Chapter Ten

Abinla smiled, then she reached for her plastic school bag to get the medicine she had bought for her mother this morning after selling some plastic bottles on her way to school, she realised that her shabby purse had gone. She had wanted to give the men and women the only money she had as she was hopeful to make some sales before the end of today. 

 She panicked as she checked her plastic bag thoroughly, then the pocket of the school uniform she wore, and then she looked round the place. 'My purse is missing...I had one thousand naira in it. I want to give it to these men and women.' 

'Have we been burgled on the tour?' Bola said, chuckling. Then, from nowhere he lifted the purse and asked, 'Is this the purse you're looking for?' 

'You took my purse?' Abinla took the purse from Bola appalled at the thought of him taking her purse without her permission. She opened it and was surprised to see stacks of one thousand naira notes.

 'Give the money to the people, please. Look, I knew we would meet sick people on the way. So, I had to put the money in my backpack to help them. You can hate me all you want, but please, give them the money. They are in dire need of it.' 

Abinla wanted to give Bola back his money but then, she realised that these men and women needed money desperately. Sighing, she handed the money to Tariebi. 'Aunty, please.'

Tariebi nodded, taking the money after a long pause. Then, she walked over and handed the money to them. 'I know we can't give you enough but we hope these little tokens will solve a few things for you.' 

Abinla handed them the medicine, and said, 'Get well soon.' 

Tariebi, Mr. Johnson and the students passed little children playing on the streets, many with dirty faces and bare feet and runny noses. Some of the neighbours united in their sorrow, talking about having little or nothing. Some were seriously sick and needed urgent medical attention.

 Next, Mr. Johnson showed them many animals lying dead in the forest, and some on the streets. 'Forest has become quieter than centuries ago,' Mr. Johnson said, 'No more singing birds, only a few surviving birds crying in the forest.' 

'What about lions?' A boy asked in a hushed tone.

 'Human activities have erased most of the animals,' Tariebi answered with a sigh. 'The surviving ones are escaping to a gentler climate.' 

As if on cue, some animals were seen running away to a gentler climate that would not harm them. Most of the trees held no branches which birds could nest and serenade on, so they decided to fly away too.

Was this animal's world war? Abinla couldn't help but think as she watched the animals run to safety. What about the fishes? The surviving ones must have swum to other clean rivers.

Abinla's boots sank halfway up her calf as well as the boots of other students and the teachers, when they got to a muddy land soaked almost in oil. Their clothes were stained with oil. The most pitied was Mr. Johnson who was wearing white trousers, which had now turned into dark colour.

Looking ahead, they saw some Niger Delta militants boarding a van. The sight of the men loaded with arms made Abinla shiver. Lack of job and hardship turned these men into becoming militants. 

After they had toured for like two to three hours, Tariebi said to the students, 'As you all go home I want all of you to figure out the best ways we can help Abinla fulfill her dream paradise. In a simple sentence, find solutions that would help everyone savour the clean cold air we had lost.'

 With that, everyone headed homeward instead of going back to school. However, Abinla raced down to the pharmacy that she often bought medicines from. She had given out the last money she had and so there was no penny in her purse. Hoping for a miracle, she checked her purse again and never found any money. With no other options, she headed to the pharmacy, hoping that they would sell medicine to her on credit since she was their regular customer. 

She ran through the market, seeing young boys and girls hawking in their moth-eaten blouses and shirts. Most of their clothes were slipping off their shoulders. It was a sorry sight.

The pale-looking market women kept on calling customers to buy from them, hoping to sell all their produce, even though most of what they sold looked rotten.

Abinla smiled when she caught sight of a hawker tossing a twenty naira note at a beggar by the roadside. She could feel the smile that appeared on the face of the beggar when he picked up the money.