of weeks left before vacation.



“She is angry because you topped the class despite the fact that you are not part of her favourite students. Also, I came eighteenth, that’s new and strange. I was always last before this term.” Chinwe told Kim.



Kim,

December 1996.

Seasons changed and Kim came to her first year as a teenager. By then, she was already in SS1, two classes behind Angela but both of them grew up together as teenagers and best friends. Kim’s condition neither improved nor worsened, yet she became the favourite of everyone who knew her.

At age thirteen, Angela was already preparing for her senior WAEC. She was considered the most brilliant of the children in the house because she got to SS3 at the age of twelve. Maxwell had been there at sixteen, Rose at 15, John at 14 and now Angela had broken the record. Kim worked twice harder at school in order to catch up with Angela but both of them knew that that was impossible because she started schooling vey late; nevertheless, Angela often encouraged her.



One Saturday afternoon, after the family came back from shopping, Rose who was then in her final year at Obafemi Awolowo University was at home for a semester’s break, John too who was at 200 level at University of Ibadan was at home for a weekend so the house was unusually full that weekend. After the shopping, the girls and Mrs. Smith were in the kitchen preparing dinner when the phone rang.



Typically, the family land phone rarely rings because every member of the house (including Kim) has his or her mobile phone, so whenever the land phone rings, the call is most likely from outside the country and the call is either meant for Mr. or Mrs. Smith or both of them. When it rang, Kim was the only one in the living room, en route to the dining room to pick something that Mrs. Smith asked her to pick. Mr. Smith and John were outside at the basketball court, facing off each other and seeing who would first shot the basketball through the net twenty times and making an unbearable noise in the process. In the kitchen, Rose was gisting her mother and Angela -who listened with rapt attention and hung on her every word as if her life depended on it- about the social activities that she was involved in on campus. Kim herself was equally interested in the narration and was sorry to miss any part of it but she couldn’t just refuse to go where Mrs. Smith sent her.



For long moments, she didn’t know what to do about the ringing phone. She debated calling Mr. Smith from the pitch to come in and pick the call but she knew from experience that he wouldn’t leave the court till he was satisfied so she pushed the thought aside. She thought of calling Mrs. Smith from the kitchen but decided against it, so she picked the call and told the caller from the other end to hold on for either Mr. or Mrs. Smith then she rushed to the kitchen to summon Mrs. Smith.

“It is an international call ma” she said when she got back to the kitchen

“Oh, is the caller on hold and did he or she mention his or her name?”

“She said she is calling from the US embassy”

“Alright, take it from here Rose, let attend to the call in the living room. Maybe it is meant for your father but nothing can pull him away from that game he is playing now. I guess he was a professional basketballer in his first life” she said as she walked out and the children laughed. After she’d gone, Rose resumed her gist for her audience.



Suddenly, a high pitched noise echoed from the living room, breaking into their discussion and making their hearts to jump to their mouths. One after the other, they rushed to the living room to find out what was wrong. In the living room, Mrs. Smith stood still at the corner where the land phone was located with the receiver clutched tightly in her hand. Though she was staring at them as they rushed in but she was not seeing them. She opened her mouth several times to talk but nothing came out. Rose grabbed her shoulder and shook her vigorously “Mom, what’s wrong?!” she asked, alarmed and on the verge of breaking down. The receiver slipped from Mrs. Smith’s hands and bounced several times on the tiled floor before it stopped moving. Already, Angela had run out to bring their dad in.



Mrs. Smith slipped lifeless to the floor as if life had gone out of her. Rose and Kim got hold of her before she could hit the floor so they pulled her to the nearest sofa and started resuscitating her. That was when Mr. Smith came in with John and Angela on tow.



Gone.

It was later that they all knew what had befallen them. The US embassy had called to tell them that a message had been sent from the apartment where Maxwell lived in the US that Maxwell was sick and had been taken to the hospital earlier that day. A couple of hours later, the embassy had been called again that he had passed on. It was the news that Mrs. Smith received in the living room.



Kim loved everyone in the Smiths’ family but loved Maxwell especially. He was the big brother she never had. He was the first person that accepted in the family when she was first into the house five years back. When the other members of the house had been cold and unfriendly, he had treated her with compassion and love. Even after everyone else and accepted and took her as part of them, there were times that she felt out of place and neglected but if Maxwell was there, he would include her in whatever the family was doing and make her feel belonged. She didn’t know her birthday but he had told her how to go about it.



“See, it doesn’t really matter which day you were born. All days are same. If you don’t know your real birthday, don’t worry about it, it does not determine how far in life you will go. Just pick your favourite day and month and year and make it your birthday. If anyone asks you tell him or her that is your birthday and nobody will doubt you as long as the date never changes. In fact, you are more privileged than people who know their real birthdays; they never have the choice of the day they were born, they have to accept it even if it was a bad day. Did you get that?” He had asked and she had nodded her head in response to that question with smiles. That was two days after she got into the house. “Now which day and month are your favourite?”

“12th December” Kim had replied without hesitation

“Beautiful, it has a very nice ring to it. Congratulations Kim that is it. Mind you, never tell anyone you made it up. Nobody will help you remember your true birthday, worse, they will end up giving ugly date and I know you don’t want that or do you?”



All that was three years ago and Kim was a nine year old girl that was filled with grief over the death of her mother who was her only lifeline to survival and existence. But that seemed like a lifetime away. All these memories rushed back as the family sat on the front pulpit in church a week later in mourning cloths as they held the funeral service for Maxwell. Though the service was held two weeks after his demise, yet the grief was fresh and raw like a bunch of flowers picked that morning.

Kim couldn’t stop crying whenever she remembered the special moments she had spent with him. She couldn’t make up her mind if she felt more heartbroken when her mum died or now but she was so heartbroken that she felt that she would never get over his death. After the funeral, the family returned to their mansion on the island, followed by their friends and families. When they got back home, Kim went to her room to mourn him alone. She was in no mood for talking so she firmly closed her door after her and flung herself on the bed, wishing she could cry but no tears came but the grief was palpable.



