Chapter Five

'Thank you.' Tariebi accepted the water, took a giant sip and handed the water bottle back to Abinla. Tariebi continued, 'Our once serene environment has disappeared following the exploitation and exploration of oil and gas. The river pollution affected my father who is a fisherman. Today, he is lying sick in bed, and each day, thankful for being alive. Our land used to be green but the brutal impact of oil has turned this place unbearable. Our main source of income is nothing to write home about. No more fishing and no more farming. Air, water and land have all been contaminated.' She shook her head. 'Bola, won't understand our plight. I think we need to take a tour so he would be able to understand the magnitude of the environmental abuse.'

'No way!' Bola objected.

 'You can't object because we will all take a tour tomorrow during break. Wear your boots to school tomorrow,' she said in a tone that brooked no objection. With that, Tariebi picked up a stick of chalk and wrote on the small blackboard, 'Climate Fiction.' She turned back to Bola and said, 'You should never judge anyone before walking in their shoes. Maybe after this tour, you will be sorry for today.' 

Bola smiled, looking down at his neatly polished black Louis Vuitton shoes. He was walking in his own luxury shoes, what does he need Tariebi's cheap shoes for? He thought with a shrug. 

 *** 

 The school day ended at two, and the students all rushed to go home, especially those who had businesses to do to enable them to put food on the table. Abinla was about to leave the schoolyard with her brother, but as soon as she saw Bola, she left Ayibaemi and strolled over to him.

Bola was tall, about 180 centimetres, and he looked handsome and elegant but also stubborn and spoiled. He felt that since he was from a rich background, no one has the right to tell him what to do. He wasn't even a student of Ogbia Comprehensive Secondary School. He had only come to stay a few weeks with his aunty. His aunty was friends with the principal, and because she wouldn't want Bola to waste the few weeks doing nothing at home, she decided to give the principal some money to allow Bola to stay here for a while since he was in examination class.

 Bola was a student of a renowned secondary school in Lagos State known to have the best teaching standard and the best facilities for learning. Bola, who was tall and handsome, was only seventeen years old, and the only child of his parents. He was born into a mega rich family. His family was among the top five billionaires in Nigeria. Anytime he was holidaying in any country of his choice, he travelled by private jet. Was being born into privilege the reason for his attitude? 

 'Bola...'

 'Why? Are you here to continue the Climate Fiction story? Don't tell me you believe you would build a paradise in just a few years?' Bola said in a loud mocking voice. 'Or do you want an autograph? Or maybe you want to preach to me like Greta Thunberg, Don't' just march people tell your parents to fly less, stop eating meat, grow trees, buy organic food, have less children, use public transport and vote for politicians that support green energy and divest billions in fossil fuels…#Climate…I won't buy it!' 

 'I need you to apologise to Aunty Tariebi. You were absolutely rude to her,' Abinla said sternly. 

 'Did she ask you to come to me and request for some money?' Bola spoke louder and arrogantly. 'Thankfully, you were not born into a military-political family, if not I would have been powerless.' 

Hearing this, Ayibaemi turned towards them and said to Abinla, 'We should get going please. Don't waste your time talking to Bola.'

Bola laughed. 'Your brother wants you home. You have plastics to sell, remember? If you don't sell them, you won't be able to eat tonight. So, go ahead.'

 'Why, are you afraid I would punch your back?' Abinla scoffed. 'You're only acting rich because your father is among the politicians that have sucked out our oil and plagued us with unemployment.'

'What's my business if your so-called oil-producing community reeks of poverty?' He pulled out his brown Prada wallet, and took out some one thousand naira notes and pushed them into her hands. 'I understand you need my sympathy. That would be enough to buy your sick mother medicine.'

 'You're good for nothing.'

 Bola scowled. 'You better take that back.' 

 'I won't! You're good for nothing!' Abinla repeated, angrier than ever. 'You think you can buy my integrity with money? What my people need is just to live a green, clean and beautiful life... Not to live like this. Some of us can no longer go to school because our parent's means of livelihood have been affected. Some have been forced to relocate...' 

'Go ahead and relocate. No one is stopping you. I'm not the government. Stop bothering me with your problems. You're a good actress. You should be in the entertainment industry and be an Oscar award-winning actress in future. Don't waste your time trying to change the world that you cannot change.' Bola turned to leave, and Abinla stopped him. She tore the money in shreds and tossed them at him.