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|The Abandoned Child by DOMAWOLEYE(m): 12:38pm On Feb 25, 2016|
Happy new year to you guys! I wish you the best in all you lay your hands this year.
I have a book I am just wrapping up, as usual I would appreciate your comments and constructive criticism. The title is not too strong as far as I am concerned and will appreciate suggestions on the title.
I will update weekly or twice weekly as my tight schedule permits
Respect to y'all! Divepen I owe you!
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|Re: The Abandoned Child by DOMAWOLEYE(m): 12:40pm On Feb 25, 2016|
The abandoned child
By Dominic Awoleye
All writers and readers on nairaland Literature forum. Thank you.
All rights reserved.
This story is entirely fiction. The names, characters and Incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s Imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental. The author asserts the moral right to be identified as the Author of this work.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any written, electronic, recording, or photocopying without written permission of the publisher or author. The exception would be in the case of brief quotations embodied in the critical articles or reviews and pages where permission is specifically granted by the publisher or author.
To the loving memory of Mrs. Juliana Awe, my mother inlaw.
|Re: The Abandoned Child by DOMAWOLEYE(m): 12:48pm On Feb 25, 2016|
Part 1: who am I?
Part 2: Off to the big city
Part 3: University of technology Owerri
Part 4: Life after school
Part 5: The real world.
Part 1: who am I?
Curiosity got the better of me as I stood about three poles distance from the obscure house that stood in solitude from every other building in the town, the mystery about the house needed to be unraveled, but by whom?
many that have dared into the heart of the house did not come back to tell the story, those that managed to get inside and come out alive cannot talk about it because they lost their vocal cords, they can only point their fingers at the building and shake their heads sadly.
Two years ago, some kids had wandered into the house while hunting for rodents in the surrounding bush, a Rabbit ran into the house and one of the lads in his quest not to let go of the kill, chased the Rabbit into the house, and he was immediately followed by a second child, the third child stopped in the heat of the chase as he remembered his elder brother that entered the house a year before was yet to come out of it. He shouted at his friends to come out of the house but was too late.
He heard sharp and piercing screams coming out from inside to house, he did not wait to see the cause of their pain as he fled the scene stumbling in the bushes, running into ant hills and tree stomps. He charged out of the bush screaming, he was visibly scared and shaken, when he was held down by some adults, he was only able to tell them what the heard from inside the house when his friends ran into it before he was choked. As he was trying to narrate his experience his tongue kept coming out from his mouth until he could speak no more. He was abandoned there as everyone fled fearing that whatever had befallen the boy could affect them also. The boy died on the spot where he was abandoned with eyes wide opened and his mouth covered with the biggest tongue size anyone could imagine the little boy possessed.
The mysterious disappearance of the two and the eventual death of the third boy led the village hunters to venture on an expedition to uncover the mystery of the house, they went at night with the hunters touch light, Dane guns and various Charms prepared by the Village Chief priest, “Baba nla”.
Five great hunters fortified with charms and dangerous War armament went into the house and till today they are yet to return. Their families are left desolate and heartbroken even as some still think their father would return someday, but the villagers know better than being hopeful.
The gruesome stories about the Alabi’s house is unending and every family had to warn their children from straying close to the house, whenever we went to stream to swim or fetch water, we watch the lone house from afar and take to our heels before anything happens to us. we had this eerie feeling that some imaginary force could pull a child from the track road to the house and the next thing will be the piercing scream from the child.
Alabi used to be a very notorious thief that ravaged the whole town and neighboring village, he led a gang that set up road blocks along the high way that tore through our town and rob unsuspecting travelers of their valuables. They were murders and kidnappers, there was no police station in the village except for local vigilante team made up of our local hunters, but they were in awe of the dreaded Alabi gang.
It was later agreed between the gang and the hunters that the gang would not torment the Villagers and the villagers should also let them be.
Alabi, the leader of the gang had come to our village as a cocoa merchant buying dried cocoa seeds from house to house with his measuring scale. At the end of every week he took bags of cocoa seeds to the big city for sale, he was rich, and he was well respected by all. He also lends out money to people on interest, he married two women from our village, he married two friends who bore him six children within four years, we were told he was actually courting one of the girls, and was planning to marry her, having met with the girl’s family for marriage proposal, but somehow, the girl’s friend who followed her about as the two girls seemed inseparable like Siamese twin, became pregnant, we were expecting to hear of her marriage to the owner of the pregnancy but we did not,
Alabi married his fiancee traditionally by paying her bride prize; she also became pregnant for him.
The wife’s friend eventually put to bed and she gave birth to a split image of Alabi! There was confusion in the small town as the news spread like a wild fire that Aduke has had a baby boy for the husband of her best friend Larape. That was how Alabi married Aduke also and they lived together in his newly built house on top of the hill, the fame of Alabi spread round the village, and surrounding environs as the young rich cocoa Merchant that has his house close to heaven and married two close friends.
Within four years, Alabi had six sons from in two wives; he had about five Bicycles with which he and his assistants go about buying cocoa seeds from farmers
I happen to be one of the village’s little urchins, I lost my grandma four years ago at the age of nine, I had returned from school to see her still sleeping in her mat just the way I had left her before going to school in the morning.
I went into the hut we used as kitchen and saw the mess was still as it was since last night, no food waiting for me, I did not eat to school and I did not eat at school so I was starving, I changed my clothes into my worn out Buba and sokoto and left the house to look to food, I did not bother to wake grandma, she might have eaten some food before going to bed, it is all man to himself in the house. I did not know my real mother, and I did not care to know her because grandma uses everyday of her remaining life to curse her, especially when I have been up to my mischief, grandma would swear and curse my mother wherever she was, so I definitely knew that it could not be well with her where ever she was, for no living human being can succeed in any endeavor having his or her mother wake up every day and send curses to her instead of prayers and blessings.
