By Girl From The South
I woke up one sunday morning and told my daddy……
Just as I turned on my bed despite the harmattan cold I found some comfort in the knowledge that I had washed the dishes the previous night so I didn’t have to go through the torture of the icy water.
As I was about to close my eyelids hoping to find some sleep, perhaps I may have the luxury of seeing my prince charming. I heard our Landlady’s voice nagging as usual just that today it was my father’s turn.
“Ete Emem, ulauka ukpe rent?”
(papa, Emem, won’t you pay your rent?)
Before my father could answer she had slapped him, by this time I was standing by my wretched father. My father took the Battery in good faith and apologised quickly by going on his knees.
After our landlady had left, my father turned to met the disappointment in my eyes. I could not speak a word but he could read me like a book, with a look of reassurance he left me standing there in my faded night gown.
Meet my family, we afford three meals a day. You know the groundnut and garri snack saving Nigerians since the 50’s.
My father had been a merchant who lost his merchandise to some good samaritan mission he undertook against my mother’s warning.
My mother had been a teacher who had to stop work because of the health condition she developed after my father’s loss.
Am not an only child but rather than bore you with tales and descriptions of my pot bellied and “tiny bone” siblings let me tell you about myself and what has led me to this dungeon from where am writing these words hoping my father never reads it else he will “kick a jerrican”.
“One sunday morning I told my daddy am leaving home, am going to the city tomorrow even though I don’t know where to go”.
My Dad had warned that I could get broken but I was adamant. Its been four years eleven months since I left home, it’s been such a lonely journey. Like my father had said life in the city is not rosy. Seated in my room I keep my gaze fixed on the box of clothes and gifts I had bought to take back to my family. I HAD MADE IT.
I had become a night worker, life had gone on smoothly, I was getting paid and my clients were respectful. Little did I know that the Old women in my mother’s village had held a meeting on my behalf the previous night, the next day was my last day on this job.
It was going smoothly, he had just paid me, he was my favourite client and he had asked to be my last bus stop. After the marathon I was tucking my cheque of 3million into my box. There was a knock on the door, I was not expecting anyone so I hesitated. I looked at Chief my client and he had gone all white. I moved slowly towards him and asked him what was wrong before his lips could finally let the words hit my ear drums, his heart had stopped. He had been pumped with bullets that came through the door.
Soon the police will be here and my life has ended officially. Who will believe me?
“Hello daddy how are you doing?
Hope mama is doing ok,
It’s been 4yrs and 11 months now.
It was true what you said to me,
Life in the city is unbelievable,
I had to struggle to get by everyday.
Daddy pray for me,
Pray I find my way,
Forgive me father……”
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