She sat up on the bed and retrieved her diary from under her pillow where she had shoved it the night before. She opened to the last page, and read the last few things that she had written about him and this brought tears to her eyes and she let them fall without restriction. She took the pen and continued writing her pain, loss and grief over his demise.https:///2Jlg1xT

(To Be Continued)

(Continued from the previous part)



Kim lived happily with the Smiths.





Mr. Smith told them the story and by the time he finished, the Isholas were almost moved to compassion for the ‘poor little thing’ as Mrs. Ishola put it.

“Smith, you have done the right thing. Honestly. But, I think you have involved yourself too much. Instead of taking her into your house just like that, you should have taken her to the police; they will know how to find her family and you will be free!”

“That’s true” Mrs. Ishola conceded. “Besides, her medical condition makes things worse. There is no school that will accept her with those noises she makes at ten seconds intervals”

“I did take her to a police station after her mother’s burial and wrote a report of how she came into my possession for security reasons. After my report, I told the policemen on duty that I would leave her with them but they refused. They all said that I should go with her and fix her up till they conduct their investigations and find her surviving relatives. But since then, that was three weeks ago, they have not gotten back to me”

“Can we see the girl?” Mr. Ishola asked and Mr. Smith told Maxwell to bring Kim to the visitors. When Kim was brought to face the visitors, she lowered her head in shame and coward behind Maxwell. She had heard most of the conversations about her and it filled her with dread. After saying a ticky hello to the visitors, she was permitted to return to the guest’s room. After she’d gone, there was an uneasy silence.



“Smith, to be honest with you, taking this girl into your house is a mistake and I pray you don’t regret it later” Mr. Ishola said somberly. “Iyawo, did you agree with him on this?” he asked, turning to Mrs. Smith, expecting her to say no.

“Yes” Mrs. Smith said and faked a smile “initially I was against it but later, I thought better of it. If our cases are reversed and God forbid, one of our own kids is left in the world all alone like she is now, I would be happy in heaven to see her in a good family like ours” She said, holding her husband’s hand under the table. She squeezed his hand and he squeezed back.



The Isholas were speechless after this. Finally, Mr. Ishola rose from the table.

“Thank you most graciously for tonight, especially for the delectable meal. We have a busy day tomorrow, so we have to leave now. Children, where are you, we are going!” he hollered in a loud voice and his children ran into the dining room “Get your things and let’s go”

“But dad, you said we are spending the night!” His twelve year old daughter protested.

“Yes we did” her mother cuts in quickly “But we have an urgent plan that we must attend to. Now be a good girl and let’s go….don’t you dare roll your eyes at me” she said sternly and her three children gathered their bags and toys and walked out into the lounge where the Smiths’ children and Kim were watching a cartoon on the TV.

“Goodnight” The Smiths’ children said

“Goodnight” The Isholas replied. Mr. and Mrs. Smith walked them out to the garage where their driver was waiting for them.

At the garage, while the Isholas were waiting for the family driver to start their vehicle, Mr. Smith asked if they were leaving because of what happened but they said no. None ventured an answer to the question.

Long after the Isholas have gone, Mr. and Mrs. Smith remained in the garage, talking about the abrupt ending of the evening.

“I didn’t expect you to support me” Mr. Smith said.

“I have no choice” Mrs. Smith said and smiled.

“You do have a choice my dear, your opinion matters”

“I know but it hits me when Kim was brought to meet them. She looked…lost and alone. My heart melts when I saw her expression then. Beside her tics, Kim is an excellent kid and I think I like her already and I am getting used to her tics”

“You are the most wonderful woman in this world” Mr. Smith said and took his wife into an affectionate hug.





Like Mr. Ishola innocently but rightly said, no school accepted Kim. All of them rejected her enrollment because of her medical condition.

“So sorry we can’t take her Mr. Smith” the proprietress of the last school said “Her tics will disrupt academic activities in any class she’s put into. You know children, they won’t pay attention to their teachers again, they will ostracize her and make things difficult for her. My suggestion however is that she needs a special school for children like her or a private teacher who wouldn’t mind the sounds she makes at regular intervals”




KIM

November 1992.

When all schools had rejected her, Mr. Smith suggested that she should stay at home for the time being while he searched online for schools within Lagos that would take her and that since she and Angela were in the same academic grades, she should be taught by Angela all the things she had been taught at school each day. Both Angela and Kim gladly accepted this and the arrangement worked so well that Kim was better than those who have been attending schools.



Six months after Kim came into the family, Maxwell graduated from the University and a party was organized for him at home to celebrate his success because he graduated with first class. The celebration was what brought the Smiths’ friends and relatives far and wide and made them meet Kim. All of them disapproved her adoption into the family. The only exception was Mr. Smith’s parents who believed he was right to have done what he did.



Few days after his graduation, Maxwell traveled abroad for his master’s degree in one of the world renowned universities. His departure was preceded by so much preparations and arrangements. As the first born in the family, he was given a lot of privileges but he didn’t misuse them. He was a well behaved and dashing young man. His grandfather once said in his absence that “He was a truly well trained child that the world would be proud of in the nearest future”



On the morning of his departure, the whole family including Kim drove in two cars to the Muritala Muhammed International airport at Ikeja to see him off. Despite the fact that they arrived at the airport on schedule according to his flight ticket, the flight was delayed without an official reason for several hours.



Throughout that time, Mr. Smith was lamenting and decrying what he called a “a failed social and political system”. This resulted into an argument between him and Maxwell who thought that Nigeria was doing better than many African and Asia countries he mentioned but his father opposed his view, saying that comparing Nigeria to a failed country is a failure in itself. “Why can’t we be compared to the UK or US or even China, why must it be those third world countries?”

“Dad, we are getting there” Maxwell said “Have faith dad”.