I heard my mother had returned from the big city some thirteen years ago with me as a baby and a week later she had abandoned me with her Mother and disappeared.
Her mother, my grandma was blind in one eye and arthritis has seized her left leg so she stoops and walks about with a stick, she does not farm, she does not trade, so she had to survive on charity and my mother came to add me to the old woman’s burden.
People say my grandma bore only my mother when she was serving a big man’s family in the big city years ago. She was never married and had led a rough and careless life in the city before she lost an eye while fighting with a fellow woman over a man, the bad eye had left her unattractive to men and consequently she had to return home to the village when she became broke in the city, she returned with her ten years old daughter, my Mother, and before long, she became the mistress of all the widowers and randy men that want to satisfy their lust, her daughter joined in the trade eventually and when she came of age she had to leave for the big city to do what she knew best, she never came home to see her mother, until after eight years when she came and dropped me in the village.
On this faithful day, four years ago, after I changed into my Buba and Sokoto, I went into the nearby bush to check the snares I had set the previous day. Seven of my twelve snares caught bush rats, I collected the catch and went to mama Mulikat’s Buka to sell five of them, she paid me in cash and I bought some cups of Garri out of the money, I bought vegetable and palm oil and headed home to prepare some food and soup.
The food and soup was set, the aroma from the rat meat in the soup was supposed to wake grandma from her sleep as usual but it did not. Even when I finished eating and cleaning the kitchen grandma did not wake up.
It was time for me to hit town and play with my friend and I told sleeping mama that I would be back.
I went straight to the market square with my nylon bag and as I had expected, I met Ajanaku and Sola already there with their bags too, these boys do not go to school like me so they beat me to market square today. The market is set every three days, people from surrounding villages and ours bring their wares to sell at our village market, the next day they all move to another village’s market, I greeted my fellow scavengers and I left them as I saw their bags were already bulging with goodies.
Goodies? Yes! We pick up anything edible that the traders throw away, ranging from fruits to food stuff. Rotten tomatoes, withered vegetables, infected mangoes or pawpaw. We move towards the butchers stand and pick bones from beneath their tables. It used to be competition between us and the local dogs at the butcher’s end, once a butcher is cutting up a bony piece of meat, the dogs and us stand in readiness to dive for the bone once it is thrown away, I had been bitten a number of times by Pharaoh the most notorious and strongest dog in the village. Pharaoh is easily the father of eighty percent of the dogs in the village.
We always pray for the Butcher, to mistakenly throw away the actual meat instead of the bone. Sometimes our payers are answered.
At the close of market on the fateful day I went back home at 7:00 pm with a full nylon bag, mama had not moved from the sleeping position, I emptied my nylon and boiled my collection of bones and meat fat, I turned this into my vegetable soup and the pot was full. I was happy, I was happy because when mama wakes up and sees what I have prepared in the kitchen, she will be happy too and say nice words to me at the least for a while before I commit another offence that would make her curse and swear at my elusive mother.
I washed up the fruits I gathered and I cut off the bad portion from the pawpaw as I ate it up for dinner, the rotten tomatoes and withered vegetable will be taken care of by mama before I return from school the next day, at least we will have food to eat until the next market day in thee days time.
I went to sleep with a full stomach. It rained that night and I dreamed of bathing and playing in the rain, I dreamed that I was urinating in the rain as I was bathing, when I woke up in the morning my mat and cover cloth was soaked with urine. At thirteen I still wet bed once in a while. I packed up the mat and cover cloth and spread them on the line behind the house as I dressed up and dashed for school, mama had not changed for her sleeping position, she did not even snore as usual and I wondered why.
I returned from school later in the day to see a crowd gathered in front of my house, I was not allowed in to see mama immediately, they said she had died and maggots were already in her mouth and eyes, the women were cursing and scolding me for not realizing that my grandma had been dead for over two days and I have been sleeping under the same roof with her corpse. Every one present had an unkind word to say to me. I later went into the house to see mama as she laid in state. The youths had dug a grave by the side of the house and she was unceremoniously buried at mid night, I did not cry, I was simply indifferent. It was when I went into the Kitchen after everyone had left that I realized that my pot of soup was empty and washed clean. The fruits and vegetables were all gone! That was when I ran outside and started screaming and shouting. Some people came to hold me and sympathize with me but I ran from them, they did not know why I was screaming. This was some years back
Aduke and Larape became the bane in the life of Alabi, the one time best friends became sworn enemies, Larape will not forgive Aduke for her betrayal while Aduke hated Larape for her selfishness. She ask's 'which woman will see the opportunity of marrying a well to do young man like Alabi and not fall for it'? After all polygamy is not taboo.
Competition started among the women. Larape indicated interest in selling “Adire” local fabric, she travels to Abeokuta to make her purchases and she hawks her wares around the city and she had a shop where she displayed her wares on market days, she also visit other villages on their market days.
Before long Aduke also started the same trade, making Larape to be mad. First it was marring her husband and now she had ventured into her trade. Why not choose another trade Larape had challenged her when she first saw Aduke displaying clothes in a new shop at the market square.
Selfish woman! Selfish woman! Was all Aduke kept shouting.
Larape sold off all her clothes and in two weeks, she stopped selling clothes. She left the business for Aduke.
The both had three sons each and were ready to have more it not for Alabi that stated running from his wives, he had not planned to have six children in such quick succession but for the women in his life that were trying to out wit each other.
