Chapter 6

When the holidays began, I thought I would only have to deliver goods to customers in the morning as usual. I had planned to spend my time at home to watch television, play with friends around then go the shop in the afternoon. This was not to be because my guardian told me that the cost of my education had gone up, so during the holidays I would have to work more. The new routine was to supply goods to customers in the morning, return home for breakfast then go to a popular bus stop to hawk rice.

When I started hawking rice I met a lot of children going through the same situation. Many of them were orphans and probably living with one relative or the other.I met the good ones that were hopeful for a change of story and I also met some bad kids. Most of these kids after a while could no longer bear the pains from their guardians, so they resulted to run away from home to become thugs. At the age of fifteen or less,these boys were not only smoking marijuana and cigarettes, they were also stealing from shops at night.The more daring ones also robbed pedestrians in the early hours of the day .They told me there was absolutely no point in being good when the world had been unfair to them. I decided not to be judgemental about the path they chose even though I knew it might not end well for.most of them.

I wished the long holidays would end quickly. I envied the kids my age that only had to do chores at home,I had chores to do and home and money to make on the streets. All through the holidays, I was involved in trading activities. It wasn't that I was lazy, but I also wanted to be treated the way I saw other children in the neighborhood being treated. I didn't allow all of these break me. At night before bed, I always made sure I had something to read.

Even though I handled money everyday, I didn't allow myself the temptation to steal. One would have thought that I would be stealing some money to buy myself snacks in school since I was never given money for anything except transport fare but I didn't. My grand mother had drummed it into my ears to never steal,I understood how bad it was to be called a thief so I never for once thought of stealing.

I joined the junior choir in church because singing was something I have wanted to do. I discovered I had a good voice and I wanted to use my talent in the church choir. I was allowed to go for practice a few times,I also had the opportunity to minister on some Sunday services until I was told that the hours I was spending in church was affecting the things I needed to do at home and the shop. That was how I stopped singing in the choir.After church on Sundays, as soon as I was done eating lunch, I would wash clothes until evening. If I happened to be the only one at home, I would sneak out to play with friends outside. A couple of times I got caught, which resulted in severe punishment and beating, but I didn't always stop myself from utilizing every little opportunity I had, to spend time with friends.

Ever since I joined the press club, I had kept a separate notebook that I used as diary. I was keeping records of events in my life. My cousins found the diary where I kept it. They read it and found out that all along I had found out about my dad's death because I kept record of how I heard and how bad I felt because they didn't tell me or even allowed me to attend his funeral. Deacon felt bad that I had known all along, so he apologized for keeping it from me. He explained that the whole family thought I was a little child and they didn't want it to have negative effects on my mental health. He made arrangements to travel to the village with me so that I could go and see my dad's grave as well as pay my last respect. I didn't know how I felt about that but I agreed to go.

The day chosen for our trip came, we went to the motor park to take a bus going to Oyan, my village. Deacon and I were not from the same village, but he knew his way there because he had been there many times with his wife. It was a four hours trip, we arrived the village motor park at about 5pm. My grandmother had relocated from the old family house where I lived with her before I was relocated to the city. The old house had been demolished because it was old and needed to be pulled down. We lived with extended family members in the old house but this time around only my grandmother lived in the house her husband built before he passed on.

My grandmother was preparing dinner when she looked up and saw us coming. She was so surprised to see us, she left what she was doing and ran to us. She welcomed my Uncle and hugged me until she started crying. She already knew why my Uncle brought me home. She knew I must have found out about what had been kept away from me.

We went to join her in the kitchen where she was cooking. I helped her with some few things, she finished cooking then she served us dinner. She and my uncle conversed for a little while then he was taken to the guest room where he would pass the night while I spent some time alone with her. She said she understood that being with my Aunty and her husband would have been different from when I was with her, but I should continue to be obedient and stay focused on my studies. She said she wanted me to grow up to be a better man than my dad. She told me to go to town in the morning to look for my childhood friend Simon, so he could show me where my dad was buried. She couldn't go with me because it is a taboo in our culture for a parent to know the burial site of his offspring.

It was Saturday, our second day in the village. Grandma had been awake earlier than us because we were tired from the trip, we needed to get enough rest as we would be returning to Lagos on that day. Deacon had to be in church on Sunday then get ready to be at work on Monday morning. I had to rush to town to see my father's grave and my friends .I got up from bed, greeted Deacon and Grandma, I was asked to quickly go take my bath so I could eat breakfast and go to town. I took my bath got dressed, ate breakfast of pap and beans cake and headed for town.