“Son, we the way things are going, it is obvious that we are going nowhere but moving in a circle that leads nowhere” He said heatedly “Have you ever wondered son, why I begged you to study political science instead of……..what did you even wanted to study then?”

“Anthropology”

“Yes, you know why? Because I wanted you to come back some years from now to contest for the highest political office in the country”

“Seriously dad, but I don’t need to study politics to be able to contest”

“Yes, but being trained is an added advantage over those who have never received any formal or informal training about leadership and that is the problem that Nigeria is facing now. Nigeria currently has leaders who have no clue about leadership and how it works, that’s why they rule anyhow.”

Maxwell was silent for several seconds.

“Thank you dad, I didn’t know that was your plan when you insisted I study political science. Though I hated it at the time, but over the years, I discovered that it would have been a disaster if I had studied any other course”

Mrs. Smith shifted impatiently from one foot to the other. She was clearly not interested in their discussion.

“If you two don’t mind, the rest of us will like to go for a stroll through the airport while both of you carry on your political discussions” Mrs. Smith said

“Mum, sorry we were carried away, I think we should all go together…..”

“No, you both stay right here and watch over your luggage. Thieves are everywhere nowadays” She said the last part lowering her voice. She and her husband laughed. Then she led the way while Rose, John, Angela and Kim followed. Mr. Smith and his son carried on their discussions.

While they were strolling through the airport with ice cream cones rapidly melting through the humid Nigerian heat, the children were trading banters and jokes about the things they saw.

“Mum, why are Nigerian airports not as good as those ones in say, US, UK, Canada and so on?” Rose queried as they passed the ticket’s offices where long queues of people seemed immobile. For several moments, her mother didn’t say anything. She was obviously thinking of what to say. She didn’t want to portray Nigeria as a bad country and at the same time, she didn’t want to give a false answer to her question.

“Well, we don’t have enough money to build those things”

“Even South Africa and Kenya have better airports and facilities!” She protested “Does that mean that they are richer than us?”

“Rose, why don’t you go back and join your brother and dad, you seem so interested in politics and right now, I just want to relax and have fun. Thank you”

“Mum, that isn’t fair. Did you know how bad it feels after traveling abroad and seeing all the wonderful things over there and coming back home to meet such under development and backwardness, it takes the brain a long time to adjust to these changes”

Her mother said nothing.

After 4PM, Maxwell’s flight took off and they all went back home.





No school admitted Kim because of the involuntary repetitive sounds she made all over the Lagos Island. All the schools politely turned down the application, stating that her noises would disrupt class activities and lead to mass withdrawal of other kids from the schools.



Mr. and Mrs. Smith had been advised by all the schools they have been and concerned individuals to take her to a special school. Special school, they advised are for people like her.

“But she has no impairment, neither is she mentally affected. It is just locomotory and speech defects!” Mrs. Smith had protested on different occasions when such suggestions were made. “She is as normal as the next kid and she will attend a normal school!”

After several months of staying at home, a school finally decided to accept her after much persuasion and a promise from Mr. Smith to be the chairman of the school’s inter house sports competition coming up some months from then. Kim was finally accepted to start from JSS1.



Kim’s first day in the new school was hell. She knew she would be taunted and mimicked and she thought she’d prepared enough for it but she discovered that she was in for a real trouble. The trouble began when she was being led from the registrar’s office to the block where her new class was located. On the way, two Primary three students were passing by and because she was very nervous, the tics kept coming quite frequently. The primary three girls barked in mock imitation of her Tourette’s and this was picked up by the students in all the classes they passed until the whole school was alive with barking of different voices.



She was bathed with shame and frustration even before she reached her class. The portal who led her to the class silently withdrew immediately she handed her over to her new class teacher. The class teacher was a tall bony woman in her late forties. She was a very strict and merciless woman whom the students all feared. Even the high school students feared her for her sharp tongue and inhuman punishments.



“What is your name and can you stop making those sounds, it is driving me cra….”she checked herself and stopped saying the last word.

“My name is Kimb…gbo, gbo…Kimberly Adams”

“And do you need to drink water to get rid of this sound or what?”

“No ma, it cannot go away even if I drink water. I was born with it”

“Chineke!” The teacher shouted in anger and disbelieve “So they heard you make all these noises at the office, yet they admit you? I’ll go and see the management now, this is absurd” She stood up abruptly and grabbed Kim’s hand but they met the Headmaster at the entrance.
“Going somewhere Mrs. Grace?”

“Ah, yes sir. I was just wondering, erm…this girl said she had been admitted and I think, given her condition I would suggest that….”

“Mrs. Grace, I appreciate your effort and opinion but in this case, I want you to take her and treat her like any other member of your class, are we clear?”

“Sir, I…”

“Are we or are we not cleared?” he insisted.

“Okay sir”

“Good, you both may go back to class now” he said and walked away. Mrs. Grace stared at his back as he walked away with undisguised contempt.

Despite the headmaster’s warning, Mrs. Grace treated her differently. She put her chair at the extreme end of the class and instructed her to find a way to minimize her noise. “Maybe you have to find a piece of cloth or tissue paper and stuff it in your mouth to muffle the sounds because I cannot deal with it”

“Yes ma” she said obediently. She was not surprised; she had been treated that way countless times before.

“Good”

That day at the school was one of the hardest and the slowest days of her life. The hours moved at snail pace and before break time at 11 O clock, she was already exhausted from trying to suppress the tics in order not to offend the teacher or make the class snicker at her. While no one was looking, she stuffed her handkerchief deep into her throat to stop the noises until she choked and retched.

During the break, students from the upper and lower classes came to her class and peeped at her like a strange animal in a zoo. Many of them mimicked and laughed at her but few looked with sympathy at her.



When the school closed by 5PM; Mrs. Smith was already waiting for her at the gates in her car. She got in the back to join Angela and John. After exchanging greetings, Mrs. Smith asked how her day was and she said fine. Though she wished she could open up and tell her all the things she passed through but she didn’t want to complain and look bad to the people who were trying to help her. So instead, she said fine.