Larape started to go round the village collecting money from traders daily for savings and paying them their money upon request or at end of the month after deducting her commission. She uses a bicycle for her trade; she was called ‘Iya alajo’. Mother of thrift.
no sooner had she started the business than her fame went viral throughout the neighbouring villages. she had to extend her coverage area to as far as four communities that share boundaries with us. She employed two other women as her assistants she was also a money lender, like her husband, she was notably very rich as could be seen from the glow of her skin and the expensive ‘Aso oke’ jewelries, shoes and bags that she wears.
Aduke’s clothes business did not thrive. It collapsed after six months as the rate of debtors doubled and she did not have any money to continue the trade.
If was when she eventually ventured into the thrift business that everyone known she was really a trouble brewer.
But Larape was far gone into the business, to feel the impact of Aduke’s entry.
Aduke could only muster a handful of clients and after one year in the thrift business, She began to spread malicious rumour about her mate using diabolic means to support her business.
An old woman once asked Aduke to explain how Larape is being diabolic when she collects your money daily and pays it back when due without failing, she advised Aduke to stay off the scandalous path she was taking and mind her own business.
Things took a drastic turn when robbers stormed the house on the hill on a fateful night, that night Aduke took her children to sleep in her father house, the thieves’ carted away bags of money belonging to Larape and Alabi. Alabi was supposed to travel into the inter-lands to purchase cocoa seeds by the next day, Larape was supposed to start paying off her clients their dues the next day being the last day of the month, a lot of money was in the house, and as if taking all of money was not enough, the thieves stabbed Larape to death and carried her three children out of their beds and dumped them inside the well full of water Alabi was beaten to stupor but his life was spared.
Our people have a saying that “when the witch cried at night and the next day, a baby is dead, every one would know it is the witch that killed the baby” so it was obvious that Aduke had a hand in the tragedy that took place in Alabi’s house.
That was how Alabi became a dare devil that tortured the village for two years before he met his own end too.
After he recovered from the hospital, Alabi went to his house and strangled Aduke to death, he then took Aduke’s three children and dumped then in the well when they were asleep. He disappeared for two month, only to resurface with his gang, and they began to terrorize the village and other communities.
The first operation they carried out was to Baba elemu’s palm wine shop and killed Aremu and his three friends who had suddenly come into mysterious wealth, Aremu was a relation of Aduke and he was a small scale farmer but had suddenly bought a motor cycle and started wearing new and expensive clothes, he also started to drink and throw money around. In a small village like ours, we know everything about everybody.
He was drinking with three of his friends one evening at Baba elemu’s when Alabi went there unmasked and shot them at close range on their heads. They died instantly spilling the gray matter in their heads all over the palm wine parlour.
That was the night Alabi the Cocoa merchant changed his name to Alabi the Terror! Alabi became the law in the village, he killed without thinking twice, if someone owed you money and refuses to pay, tell it to Alabi and he will get your money for you while your debtor will either be hospitalized or dead.
Alabi’s only friend was a wicked native Doctor called Oloro, he was very popular with his evil charms, he lived alone with his wife at the end of the village before entering the sacred forest, there has never been light inside his house even at night. rumour also had it that he had sent his children away to school abroad. Alabi’s relationship with Oloro made people to fear him the more as it was rumored that Alabi was capable of vanishing in the face of danger and that bullets cannot penetrate his body, he was mostly feared because of the fact that he had nothing to loose, A man that could kill his wife with bare hands and drown his own children is a man with steel for heart and poison as blood.
Alabi did not stop at killing Aremu and his friends, he went on to wipe off Aremu’s wife and children, he killed them all in one single night and burnt down the house, about thirteen people were killed is the inferno that gutted the Aremu’s house.
Aduke’s family ran away from the village, every of her relation left the village for fear of being killed by Alabi. Alabi was like a raving mad lion looking for a kill, it is only the children that do not run when we see him because he gives us gifts of cash and sweets or chewing gun, he moves around with his gang all on motor Bike’s and he was our hero!
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|Re: The Abandoned Child by joanee20(f): 8:04pm On Feb 25, 2016|
|Re: The Abandoned Child by Missmossy(f): 6:01pm On Feb 28, 2016|
|Re: The Abandoned Child by rofemiguwa(f): 6:21pm On Feb 28, 2016|
Oga dom weldone o!
Wat of the other story won't u finish it for us??
Continue!! We dey ur back.
|Re: The Abandoned Child by Brozo1: 12:16am On Feb 29, 2016|
Happy new year. Its good to have you back Domawoleye. The way you coined your words in the first paragraph struck me hard. Its the beginning of another great piece from a good author.
|Re: The Abandoned Child by DOMAWOLEYE(m): 9:32pm On Mar 02, 2016|
After the death of grandma, I was left alone in the world. No one really cared if I existed and my elusive mother was yet to come home. Uncle Ladi a bus driver that shuttles between Ekiti and Lagos told me when he saw me scavenging at the motor park that he saw my mother at ‘eko Idumota’ and told her that her mother was dead and buried, he said my mother had screamed and feigned to be touched and she vowed to be in the village the next day. That was four years ago, she is yet to come home. Uncle Ladi says he still sees her in different parts of Lagos city but she avoids him as much as she could so he now pretends not to see her whenever their paths crossed. No one knows what she does in Lagos, but we know she is alive.
I continued schooling, I continued hunting and I continued to scavenge to survive until I finished my primary education. There was no plan for furthering my education, I was contented with the fact that I could read and write at least.
