Chapter 8

The bus eventually filled up with enough passengers needed for departure and we were ready to move. The names and addresses of all the passengers were collected by a short man in tattered clothings.I was curious as to why this was done and asked Deacon,he said it was to have contacts for the passengers in case of accidents or any other mishap that may occur during the journey.

The bus moved slowly as we moved out of the motor park. I beheld the town as the speed increased gradually going towards the exit of the town, I looked longingly at my primary school, the Jehovah Witness primary school just at the outskirts of the town as we passed by.This brought back lots of memories . I remembered how interesting it was walking to and fro school with my friends.

One particularly sad memory pushed itself to my mind.One sunny afternoon,one of my classmates had gone off across the express road and was knocked down right in front of the school gates. There was so much blood it took days for the evidence of the accident to be fully eradicated.I remembered how traumatized I was, that I couldn't eat for about three days. Miraculously the boy survived. The state government had interfered and helped his parents to give him intensive and expensive care.I was still so traumatized that by the time he returned to school, I was still scared to speak with him after what I saw him go through. I was so deep in thoughts and all sorts of memories about the village kept on flying through my mind until the bus exited Oyan and then I fell asleep.

It was another four hours journey back to Lagos. I had only opened my eyes a few times before the bus finally arrived Oshodi, a popular motor park in lagos. The noise woke me up and I realized we were in lagos already. I didn't know how I felt to be back in lagos, the feeling I had was mixed. I felt like I was returning to a cage as we were returning home, at the same I time I had missed the city. Lagos city had a way of sucking you in,the energy was different.There was a lot of movement and hustle and bustle that generally made you feel like you were watching a drama unfold.

I also had to go to school,if I wanted to escape the clutches of poverty and lead a better life. I felt if my parents had been educated then maybe I could have grown up like other kids who didn't have to be subjected to child labour like the way I did. I usually tried not to blame my parents for my situation,but when I had to blame anybody,I blamed them.

I was back at home in Lagos, it was two weeks more before school resumed, so I continued delivery of goods to Aunty Mary's customers after which I would go hawking.

Hawking was difficult for me because everyone in school knew I lived in the Ikoyi area of Lagos state and it was the belief of everyone that people in that area are either rich or middle class income earners, so there would have been no need for children from that area to hawk on the streets. I didn't live with my parents but I hadn't told anyone at school that,I felt it wasn't something to be hammered on. Whenever I was in the streets and sighted any of my school mates, I would quickly hide before they saw me.I felt that I had an image to protect. Above all, I didn't want to be looked down upon by my school mates.

Ever since I had gone to see my father's grave, things became tougher than it already was. I got beaten everyday because most of the time my Aunty's customers were always having one complain or the other due to my absent mindedness.There was no time at all for me to rest except at night when it was time for me to sleep. My guardian believed that I must be kept busy all the time, so there was no space at all for me to play with friends at all throughout the remaining days of the holidays. I stopped growing physically and nobody cared that I was losing weight. Even when I was down with malaria symptoms , I would be told that I was being lazy until when I could no longer get up from bed. I didn't allow all of these break me, I wanted to just grow up and have a beautiful life so I didn't want anything stop me.

Few days before the school opened, I spoke with Aunty Mary about my lack of textbooks and how difficult it had been to borrow books. I was going to the second class in the senior secondary school, which was a step in the preparations for the last class of the senior secondary when I would sit for the senior secondary school certificate examinations.She got so mad at me and told me there was no money to buy any textbooks except notebooks and if I was tired of going to school I could stop going.

I was sixteen years old by the resumption to the SSS2 class. I was no longer a little child, but a teenager. I had begun practicing how to make my own decisions and even keep secrets.My grades kept dropping due to the lack of textbooks and study time .Still, I tried to do my best.

While I was struggling in school ,my Aunty's business was booming.This was due to the delivery system we had of taking goods to the customers instead of them coming to us.This system also made me start going late to school,I never made it to any school assembly throughout the session.I woke up at 5am everyday to take supplies to the customers with the wheel barrow,by the time I would finish with my rounds,fatigue would have set in. I could no longer concentrate in class because of the heavy work I did at home, but I kept on trying.

When the third term exam came I thought I wasn't going to pass but I managed to put in my best and to my surprise I made it through to SSS2 with just a tiny line standing between me and failure. This time around I didn't have to go seek help from the Reverend , all records were accurately taken and none of my classmates had issues with their results.

By the time I concluded SSS2, I was already looking forward to what to do to save myself from the life that I was given. I already understood that the way I was being treated was not right. And I began to think of a possible way to defend myself anytime my cousins were asked to beat me. Deacon was the only one who always tried to defend me at home and made sure that everyone did the right thing,but he wasn't always around. In August 2001,the cold hands of death took him away from us and it felt like my world had shifted again.

Deacon was the only one who cared and ensured that I went to school. One of the reasons I was studying hard was because I wanted to impress him and made him know for sure, his decision to send me to school was appreciated. Everything I learned, he taught me. He thought me to be honest in all my dealings, he also thought me to respect people because he believed that one way or the other everyone is special. He made sure he taught us all how to be kind to people and live a life worth emulating. Deacon was a good man and he was godly. He supported a lot of people including family members as best as he could.

I remembered how people in the neighborhood who couldn't afford medical bills would come to him for free treatment. Deacon James was well loved.The whole family including church members, his colleagues at work and neighbours at home travelled down to his hometown for his funeral.

I had lost two important people in my life, my dad, then my uncle , it felt unbearable but life had to go on. I became very concerned about what the future held, because Deacon was the champion of my education,he had promised to pay my tuition through the University and suddenly he was no more.I wept uncontrollably.