Hmmm,so I saw someone posted this story in romance section.i decided to start posting it here .after those mods ban me .please I am not the owner of these wonderful story .

The Original author is Christian C. Uzor

The Takes Of Gbadebo

I had always looked at myself as a child of promise. Even my mom use to say it; That when I was born, the chief Iman of Ilorin came and prayed for me. He prophesied into my life that I will do well and achieve great things at a very young age. He also said that my parents will be elevated. But now am wondering what has gone wrong about those prophesies? What is holding them back? Why has it not come to pass. The worse part of it is that my dad died when I was 5. The elevation prophesy sef, even if say e come, na only my mama go come chop inside! Or maybe the gods are punishing my family because we later converted from Muslim to Christian religion!

All that were my thought. My heart was bitter. I just dey regret. Na who send me go write JAMB! Na who send me go even write the FUNAAB Post UTME! If I had known I would have saved that money and use it for better things as my mother had suggested. I no hear. Na so I use the money go write JAMB. And that would be the second time I was writing JAMB and passing through, yet no money for tuition fees. No money to further. I wrote one the previous year and choose University of Ibadan. I passed the Jamb but there was no common N3000 to process my Post UTME. Chaiiii, poverty bad. I encouraged myself. My mom had earlier said I should give up on going to school, that there was no money to see me through. Yes, I saw her point but I was hoping for a miracle to happen. I was just believing that I would just see a tree full of money and start plucking them. Or maybe meeting a helper that would say, “Let me just train you through your higher institution.”

I had saved up to N45, 000 the past year. I gave my best at where I worked just to see I save money for my school. My mom who was into Akara business. She had been complaining about her eye problem. Out of the N45,000, I gave her N12,000 to go for treatment. Money don short nah. But I was determined that I won’t lose that admission. I must enter university this time. No going back, whether money dey or not.
That was how my mom nearly closed down her Akara business that she was raising fund for me to go to school. She borrowed N27, 000 from the cooperative group she was. Plus the one I had. I went to Federal University Of Agriculture Abeokuta (Funaab), paid my admission acceptance fee, school fees and other fees. We never even start to dey talk accommodation sef. The guy I was squatting with had graduated and he was leaving the room the next weekend. I had earlier asked if he would leave some few things for me. He said he couldn’t, that he needed money badly so he wants to sell them. Even if the guy leave am for me, how I wan take pay for accommodation sef! He has really tried. I met him when I came to write my post UTME. I didn’t even know anybody in Abeokuta. But he was God sent. He harboured me for 4 days and I still came back, he was still harbouring me. He said the rent would be due the next two weeks.

So after paying the necessary fees, I had to go back home to sort myself on accommodation and feeding, refresh and come back to campus fully the next week to resume.

When I got home, things were not so good at all. My mom was down with malaria. I know say she go don dey think how she go take pay back the money wey she borrow from cooperative. And even her crumbling business, coupled with all the irony of life. I only had N430 left with me at that moment inside my pocket. I had to rush to the chemist shop to get my mom drugs. I called one of our relatives in Offa and updated her on what was happening to my mom.

3 days later, it seemed my mom was recovering gradually. I withdrew the last N5, 000 in my account and went to buy provisions and food stuffs. There was nothing much at home. At least, even if say person poor, that does not mean say we no go chop better food.

A day before travelling back to Abeokuta, I went to the place I worked before leaving. My former Oga wey like me wella. He gave me N2,000. I told him I was going back to school. Some of my paddies still dash me small money. I calculated everything and it amounted to N3, 450.

“Gbadebo! Gbadebo!!” my mom called. I was outside chatting with a friend when he called. I came into the room. “Gbadebo,” she said. “Ma,” I answered. She brought out some squeezed naira notes from the edge of her wrapper were she tied it. She handed them over to me. I counted them and It was N3, 500. “Kosi owo. Manage elei.” She said I should manage it that there was no money. Infact, she even tried. I couldn’t say anything. As I took the money, I went to bed to sleep, thinking of how my 4 year journey would look like in Funaab with my poverty condition.

The next morning, I arranged my only travelling bag, which doubles as my school bag. I only had few clothes which I inserted into the bag, with the only foot wear I had, my pam slippers, na im I go wear go back. “I am going to school.” person wey see me go think say I dey joke. Na only 2 trousers and 5 shirts wey I get I put inside my bag. I didn’t have time to buy many things because I was saving to go to school. The only mobile phone we had, a small touchlight phone. I had to leave it with my mom. I told her I would be calling from a business center. It was better for me that way so I could be reaching out to her rather than me taking the phone to school.

I looked my mom into the eye as I was about leaving for the park. She looked worried seeing me leave. “I guessed she was worried how I would cope.” I hugged her and left to the park where I would be boarding a car to Ibadan. As I entered one of the cars going to Ibadan, I wasn’t happy. My heart was filled with too many weird thoughts that I didn’t even know when the car got filled up, I paid and we left.

On the road to Ibadan, “I thought about my life.” After paying for my transportation, I was only left with N4,450. We never get to Ibadan ooo. I have not even talked about my accommodation. Where will I even stay? How will I feed sef? And I go even pay transport go school. As all thosewere flipping through my mind, tears ran down my eyes. The woman sitting close to me was the one that even called my attention. She asked what was wrong with me that I shed tears. And we were sitting at the front seat opposite the driver. I had to bring out my handkerchief from my pocket and whipped my face. I don’t even know what to tell the woman. I wished she was Jesus that could just take my burden away. Well, I told her that it’s just some family related issues that was making me shed tears. “Family issues keh!” she said. She spoke in Yoruba language. She asked what kind of family issue was that. I no wan tell her. One don’t just go around telling people their problems. I felt reluctant telling her. “Part of me said I should open up to her while another part of me said I should not. She seemed to be asking genuinely but she’s just a random person. Even if I tell her, will she adopt me or give me N1m.” I just told her that the money I was giving to for my school was not enough. Immediately I said that, almost every one inside the car busted into laughter. Part of me was like, “You see, you see wetin I tell you. You should have not told her.” I began regretting saying it out. The woman laughed uncontrollable in a mocking tone. “Is that the family problem,” she asked. She said there are some people their own case was worse so mine was even not a case. By then, I just wished she knew more about my own case. As other people in the car were talking, some gisting and telling stories of how their children survive in higher institution. I just ignored them. “No be their own e dey me sef. I went back into deep thoughts that I didn’t even know when we got to Ibadan. The woman beside me called my attention when she was alighting. She was kind enough to give me N500. I accepted it graciously and thanked her as she told me not to cry. She left. Well, N500 will definitely go a long way.

Na so I take car wey dey enter Abeokuta. It dropped me in a popular spot called “Camp,” a road leading to Funaab. The place I am squatting.

What next

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