My only friend was Pharaoh the dog! We became friends the day we were both involved in a brawl at the butchers end in the market. Our prayer was answered when a butcher carelessly threw away a chunk of red meat instead of the bone in his hands, I had beaten Pharaoh to pick up the meat and tucked inside my pouch but the dog would not accept defeat as he grabbed my khaki pouch with his teeth and we began to struggle for possession. The dog was snarling revealing dirty brown incisors dripping with sticky saliva. I held unto the pouch with both hands as I used my legs to kick at the dog, I was shouting at him to let go and accept defeat because I beat him to it. As if the dog understood, he let go and I took to my heels homeward.
I had run for about four minutes and I stopped to trek when I heard the sound of panting Pharaoh by me side wagging his tail and jumping to reach my pouch, I took to my heels again and Pharaoh followed me home. We ate together that evening after I had cooked egusi soup with eba. I dished his portion into an old plastic plate I found in the kitchen. He ate up, lapped up some water from the bucket full of rain water outside the house then he lay down and slept at my door.
That was how Pharaoh became my friend and companion and together we went hunting and scavenging. We were a formidable team when we got the butchers stand, whatever Pharaoh picks, he brings to me and we put our spoils together and go home to enjoy a sumptuous meal. We also went hunting at nights and early mornings as well as check on my snares and traps, we sold our catch to the Villagers operating local restaurants called ‘Buka’. We buy food stuff with the proceeds. I had no future ambition so I took each day as it came.
On a Sunday, I decided to turn the house inside out and upside down, it was my house and I needed to know all the contents. The rubbish in the house was more than the valuables therein; I was gradually turning into a mad man without realizing it. It was a three room apartment without a toilet or bathroom. I grew up taking my bath at the back yard and I do my toilet straight in the bush where the villagers dump their refuse. That is where the pigs of the village get their break fast and maintained their robust stature. As early as 6.AM it was common to see many youths and adults positioned at different angles of the bush doing their thing, the pigs are grunting and patiently waiting for us to stand up so they could lick up the pebbled we have dropped. Some impatient pigs would actually eat up the pebbles from the butt of a little boy before it dropped to the ground. It is from these pigs that we all contact Chiggers that eat up the skin beneath our toes or between the toes. When ever one is scratching between toes furiously, it was common knowledge that that one has contacted chigger. The parasite burrow deep into the skin and live on our blood, growing bigger by the day.
I enjoyed and actually looked forward to being pressed in the mornings so I could go to the bush and hope some girls my age could come to the bush at same hour so I could catch a glimpse of their round bum. I used to marvel at the roundness and smoothness of their bum and wondered why that of the boys seems so hard and battered with craw-craw and scabies. Woe betides any girl that her bum was discovered to be like that of the boys, her reputation in the village would be ruined.
At a stage in our lives, the girls stopped coming to the bush. They resorted to using the ‘short put’ method. They defecate into nylon bags or newspaper and throw into the bush in the morning or at night. So it was common to wake up in the morning and see nylon bag at your back yard or news paper that has been scattered by pigs while eating up its content leaving the green fleas to mop up the rest and deposit maggots on the paper. Such discovery is followed by loud raining of curses on the perpetrator and his lineage born and unborn. It was mostly girls that dropped these parcels in front of peoples house’s probably because they cannot go close to the bush at such unholy hour or because they saw a male who has been wooing them, they quickly dropped the parcel wherever to avoid embarrassment.
You could also be unfortunate in the early hours of the day while doing your thing in the bush; a flying wrapped newspaper of nylon bag could land on your head spilling its content all over you! Your day is ruined as there was no way you could leave the bush without meeting one or two persons.
I remember the night I heard an unusual sound in front of my house. A twelve year old girl Modupe had squatted in front of my house to do her thing, unfortunately she did not expect to meet Pharaoh. Pharaoh had sneaked up to her and yawned, waiting for her to finish so he could clean up the mess. She was frightened and she screamed and stood up holding up her gown with her pants still down and the pebbles on the ground. She stood rooted at the spot for fear of being attacked by Pharaoh.
I came out with my palm oil lamp and beheld a half unclad girl shitting in front of my house; I looked her over with the lamp: Modupe! What are you doing? I asked.
I am sorry! She said shaking amidst tears and staring at Pharaoh who was agitated with anxiety to mop up the ground before another dog or a pig comes around.
I took the lamp downwards and beheld her unclothedness, I went further to see the shit she had already dropped on the floor and I laughed. I laughed out loud enjoying my catch. This is a girl that acts as if she is from the city simply because she sometimes follows her mother to Ibadan to buy wares for her shop. Some evil thoughts crossed my mind that night because she was at my mercy, but I was like an orphan in the village, I knew my limits. I let her go. I told her to clean up her self and leave and never repeat such again. She did not clean up even though she had paper in her hand for that purpose. She hastily pulled up her pants, stepped over her shit and as Pharaoh took charge of the pebbles, she fled crying more out of shame of indignity.
Grandma had a lot of junk in her room, I did not know what she really owned because we were not best of friends, I always saw myself as a burden to her. Another strange fact was that grandma never cursed me; she would rather curse my mother.
I brought out five heavy metal boxes from her room. The room had been closed for four years and had become very stuffy with dust and cob webs. I opened the boxes and beheld beautiful clothes I never saw her wear, one box contained twenty bundles of unsown fabrics. These would definitely worth some good money so I kept them back.
The fifth and smallest of the boxes was locked with a key so I had to use my cutlass to hack it open. I held my breath when I opened the box. It was full to the brim with crispy naira notes, in a trinket box embedded between the notes is assortment of gold jewelries. I closed the box and ran out to bolt the front door from within, even though I hardly entertained visitors or friends, my instinct just made me to close the door.