Later in the evening however, when they were dining, Mr. Smith asked same question and she gave same answer but he prodded her for more information and she told him. No one said anything after she recounted the story and they all felt sorry for her. Mr. Smith was angry at this.

“I’ll go to the school tomorrow and lodge a complaint against that discriminating teacher!” he said vehemently.

“No sir, please!” Kim pleaded “She will hate me more if you do that”

“Dear, I think she is right” Mrs. Smith said calmly. “I think we should let her deal with it in her own way. They will eventually accept her for who she is”

“Okay, but that woman needs some talking to”



The following week at school was a lot better than her first week. Though there were still many who mimicked and mocked her for the sounds she made continuously, yet there were few who have developed a strong feeling of likeness for her because of her personality.



For instance, a couple of days after her enrollment in the school, she met Chinwe, a supposedly dull student who always comes last academically at the end of every class work and reports. Chinwe was two years older than Kim. The same way that she Kim was ostracized by the rest of the class was the way poor Chinwe too was abandoned. She was relegated to the bottom of intellectual ladder in the class. So on this fateful day, both of them were at the end of the class while the rest of the class occupied the front seats, close to the teacher.



Because no one seems to care or pay attention to her, Kim began to solve the maths questions that were given to the class some minutes earlier during maths class. After some minutes, she was through with the assignment and while closing her book, she discovered that Chinwe had been copying her works. Instead of getting angry, she left the book open and pretended not to see her copying. Apart from being a slow learner, it became obvious to Kim that Chinwe was a super slow writer as well. After several minutes, Chinwe spoke up for the first time since she’d known her.



“Please what did you write here” She asked timidly, fearful and full of apprehension that Kim would shout and call her names like her other classmates but Kim did none of those things. She only wrote the answer more clearly. When Chinwe was done, she heaved a huge sigh of relief and she closed her book triumphantly. Though Kim was still a newcomer in the school, yet, she had not seen a day when their class teacher would not chastise Chinwe for not doing one assignment or the other.

“Thank you” she said, almost whispering.

“You are welcome. Though the assignment is not hard….”

“It is” Chinwe said and frowned. “Because you know it easily doesn’t mean it is not hard”

“Well, maybe but anyone can do it…”
“I can’t” Chinwe retorted.

“You can” Kim insisted. “Let me show you how…”

“Don’t worry, I can never know anything” Chinwe said with a resignation that baffles Kim.

“Hey, you two, what are you saying at the back there?” Mrs. Grace asked suddenly and the whole class’ attention riveted towards them. “I want to know”

Chinwe became her silent and broody self but Kim said they were only answering some questions.

“Maybe she is teaching her how to do gbo, gbo, gbo!”Frank said and the class erupted into laughter. Even Mrs. Grace allowed a smile to walk through her face. Frank was the naughtiest student in the class and he was the leaders of those who usually taunted Kim.

“Excuse me Frank, I am not talking to you. Both of you, stand” Mrs. Grace said and they both stood up “Come on the board and draw these shapes for me, if you don’t get it, I’ll have no choice than to deal with you because when the class is going on, you both were playing at the back”

Both Kim and Chinwe shuffled to the front of the class and they were given markers.

“Chinwe, draw a trapezium, a square and a parallelogram” As Chinwe began drawing the first of the shapes, the class erupted into laughter and singing. She couldn’t continue writing due to the jest and mockery, so she stopped.


https:///2og9sW9


(To Be Continued)

(Continued from the previous part)



Kim was introduced to Mr. Smith's family.



Mr. Smith.

May 1992.

Mr. Smith was once again at the wooden structure that served as a school for more than a hundred and twenty students. There was nowhere to sit in the cubicle that served as the Headmaster’s office, so he remained standing while he listen to Kim’s class teacher narrating the unfortunate incidence that happened to Kim’s mother.

“That was how she lost her mother” the teacher said and dabbed at tears quickly “After the incidence, efforts were made to reach her only surviving relative- her aunt but the aunt has not been seen for weeks even before the accident happened. The hospital where her mother’s body was taken was shouting that the body should be recovered as soon as possible otherwise it would incur more charges. So when all hope is lost and there’s no one to call again for help, I decided to call you because I remember the last time you came here and dropped your number with the instruction that should she need anything, I should let you know” the kind teacher said.



Mr. Smith was lost in thought over this unfortunate development. A part of him regretted getting too involved in the first place and he chided himself silently for leaving his number. But another part of him was telling him that he had done the right thing. At last, he said. “How can I help this situation now?”

“Let’s start with the burial of her mother then we will sort out other things. The headmaster suggested.

“Okay, what are the steps we need to take?”

“First, we have to clear the bills at the hospital and get permission from the local government to bury her at the public cemetery”



Mr. Smith and the headmaster went to the hospital and paid the bills then he drove her to the local government where they waited for hours before they were attended to. The secretary who attended to them was a plump woman who talked a lot. While attending to them, she was busy discussing with another woman in the office. This frustrated Mr. Smith a lot and he was tempted several times to call her to order and her see how bad her action was but he decided to let it go.



They were given several forms to fill and on each form, the word “FREE” was written in block letters but after filling the forms, the woman said their bill was fifteen thousand naira.

“But it was clearly written on the form that it is free!” Mr. Smith said heatedly, angry beyond description.



“Yes, it was free when this form was printed but it is no longer free, sir” the woman said icily, looking at the faces of her colleagues in the office for support. All of them nodded in agreement to support her claim.

“Then I won’t pay if I don’t see a legal documentation to back up your claim that the forms aren’t free anymore” Mr. Smith said obstinately.

Other people in the room stopped what they were doing and their attention was riveted towards the table where Mr. Smith, the HM and the woman were sitting.

“Sir, I thought you really wanted these forms when you requested for them but now it is obvious that you are nothing but someone wants to waste my time…” the woman said and she began to gather the forms.

