She came tattered, battered
and unkempt, with fear plastered all over her face.
Her body language wasn't any
different. She was like a rag –
uncared for, trampled upon
used and dumped by whoever she once lived with.

In fact, all her earthly belongings including few pieces of worn-out clothes came in a ragged bag she says were all her grandmother
could afford for the journey to Lagos.

At first, worry or is it anger
gripped madam, and the question that kept plaguing her mind though unspoken, was "where did mama get this rag from?" It took a number of days for her to wake up to the reality that this little girl from wherever she came
from, would henceforth work
as her maid, run her errands,
and worse of all, stay with her
children when she's off to work or wherever. Her mother read her thoughts very clearly.

"But the girl is here, you've got to live with her, take her as your own child or forget your job and manage your home by yourself" Her mother counseled.

"Mama, this girl is just a child", she retorted. Yes! Her mother shouted back, "but she's not so young either.

She's ten years old". "That's
incredible. How can this girl be ten? She's so tiny for her age, what can this one do? She can't even speak English".

Again, madam's mother really
getting angry now, at the top
of her voice queried, "what
do you need her to speak English for? Speak Igbo to her or teach her English or better still, let's take her back to her village. Her mother wouldn't like it, but I'm sure her grandmother would be happy to take her back." If you know where this girl is coming from, you'll spare her all these
trouble. She's here already.

Let's see how it goes". Her
mother counseled again. This
time a bit calmer.

From then on, Nnenna
became a member of madam's household. But Nnenna's story is pathetic.

She was born out of wedlock,
and her father denied paternity leaving her to the mercy of whichever wind blew her. Her young mother was barely old enough to cater for a child let alone cater for herself. I'm told
baby Nnenna looked very much like her father, but the man simply refused to take responsibility or accept he owned the pregnancy.

What to do? As soon Nnenna
was weaned, her mother sent
her to live with her elder sister in Port Harcourt, the Rivers State capital in Nigeria.

Life in Port Harcourt was far
from pleasant for Nnenna. Her aunty was a woman about town who simply had her own life's challenges to worry about than worry about a little girl whose father was irresponsible enough to deny paternity.

For many days, when she was
about her business, Nnenna
would be left in the care of
neighbours and anyone who
cared to pity a wailing and
sometimes sick and under- nourished child, or by herself.
That was Nnenna's lot. She
waded through life not knowing what next or where help will come from. She was just a number that never counted.

By the time Nnenna was four
years old, she hadn't seen any school, attended any school nor had any form of education or learning because her aunty didn't
care. After all, why would she care for a child whose parents didn't care or didn't want alive?

Nnenna's case was really pathetic. Year in, year out, this was Nnenna's lot. Abandoned, rejected and forgotten by an aunty everyone believed would
have given her life.

As we always say, "God moves
in mysterious ways, His wonders to perform". One day, a relation from home came visiting unannounced, and when he beheld Nnenna's malnourished state, he wept. "How can..

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