I went back into grandma’s room again and opened the box, the money and jewelries were still there. At that instance, I lost every desire to proceed with the clean up exercise I had embarked on. I simply pushed back every box into place and went out for a stroll with my dog
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|Re: The Abandoned Child by DOMAWOLEYE(m): 11:54am On Mar 05, 2016|
Thanks Brozo. Glad to know you got my back.
|Re: The Abandoned Child by DOMAWOLEYE(m): 9:12pm On Mar 20, 2016|
We strolled for about forty minutes before we came to the track road opposite the house of Alabi, the house on the hilltop, the sacred house.
Curiosity got the better part of me and I decided to venture into the house that night, I was with pharaoh, my only companion in life.
The feeling to reach the house was so palpable that I could touch it, so I started to step towards the house, under the cover of the dark, I bent down and crawled towards the house, pharaoh did like wise and together we approached the house a step at a time.
My heart was pounding, I could hear my heart beat, Pharaoh seemed exited as he was panting and wagging his tail excitedly.
After about fifteen minutes of crawling in the bush, I got to about ten(10) yards from the front door, the door seemed closed. The door always seemed open from afar, rumour had it that the front door was always open and inviting.. I waited.
The wind blew and rustled dry leaves all around me, I was scared, I was sweating even though the atmosphere was cold, something moved in front of the house, it was an animal and before I could stop him, Pharaoh was in pursuit. he ran out of my sight in pursuit of the animal, I put my face on the ground against my hands as I wondered what I was doing here, I had just discovered some money in my house plus jewelries and clothing that would fetch me some money and here I am, on a suicide mission?. What if I die today? Well no one would miss me I thought, and pharaoh can always get another master.
Pharaoh dashed past the front of the house and barked sharply as it chased the animal that looked like an antelope.
Then something happened!. The door to the house opened, it opened slowly that I almost did not know it was opening until I saw the ray of light from a burning lamp in the house, the door closed immediately before I could decipher what I was seeing or if it was a figment of my imagination. I remained rooted where I was; I closed my eyes tight and opened them to focus properly at the door. Alas! Someone was there, he or she stood silhouetted against the wall, but I could make out the frame from the cloth he or she wore, I could here the sound of my own breathing, I wanted to stand up and run but my legs became boneless, I could not move a muscle, I simply laid there and waited for death.
Pharaoh was coming back to me dragging his kill with his teeth, he was midway between me and the house when he dropped his kill and started moving towards the house snarling dangerously.
There were movements and of a sudden Pharaoh was upon the man in the shadows, he was biting and tearing while his victim was screaming incantations, the man in the shadow got up and ran in two circles at the front of the house before running into the house closing the door behind.
I saw him, it was Baba Oloro!, the famous native doctor friend to Alabi.
I picked up the warm Antelope Pharaoh had killed and together we ran madly out of the bush that night.
At the age of fourteen, most of my friends were in secondary school while others were learning different trades and acquiring various skills. I was still living with Pharaoh without a future ambition, I get up everyday and go hunting, perhaps I was a hunter, I do sell some of my spoils at times, I was not allowed to use the Dane gun because of my age, so I use the traps I set and my dog as weapons.
The money I saw in mama’s box was still there, I do not really know what to do with it and because we were not friends before she died, I felt her spirit could haunt me if I misuse the money.
Five months after the incident at the house on the hill top, the children of Baba Oloro came to my house and killed Pharaoh. Pharaoh was sleeping peacefully under the cashew tree beside my house when the eldest son of Baba Oloro beheaded him with one swift, he put Pharaoh’s head in a bag and said it will be used to appease “Ogun” the god of iron. They accused Pharaoh of biting their father on his way to his farm and infected him with rabbis and tetanus, they threatened to kill me if I make further trouble.
It was like a dream, why is everyone close to me leaving me alone in this world?, my mum, my grandma and now my dog!, I was just tired. I could not do anything. I was an Orphan and a desolate one at that. I mourned the death of my dog the way I never mourned the death of anyone I ever knew, I felt so lonely in the house without Pharaoh.
I began to wonder why Baba Oloro had lied about the venue of his encounter with Pharaoh. Baba Oloro died two days after Pharaoh was killed, it was Modupe’s mother that ran to my house and dragged me to her house so that I could escape the wrath of Baba Oloro’s children, she said the children were on their way to my house.
They went to my house but did not meet me so they left after destroying some part of my house. I was with Modupe’s mother in her late father’s house for fourteen days before I came back to my house. Modupe’s mother happened to be a childhood friend of my mother, her husband was killed during an inter community wrestling competition, his opponent killed him with bare hands by dealing repeated punches to his stomach, he was left gasping for breath till he died on the pitch at the village square. Modupe’s mother did not remarry; she focused on her business and on training her three children. She took me in as a son and advised me on the way to go about my life, she was shocked to realized that I had no future ambition and I was shocked at her attitude because no one ever showed such care towards me.
Modupe was already in form three in a secondary school at Ibadan, she comes home during the holidays, she told me a lot about school and encouraged me to endeavour to go to school, it was while she was encouraging me to go to school that her mother interjected and reminded her that there was no money for anyone to send me to school. I remembered grandma’s money and I told her that I have a lot of money left by my grandma.
After spending two weeks with Modupe, I went home with her to see the extent of damages done by Baba Oloro’s children, it was superficial, we went straight to mama’s cash box, it was intact, I upturned it’s content so as to count the money, beneath the money was my picture as a child and a note written by my grandma that the money in the box was for my education. In case she passes on before I entered secondary school. That was the day I mourned my grandma, I cried like a baby, how could I have known grandma had such love and plans for me? In the midst of her sufferings and sickness she still had plans for me, in the midst of the hunger and wretchedness she kept her window’s mite for a better future for me.