“If you don’t return those forms now, I’ll call the police” Mr. Smith said his voice firm and authoritative.

“On what ground will you call the police?” the woman challenged.

“In fact, I don’t even need these forms again and I’ll have you arrested by the police now for misconduct” he fished out his phone and began to dial a number. Other staff in the office quickly ran to him. The men among them prostrated and the women knelt down; all of them began to beg him. “Don’t you dare touch me, birds of the same feather! Were you all not here now when she said it is fifteen thousand naira? Didn’t you all confirm that it is true?!” he stood up angrily and walked out of the office. All the people ran after him except the woman that was attending to him, she sat shaking on her chair.



After several minutes of begging and pleading, Mr. Smith calmed down and the form were brought to him by another person. After much pleas and promises not to ‘do that’ again by the woman and her colleagues, he and the HM left the local government to start the preparations for the burial.



After three days of running from pole to pole, getting all the necessary permissions, her mother was buried at a public cemetery. The only people at the burial ground were Mr. Smith, Kim, the headmistress of her school, a pastor that was paid to conduct the final rites and pall bearers in their dark, cheerful moods. After the burial, the pastor and the pall bearers left, leaving the three of them alone beside the grave.

“So, what’s next now?” Mr. Smith asked.

“I was about to ask the same question too sir” the headmistress said. “I think we need to think about where Kim will live now”

“How is that? What about her aunt?” Mr. Smith asked

“She has not been seen for almost four weeks now. No one knows where she is” the headmistress said.

“Then she can live with you or one of your female teachers” he said simply.

“Sir that is a problem. Like myself, I am living in a room with my husband and three kids. His siblings are also living with us, making seven of us in a room. Yet, I am better off than all my teachers. Most of them are squatting with friends and relatives.”

Mr. Smith looked unbelievably at her.

“Is it that bad?”

“It is worse sir” she said sadly.

“So what do you suggest, should she be taken to a boarding house?”

“That doesn’t sound right sir. Even boarding schools have times that they are on break, during those times, where would she be?”



Mr. Smith thought about that. He was angry at the fact that the problem of someone he didn’t know existed some weeks back had now become his own problem.

“So?” he asked, already guessing what she was driving at.

“It’s in your hands sir”

“You are saying that I should take her to my house?” he asked incredulously.

She shrugged. “You cannot leave her to be living in the streets sir”

“Impossible!” he said hotly. But the more he thought about it, the clearer it became to him that there was no one who could help her but him. But what would he tell his wife and his children? What will his friends and extended family say?





Mr. Smith drove Kim to his residence after closing from work. He led her to the guest room and told her to remain there until he calls her. After leaving her at the guest room, he began searching for his family. He checked the living room and their bedrooms but no one was there. Then he heard their voices from the playground at the back of the house. He left the house and went to meet them. They were on the basketball court; they were divided into two unequal teams. His wife and three older children were sweating and grunting as they dribbled and threw the ball among themselves. He wondered where his six year old daughter was.



“Hey daddy” he spurned around and came face-to-face with his daughter, Angela. Before he could say a word, she jumped at him and he caught her midair, hugging her tightly to his bosom.

“Why are you not playing?” he asked as he mussed her hair.

“They said I’m too short. Dad when will I grow tall like Max and mammy?” She asked seriously. Max was his first born, he was twenty years old.

“Soon. Soon darling. Don’t rush it” he said with smiles on his face. “Now get down and let me play a little”. He put her down and winked at her “You are still my favourite, Angy”

“Yes daddy” she said and winked back as he walked out of the house to the basketball court behind the house.



While they were observing a break, he gently broke the news to his family.

“Smith, you kept all these from me?” his wife asked, hurt.

“I am sorry. I was going to tell you…..”

“Tell me when?”

“Lola, calm down. You don’t understand. When I first came in contact with the girl, I thought I would never see her again until three days ago when her teacher called me and told me about her. Even at the time, I didn’t know I will end up with her”

“I have heard you but we can’t take her in” she said with a finality that told him that no matter what he says after that, she wouldn’t listen. Then she walked back into the house. It remained him and his children on the court.

“What do you think guys?” he asked his children.

“Well, there is nothing wrong with helping other people, I don’t see anything wrong with what you have done” Maxwell said.

“Thanks Max” he said gratefully.

“Yeah but mum must have her reasons for saying no” Rose said carefully. “Life is dangerous now. It is risky bringing strangers to your home, you don’t know anything about them and if they are embodiment of evil…..”

“Here we go again” Maxwell scoffed, rolling his eyeballs.

“See, he doesn’t believe in spirituality!” Rose said exasperated. She was five years younger than Maxwell but she wished she could bridge the gap because she hated the way he always have his ways in every situation.

“I don’t think we need to fight over this” their father said to douse the tension.

“Daddy, where is she? Is she here already?” John, his second son and 3rd child asked. He was twelve years old and very quiet. He reads a lot. That’s why Rose used to call him The Living Library.

“Who…the girl?”

“Yes” they all said.

“Yes, she is in the guest room. Shall we go and say hello to her? If you all accept her, I’m sure your mum too will”



He led his children into the guest room where Kim was sitting on the bed with her hands under her chin and lost in thought. They all filed in and sat on the bed close to her. “Children, this is Kim. Kim, these are my children: Maxwell, Rose, Sola and Angela”

“Hi Kim” they all said.

“Hello”

“Dad has told us about everything that happened to you and we are deeply sorry. We want you to know that we love and care about you and that for the time being that you will live us, we will treat you like a member of the family” Maxwell said and others nodded in support.

“Thank you” she said.

“Dad, why does she make those strange noises?”

“She has a speech defect” he said quietly. “It’s called Tourette. Tourette syndrome (TS) is a neurological disorder characterized by repetitive, stereotyped, involuntary movements and vocalizations called tics. The disorder is named for Dr. Georges Gilles de la Tourette, the pioneering French neurologist who in 1885 first described the condition in an 86-year-old French noblewoman. It is an involuntary repetitive sound which is caused by magnetic friction in the brain.”