Modupe tried to console me, she cried with me too as we counted the money. We counted until we got confused at the total amount. I went to Mama’s grave and begged for her forgiveness for all the pains I had dealt her in her life time, I begged her for everyday she had hungered and thirsted for my sake, I beg her to forgive all my pranks and wickedness I had meted on her. If grandma had not died, I would be in my third year in the secondary school. The money in the box could see me through five years in a standard boarding school!
Together with Modupe, we took the money to her mother and explained the note and the picture found beneath the box. She contributed her own portion of tears as she blessed the old soul of grandma five years after her death!
We decided that I go to my former school and collect my first school leaving certificate and testimonial. I went there at the resumption of school and some teachers were laughing at me when I told them I needed my credentials to further my education. Mr. Makinde even joked about my wanting to sell the certificate to a more ambitious person. I simply told him that it was my property and I needed it for keeps.
In my quiet time, I ruminated over the house on the hill top and the mystery surrounding it, most especially why Baba Oloro was there that night, a place dreaded by all, and why anything didn’t happen to me and Pharaoh having been that close to the house.
Alibi and his gang had all vanished into thin air mysteriously after a heist that they carried out at national Bank in Akure. The operation had brought armed police men and soldiers to our small village looking for Alabi and the gang. For six months the gang was living in the farm house of baba Oloro deep in the forest, it was known to the villagers but no one could tell the police.
After six months, we started noticing Alabi’s presence in his house only at nights. On a fateful night, there were sporadic gun shots and screams coming from the house on the hill top, we thought the police had finally caught up with the gang. People that went to the scene the next day said there were shallow graves freshly dug and the motor bikes coupled with blood stains littering the compound. That was the last we heard of Alabi and his gang followed by the strange attacks on anyone that ventured into the house. We also noticed that the Motor bikes disappeared over the years and grasses took over the compound.
What most of the villagers did not notice was that Baba Oloro suddenly came into wealth over the years, he withdrew his children from the village school and sent them to school in the city. Even his first two sons were rumoured to be schooling in the white man’s country.
I now understand that only a juju man like baba oloro can manipulate malevolent spirits to attack people as had been happening in the house on the hill top so as to scare people from getting access to whatever was hidden therein.
Pharaoh attacked Baba Oloro because dogs could identify evil spirits.
That morning I told Modupe and her mother about my thoughts and we took my story to the police station at Ado Ekiti. After listening to my story, the police accompanied us with an escort pick up van to the house od late Alabi. After the search, huge sum of money in crisps naira notes were discovered locked up in one of the rooms, it ran into millions on naira bearing the band of the national bank Akure.
The bank rewarded me with a scholarship throughout my education and an awaiting job upon graduation from the university. The Ondo state government gave me a reward of two hundred thousand naira and promised to rebuild grandma’s house using cement block. I was also given two plots of land out of the reserved portion of the community land.
Suddenly I became a celebrity, I was loved by young and old and I had many friends.
I was almost sixteen years old when I left the village for the first time. I left for Ibadan to start from form one in the same boarding school Modupe attend.
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|Re: The Abandoned Child by CuteTolex(f): 12:31pm On Mar 21, 2016|
what a beautiful piece, weldone Domawoleye
|Re: The Abandoned Child by DOMAWOLEYE(m): 11:48am On Mar 24, 2016|
PART TWO (OFF TO THE BIG CITY)
I handed the cheque given to me to Modupe’s mother as I have taken her to be my Guardian, she would put the money into her business and train me and her children with it.
It was in 1985 that I was admitted into Apata Grammar School in Ibadan as a boarding student. I was sixteen years old and in form one, Modupe was fifteen years and in form four, she would graduate the next year. It was not easy trying to cope at school, my age mates were in form three and above, I had already sprouted a moustache, and my legs were hairy, this made me become a subject of discussion in the school, I clearly stood out amongst my classmates, and sometimes they mischievously refer to me as uncle Bolaji.
I was made the class prefect on the first day at school, it was on the assembly ground that the school principal spotted me lined up with form one students, he shouted on top of his voice at me, he said I should leave the line and go to join my mates, he was pointing at the senior students line. The whole assembly rocked with laughter until a teacher went and whispered something to the principal, he then waved the students to a silence and apologized to me publicly, he then asked me the alphabet of my class. Class one B sir I replied. Good! From today, you are the class monitor! He announced and there were shouts of uncle ‘B’ everywhere.
Life in boarding school was totally different for me. I had being a free bird all my life, I had lived without bounds or rules and regulations, it was a different ball game here as I was made to wake up at 5.30pm every morning. I was forced to observe afternoon rest daily at 3pm; I was to go to Sunday church service at the school chapel. I had never attended a church or mosque in my sixteen years of existence. We were given portions of food without caring if the ration will satisfy you or not and you cannot ask for more food if you are not satisfied else they tag you ‘Oliver twist’
Another challenge I had was that I was too crude and uncivilized, my ways were strange to my fellow students, I was a raw village boy who not speak good English and when I try to speak English my accent made it sound as if I was speaking Jamaican ‘patua’, people laugh whenever I open my mouth to speak and I always had reasons to speak because I was the class monitor.
Mr Adegoke was my English teacher and he took special interest in my reformation, he does not laugh when I commit blunders while speaking, he was quick to correct my errors and made me to correct my self by repeating the words correctly, he personally gave me a book titled”Common errors in English” and gave me home work on it daily. Once he called me into his office and encouraged me to be focused and positive, he said I was catching up fast and I should not take any of the aspersions being cast on me seriously. He said he believed in me. He was the first human being to challenge me and dared me to succeed if I can, he told me that age was just a number and that once I am out of secondary school I will realized that age means nothing at the university or the larger world, he asked after my parent and I told him my story. He then told me that I could rewrite my story if I try, he said he was an orphan too. His words of encouragement moved me and I secretly vowed to succeed in life by becoming more serious and determined
Kareem was nine years old and in the same class with me, he calls me ‘egbon’ meaning ‘elder one’. I told him severally to stop calling egbon but he refused. He said he could not bring himself to calling me by my first name because I happen to be the same age with his eldest brother, his father’s first born who was a first year student at the University of Ife, his brother is older than three other persons before him and he reveres his eldest brother. He finally agreed to be calling me ‘Uncle B’ since that has been like a nick name.
He was the smallest and smartest in the class and he helped me a lot and in return I protected him from bullies. Every potential bully in the school left him alone the day I slapped Joseph for beating up Kareem at the school farm during Agric practical.
Joseph returned to school the next day with a swollen face and people thought it was because of the slap I had used to send him out of the school farm the previous day. The students had formed a circle with Joseph and Kareem at the centre while they cheered the duo to fight. Kareem was never a match for Joseph or anyone in the class. Kareem was lanky and feeble by stature while Joseph was an Igbo boy that eats fufu three times daily without drinking much water! He was very stout with a barrel like chest. He was sitting on Kareem’s stomach and stuffing dried grass into the poor boys mouth when I came into the farm. I broke the chain formed by the students, lifted Joseph off Kareem and dealt him a blinding slap over his eyes, it was someone else that shouted in pain instead of Joseph himself for he ran blindly out of the farm stumbling and shouting ‘anya m o! (My eyes!)
The Joseph incident increased my fame in the school and another ‘alias’ was added to my name ‘Ifoti to gbona’ (hot slap) so the senior students called me ‘ifoti’ while my mates called me ‘Uncle B’ and all these happened in the first term of my first year in school.
At the end of the second term in form one my grade was better than the first term. My total average score went up from 53 to 76 percent. I got a ‘C’ in English language and an ‘A’ in mathematics.
Kareem was a wiz kid! His average was 98 percent, he got an A in all subjects but Yoruba language where he got a ‘B’. I got a ‘C; in Yoruba language even though I spoke the thickest Yoruba in class and knew every adage in the language even more than my teacher.
We went for the long vacation of 1986. Modupe and I rarely saw at school because I did not like to be in her company due to inferiority complex. I could not bring myself to call Modupe ‘senior Dupe’ as every junior does. We were from the same Village and I was older than her.
The few times we encountered at the school sports arena, she had tormented me by speaking to me in good English instead of using the ekiti dialect that we were both brought up with, of course she got the good laugh she wanted when I attempted to speak with her in good English also. She even had the audacity to refer to me as her school son once. I warned her in a language only the two of us understood and walked out on her.
Our relationship at school affected our closeness when we went home on holiday. I did not return to her house. I went to my grandma’s house and cleaned it up. I went and met Modupe’s mother to give me some of my money for my upkeep, she refused, and she said I should e coming to her house to eat daily. I was about seventeen years old and a boy of my age needs some change in his pocket. She said she had put all of my money in a fixed deposit account at the bank and was not due for withdrawal. I was happy.
Modupe has a boy friend. The boy was already in the university, he is from our village and my age mate. He is the son of the ‘Balogun’ a high chief of our village.
Akindele drives his father’s Peugeot 504 Salon Car whenever he is at home and he comes to take Modupe out daily.
I used the holiday period to develop the two plots of land given to me by the community. I planted maize. I was on my way home from the farm one evening when Akindele drove by and stopped to give me a lift home as the farm was about one hour trekking distance from the Village. Modupe was in the car with him and she prevented me from entering the car, she said I was sweating and smelling. She said I was half way home already and would be better I continued trekking. She told Akindele to drive on. I saw the look of confusion on the face of Akindele but I thanked him for his gesture and I continue to walk home with my hoe on the shoulder and my Cutlass swinging in my hands. She was right! I was sweating and smelling, and I was actually half way home
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|Re: The Abandoned Child by Fijumokesayo(f): 8:13am On Mar 26, 2016|
I like the fact the you're ready to rewrite your story, don't give up...... I hope mama dupe is not trying to play a fast one on the poor boy, I will personally beat her myself... Lol! ...... Well done sir Doma, this is lovely and I will follow it to the end.
|Re: The Abandoned Child by Brozo1: 1:09am On Apr 17, 2016|
Sir Domowaleye, how have you been? We need update please. Sorry I have been gone for long jawe
|Re: The Abandoned Child by charijee(f): 8:00pm On Apr 17, 2016|
|Re: The Abandoned Child by DOMAWOLEYE(m): 7:25pm On May 22, 2016|
We resumed school in October 1986 for the transitional term in preparation for the new 6334 academic system promulgated by the federal ministry of education. This implied that we would be staying 6 years in secondary school instead of the former 5 years but those students already in forms 4 and 5 would graduate after five years. Modupe would graduate this session.
Modupe was appointed the Girls senior prefect of the school and my friends were congratulating because of my supposed affiliation with her. I could not really tell what I did to Modupe that made her change towards me, I have thought it over without any clue so I decided to keep my distance from her to avoid further embarrassment.
There was a day Modupe was going from classroom to classroom with her cane in hand looking for noise makers or any non conformer. She entered my class, I was discussing an assignment with Kazeem but we all stood up and greeted her. She waved the class to sit down and she pointed the cane at Kazeem and I.
You two! Stand up! Come out here! She commanded
We went to the front of the class
Why were you two disturbing the class? She asked
Senior, we were not disturbing, we were working on an assignment! Kazeem replied.
Shut up! Big head! She barked. Do you do assignments with hands or your mouth? Oya, the two of you, go and kneel in the sun kia! Kia! (Quickly) she commanded.