“Whoa, how does she cope with the noises, especially in school?”

“One can get used to anything in this life. So we will too. The worst part of this thing is that it cannot be cured. There is no medical cure for it, yet”

Later in the evening during diner, Kim’s tics kept breaking into their conversations until they all gave up making a conversation.

For days, Mrs. Smith did not speak to Kim. She believed she was an intruder in her home and did not want anything to do with it though all her children and husband have already accepted her as a temporary member of the family.

“Smith, I can cope with anything but those sounds, Argh!” she complained endlessly.

“You mean her tics?” her husband asked gently.

“Yes, they are horrible. It’s like the barks of a dog….oh, sorry but that is the way she sounds when she has the tics and it occurs at least five times in a minute! Those sounds will run me mad.”

Later that evening, the Smiths invited another family to diner according to their tradition. Kim was told to dine in her room that night for reasons unexplained by Mr. Smith but Kim knew. The Isholas arrived at 7PM, for the diner and after they had all taken their seats, Mr. Ishola asked if the Smiths had finally decided on having a dog.

“I’m sure it is a cub, what breed is it? Rottweiler, German shepherd or….”

“We haven’t gotten a dog” Mr. Smith said quietly

“But those strange sounds coming from one of your rooms….”Mrs. Ishola said, facing Mrs. Smith and meeting her eyes challengingly. Mrs. Smith looked away, saying nothing.

By this time, no one was eating or saying anything. An embarrassed silence hung over the room. All eyes except Mrs. Smiths were turned on Mr. Smith.

“It…it’s from a girl I helped” he said quietly

“A girl you helped, so why is the sound…?” Mr. Ishola asked but stopped abruptly “Well, it’s okay if you don’t want to talk about it, we respect your privacy despite the fact that you and I have been friends since childhood and I believe that you will not hide anything from me” He said as he thumbed Mr. Smith’s back.
Read more.... https:///2BHMNoN


(To Be Continued)

(Continued from the previous part)



Image result for hd picture of a homeless mother and her young girl

Kim after her mother's death.


At 1PM the girl was discharged from the clinic. Mr. Smith asked her if she knew her mother’s number but she said no. She gave him the name of her school and he was able to locate the school through google maps after fifty minutes of driving and turning from one slum to the other. The said school was a wooden structure with about three rooms, separated with planks. There were more than thirty students in each tiny room such that there was barely enough place to sit them. Above all, there was a strong overpowering smell that wafted up from the gutters nearby. This was in sharp contrast with the schools his children attended.



He spoke briefly with her class teacher who told him that the girl, whom he later knew as Kim was on scholarship because of her exceptional academic excellence. He gave the teacher some amount of money to buy all the necessary things for the girl, most especially food and cloths. He gave the teacher his number so that she could call him if the girl needed anything then he left.



As he drove to the other part of the town where his wife’s chains of shops were located, he felt light headed and happy. He had not felt that way for years and he enjoyed the heavenly feeling that comes with doing something good and worthwhile for other people.



KIM.

April 1992.

Three months after the incident, Kim and her mother were sent packing from the place they lived because they were unable to pay the rent for several years. The real owner of the house had been very kind to them while he was alive. He had never bothered to disturb them about paying instead, he always told her mother to pay when she has the money. But the landlord had died one rainy evening and his only son had taken over the ownership of the house. It was rumoured that he was happy that his father died.



He was a Rehoboam, he made life harder for the tenants and among the people to be evicted first were Kim and her mother. So this made them to be living with her mother’s sister who has a room in an old crumbling house on the Lagos mainland.



One Tuesday morning in April, Kim and her mother were going to her employers’ house and she was telling Kim all the things she would do when she gets there. At the time, the schools were on second term break. The sky suddenly became clouded with pregnant clouds. The sun was conquered and her lights were snuffed out quickly by the darkening clouds. Winds whipped up all sort of debris that littered the streets and flew them through the air like kites. Motorists and pedestrians quickened their paces in order to outrun the impending rain. Her mother urged her to quicken her pace, wishing and hoping that they would be able to make it to her working place before the rains begin.



Just as if the rain knew their intention and didn’t want to be defeated, it began in a torrential downpour and within seconds, all the people still on the streets were drenched to the bones and the dirty yellow Lagos buses were washed clean from their eternal filth. There was nowhere to duck from the merciless rain, all the houses and the shops beside the road had no facade that could offer shelters from the pelting rain, so her mother held her hand tighter and urged her through the rain.

“Mummy, I want to pee!” Kim shouted through the deafening noise of the rain but her mother didn’t hear so she had to shout louder.

“Pee on yourself, it doesn’t matter anyways, we are drenched already” her mother said distractedly.



Tentatively, Kim began to pee on herself and the warm salty liquid was heavenly against the chilling waters of the rains. She mused at the fact that her mother who used to scold her for bed-wetting in her sleeps when she was younger was the one telling her to pee on herself now.



At the junction where they were supposed to turn towards the estates where her employers lived, her mother stopped abruptly, a yellow bus zoomed past in a hurry, bathing them with the brownish dirty flood. Kim wanted to start raining abuses on the irresponsible bus driver but her mother told her not to. “One day” her mother said “you too will buy a car and will accidentally splash water on people. People will rain abuses on you too and some will even curse you but they will be powerless against you if you don’t do it now that others are doing it to you”

“Okay mum” Kim said.



Her mother looked right and left to confirm that no vehicle was coming from both sides though it was very hard to see because the visibility was very poor and the rains blurred their visions.

“Let’s go now!” her mother said and crossed the road.

Kim was slow to respond immediately and by the time she began walking after her mother, a car had emerged from a side street and hit her mother, the collision separated their hands and sent both of them flying in different directions. Kim was stunned from the impact but she was able to stand after staying few moments on the ground. Whoever drove the car didn’t wait; he or she sped off down the adjacent street.

“Mum?” Kim ran towards the place where her mother lay sprawled on the streets, lifeless. “Mum, muuummm!”



Her screams brought people from the surrounding houses and streets into the rains and soon, the place was filled with people despite the rains. After several minutes of fruitless effort at waking her mother, the good Samaritans decided to take her to the hospital and an incoming car was stopped and forced to carry Kim and her lifeless mother to the nearest hospital. They were followed by two old women, who cried all the way to the hospital.



At the hospital, nurses and orderlies brought a stretcher on which she was wheeled into an emergency room. The trio was made to wait at the reception. Less than two minutes later, the doctor in charge came out with his stethoscope on his neck. He beckoned to one of the women and the two of them conversed silently. Somewhere in the middle of their conversation, the woman shouted but she quickly put herself under control after stealing a glance at Kim. After few more seconds of their conversation, the doctor walked into a ward and the woman came back to where they were standing.

“How was it, ako abi abo?” the other woman asked.

“Abo, she kicked the bucket” the other woman said sadly.

“Eemo! Yeepa!” the other woman said tragically.

Though Kim didn’t understand anything about their coded conversation but from the tone of their voices and body languages, she knew that something serious had happened to her mother. She began to cry. The women quickly placated her and told her that her mother was okay.

“Then I want to see her now!”

“I’m afraid you cannot do that right now, she is not strong enough to see anyone now. By the way, where is your house and how can we reach your father?”

“My dad is dead” Kim said

“What?!” The women shouted in unison.

“Iru ki leleyi o!” What sort of calamity is this? The older one lamented. Soon, she began to sing a dirge in a sonorous voice. All these brought tears to Kim’s face again and she began to cry.... READ MORE..... https:///32VH233

Kimberly, (a true account of a lost girl.)


KIM.

(The Destined Child).

By

Olayiwola Oromidayo (Ayomide)



©2019.



Foreword.

This book is meant to sensitize people, especially Africans about adoption. Many Africans see adoption as a western culture which has no root in the African soil. This perspective is wrong to put say it mildly.

An adopted child is as good as one’s biologically child(ren). Adopting a child will go a long way in reducing population in Africa; promote peace and development, security, unity and mutual understanding to mention a few.

Besides, when a child is adopted and properly taken care of, such child will be eternally grateful to that man, woman or couple that took him or her in when he or she has no one. This is the simple truth. Let’s make the world a better by putting a smile on the face of a child!



Dedication.

This book is dedicated to the helpless kids in the world who go to bed at nights with tears and hunger. Your coming into the world is not a mistake; there is a reason why you are here. Though there are mountains to climb, hurdles to jump and rivers to swim, yet you will prevail because nothing is impossible as long as you strongly believe and have faith. This book is dedicated to you.









PROLOGUE.

One bright Sunday afternoon, Kim, a nine year old highly spirited girl skipped through a congested street with her school bag firmly held in place at her back. The happiness on her young beautiful face rivalled that of the bright shining sun and this evident happiness rubbed off on the people she passed. She took two steps at a skip and sang happily as she weaved through the human traffic on the streets. Several times, she had to walk as close to the gutters as possible whenever the impatient Lagos drivers decided to overtake the vehicle in front at all cost or in some cases when they decided to drive on the curb, causing the pedestrians to scamper for cover with curses.



After several minutes, she arrived at a junction where the street branched off into two more streets. Here she paused and took a moment to decide which one to take. The road by her right led to the opulent GRA where she knew that her mother would be at that moment, working in one of the grandest houses as a cook whiles the one by the left led to the slum where she and her mother lived. She didn’t stay long in making up her mind because she knew that her mother would undoubtedly wanted her to stay at home till she comes back in the evening to join her but the temptation to see her mother at that moment was so great that she couldn’t resist it. So she took the right and walked few paces down before she came to the impossibly talk gates that keep strangers and poor people like herself away the GRA.



The gates and the fences surrounding the GRA were so tall that nothing could be seen of the streets inside. Two unsmiling guards stood guard like sentinels at the entrance, eyeing every passersby suspiciously.

She halted at the entrance and looked up at the unsmiling security guards with a sort of boldness and innocence that surprised them both.

“Yes?” The taller of the two men asked when he could find his voice “What do you want here?”

“My mother” She said calmly “She works inside this estate”

“I’m sorry we can’t allow you to go in unless you are a resident of this estate. Why don’t you go home and wait for your mother there? She’ll join you at home in the evening when she’s done” The other man suggested.

“I’m sorry but I have to see her now!”

“When did your mother start working here?”

“Today”

“Ah, I see” One of the men said, scratching his bald pate. “Do you know the number of the house where she works?”

She shook her head in the negative.

“I’m afraid I can’t help you. Go home and wait for her. She’ll come for you when she is ready. Did you hear that?”

Kim didn’t reply. Instead, she stood rooted to same place with her bony hands crossed across her thin chest. She held the two men’s gaze steadily without flinching or looking away.

Both men became uncomfortable. It would have been easier if it was an adult that they had to deal with but how would they handle a child without giving the impression that they were maltreating and abusing her?

“Okay, do you know the name of your mother’s employer; maybe we can contact him or her to inform your mother that you want to see her?” The shorter of the men said exasperatedly.
“She works for the Williamsons”

“Okay” one of the men said and marched off into the guard house at the entrance of the gates. The other stayed at the gates with Kim, shifting his weight from leg to leg. After several minutes, the other man reemerged from the guard house with what looked like a rusty smile on his broad face. “I have put a call through to your mother and she will be here soon. In the meantime, you can sit under the tree over there, leave this place” He said and pointed to a tree afar off.

“I’d rather wait for her here” she said with a finality that shocked both men and there she was till her mother came out some twenty minutes later.

“Kim, you better have good reasons for dragging me out of work at this time, otherwise I will spank you so badly” her mother said as she emerged from the gates, untying the apron as she walked.

“Mum, mum, he came!” she said “He was angry and shouting and he said I must find you otherwise, he will send us packing”

“Who….the landlord?” She asked with a worried look.

“Yes”

For several moments, both of them said nothing as they considered their options. Finally, she spoke.

“You know what, go back home and tell him that I will soon be home and I’ll come to his place to pay. Meanwhile, when you get home, go to mama Bisi and tell her to give you a cup of garri and groundnut for lunch, I’ll pay her in the evening”

“Okay mum”



Her mother went back to the estate and Kim skipped back home the same way she came. The security men at the gates watched her go with sympathy, neither of them saying anything but both of them thinking how beautiful it would be if such a lively and highly spirited girl could be born with opportunities, she would have been unstoppable.





Chapter One.

January 1992, Lagos Nigeria.

Mr. Smith was a successful businessman who believed that as long as one is hardworking, nothing is impossible to achieve. He has shown this principle in the way he managed both his chain of businesses and his family. He always made sure that his children top their different classes with distinctions. He was fond of saying “Heavens can only help you when you have helped yourself to some extent”



One Monday morning while he was driving to his office, he became held up in an unmoving traffic. He was used to having his ways according to his timing, so he was frustrated with the traffic but because he had no choice, he decided to wait it out. The traffic crawled at snail’s pace and he inched his car forward slowly at the pace of the traffic.



To pass away the time, he turned on the FM radio and tuned to a music station but he turned it off because the music was ‘nothing but a loud cacophony of sounds and rhythm with no suggestion at melody’. That was his definition of much Nigerian music. So he always dissuades his children from becoming enamored to them. “This is not about not loving what is ours” he always said whenever Angela, his eldest child starts defending the Nigerian music and challenging him why he didn’t not appreciate them. “Yes, I love my country and will do anything within my power to defend her integrity if needed but am I supposed to love what’s not good about it? Will I say because it is my country and I have to show my loyalty, then I have to listen to junk as music?”

“But dad, are you implying that ALL Nigerian music is junk?” Fred, his eldest son would ask

“No” he would quickly say “Not all. We still have some artistes who sing common sense but majority of them sing trash”

All these conversations with his family came rushing back at him on that particular day while he was waiting in the traffic. He began to watch the pedestrians as they walked with a sort of purposefulness that you will only see in Lagos in Nigeria. Lagosians have this aura of purpose about the way they walk that no other state in Nigeria could match. People of all ages and shapes were walking past him as the traffic came to a dead lock and became completely stopped. After putting a call through to his secretary to delay the board meeting for at least an hour, he resorted to looking at the pedestrians and thinking about them.



While he was doing this, his eyes caught a lone small figure bundled in rags and an old school bag walking past his car. He focused his attention on the child because she reminded him of his youngest child, Annabel who must be age mate with this young girl going to school. He felt sorry that as young as the girl was, she has to pass through so many obstacles in life before she can make anything meaningful out of her life. He silently thanked God for lifting him out of that level. He was lost in thought over this unknown girl when the traffic began to move again. Cars began to rush off like a flood that has been held up in a dam for so long. He engaged the gear and moved with the traffic.

After several minutes’ drive, he came to a broad way and he stepped on the gas, trying to gain the lost time while he was held up in the traffic. He knew he could still make the meeting at the earlier scheduled time if he drives faster. Involuntarily, his mind returned to his children and how God had blessed him with them. He considered himself the luckiest man in the world for having everything he needed and a family with exceptionally brilliant, well behaved and responsible children.

He was still caught up in his reflections when a child suddenly crossed the road. It was almost too late before he saw the child but he was quick and calm enough to swerve to the left, taking advantage of the fact that no car was coming behind and he slowed down until the engine stopped running. He opened the door and sprinted back to the fallen child in the middle of the road. He knew he had not hit the child but he just wanted to be sure she was okay.

“Hey, are you okay?” he asked as he reached where she’d fallen in the middle of the road “Can you hear me, are you okay?”



At this juncture, other people had joined him in the middle of the road and this has caused another hold up. Several people were speaking at once but he was not bothered with whatever they were saying but bent on confirming if the child was okay. He confirmed her pulse and checked her body for scratches but there was none then he heaved a sigh of relief.

“Check her pupils” Someone suggested and he did. Her eyes were dilated and she looked faint. “It is the shock” many people chorused in babble.



To save time and energy, he decided to take her to the hospital. He asked if anyone would follow him but no one volunteered. Then he carried her into his car and drove off, leaving the uncaring crowd gaping at the rear of his car.



He took her to his company’s clinic and after handing her over to the nurses on duty, he headed to his office for the meeting. After the meeting, he headed back to the clinic to find out how the girl was faring.



“She is okay” the doctor told him as he walked into her ward “She was not hit”

“Then why did she pass out?” he asked, concerned.

“It was shock” the doctor said simply, smiling “and malnutrition”

Mr. Smith walked close to the bed and examined the tiny bundle. The girl was awake and was staring back at him. Their eyes met and held. His heart beat fast in his chest and his voice became constricted in his throat.

“h-how are you?” he asked huskily.

“I’m fine” she said. “Thank you for saving me. It was my fault…”

“Nonsense, it was not your fault. Where were you going?”

“I I …Was going to school but I missed my way. I have been walking for almost one hour before I decided to cross the road and go back the way I came that was when I was almost hit” the girl said. Mr. Smith noticed that she had a regular tic while she was speaking. The tics greatly affected her speech.

“Okay. Hope you are feeling better now?”

“Yes sir” she said.

“What would you like to eat now and have you eaten this morning?”

“I’ve not eaten but anything would be okay”

The doctor instructed the nurse attending her to get her something to eat and the latter left the ward.

Mr. Smith and the doctor conversed for few more minutes during which the doctor told him that she should be rested for few hours before she was discharged. Mr. Smith asked if she had hiccups but the doctor said it was a permanent READ MORE.... https:///2BGiEX9