There was a soft wave of murmuring in the class room.
What is it? She asked the class; or do you all want to go outside and kneel with them? She asked
Yes! Yes! The class chorused. Uncle is our Class Monitor and he does not make noise! Someone dare to say amongst the students.
Who is talking? Come outside this minute! Modupe commanded angrily.
It was Joseph that came out, the boy I slapped sometime ago.
Oh! You have the guts to talk any how to me abi? Modupe queried.
But senior, the class was quiet when you came in, and even if uncle B was talking, it was on a low tone and moreover, he is our class captain! Joseph explained.
By the way, who is uncle B? Modupe asked him, though she knew he was referring to me.
Uncle B! Uncle! The class chorused, pointing at me.
Modupe turned to face me; she poked my chest with her cane.
Hey! They say you are uncle B! Are you not ashamed of your self? Your age mates are in the university and here you are with the age mates of your children! And you are happy that they call you uncle! Agbaya lasan lasan! (Old fool) my friend, go out! Go out and kneel in the sun with your hands up in the sky! She screamed as she flogged every part of my body with the cane. We ran out of the class onto the open field and quickly knelt down. Hands up! Hand up! She was upon us flogging frantically. We obeyed even as we tried to block the canes with our outstretched arms.
Where is that other foolish one that has a big mouth to talk to me any how? She screamed as she charged back into out class room. She flogged Joseph out of the class to out kneeling position.
Common kneel down! Kneel down! You know how to talk abi?
Joseph joined us weeping and writhing in pain.
She did not come back to release us until the close of school when students were rushing to the assembly ground that my English language teacher saw us and told us to stand up and proceed to the assembly ground.
There was another instance when some of us came to class in the morning. The school’s time regulator was the duty prefect and she told us to kneel down as punishment for coming late. Modupe came around and saw that I was amongst the kneeling students: she immediately summoned the Labour prefect and instructed him to take us to the school football field with our Langalanga (long flexible cutlass) to cut grass through out the day. We missed classes that day.
Severally I contemplated confronting Modupe to ask her to forgive me in whatever form I have wronged her but anytime I see her, my heark beat skips and I scurry away before she sees me. My social life in class 2 was very poor and bitter because of my fear for Modupe.
I also recall the day she disgraced me in the presence of the whole school during our monthly “social night” gathering that holds in the school hall every last Saturday of the month. I was representing class 2 in the “Mr. Macho” competition and have scaled two rounds of screening already.
It was my third and last round of flexing muscles and posing amidst cheers and cat cries from the students. I was sure of victory as my shiny body glistered under the florescent bulbs that laminate the hall. We had rubbed our bodies with Vaseline jelly. After my act, I got a resounding ovation and I was all smiles until it was time for the oral interview. The judges of course were a selection of school prefects. I was given a wireless micro phone to answer questions directed at me.
It was the social prefect that asked me the first and only question that shattered my night.
Bolaji! Aka uncle B! He called and the hall went agog again chanting uncle B!
He gestured for the students to calm down and he continued; if you win the 1000 naira prize for this competition and you are told to give it to any girl of your choice in this school, who would be?
It was a simple question and I answered quickly;
Of course I would give it to my sister the SP girls!
Modupe got up from her seat and walked briskly to snatch the microphone from the social prefect.
Who is your sister? She asked me: are you okay?
SP! I said calmly, are you no longer my sister? Are we not from the same village?
Look! Look! Look! She countered, pointing at me; I know where I am from o! I know my village very well. My father told me everything about my lineage before he died and you or your family was not mention by my father! Look! I know my father and I know my mother! Do you know yours? Answer me! She challenged, do you know your father or your mother?
I was answering her but the words did not come out as I took the microphone to my mouth to speak. My tongue felt glued to roof of my mouth. I desperately struggled to say something but the words weren’t coming out.
Oh you can’t talk abi? She continued; please for your information and to set the records straight, I am not from the same town with you! You were brought from Lagos at birth by your prostitute mother and dumped with your retired prostitute grand mother before your mother ran back to Lagos to continue her profession! True or false?
The whole hall went wild with laughter. She handed the microphone back to the stunned social prefect. I wished for the earth to open up and swallow me as I stood there in shame wearing only a boxer and crying with my glistering face. It was Kazeem that came from the crowd and pulled me back stage. Once back stage I broke down and wept like a hungry baby
You brought this upon your self uncle B! Kazeem said.
How? I asked crying
You know this girl does not like you! Couldn’t you have called any other girl in the school or any of our class girls? Why someone whom you and I know hates your guts? Kazeem asked
Kazeem, how am I to know she resents me that much? I did not do anything to Modupe that would make her humiliate me so badly. Do you know that the fortune my retired prostitute grand mother left for me is with Modupe’s mother? She invested it in her business. I gave her my everything so she could be a mother to her children and me. Her mother and mine were child hood friends.
I also gave Modupe’s mother the reward our state government gave me for helping to recover some stolen bank money. During the last holiday, I asked her mother for some money but she told me my money was put in a fixed deposit and was not mature for withdrawal. She said she put my two hundred thousand naira in a fixed deposit account! What about the raw cash my granny left for me that she invested into her business? Couldn’t she spare me some pocket money while I was on holiday? I did not pry further because I felt she may not have physical cash with her. I had to work as a hired labourer in other people’s farms in other to have some pocket money while on holiday. I wailed as I explained all these to Kazeem. Ha! See how Modupe finished me publicly in my unclothedness!
I did not return to the stage, I wiped my body dry with a towel and went into my class room to think about certain facts about my life. Like, who is my real father? What is my real surname? Where is my mother? What does she even look like? Why did she not look back and come for me after all these years even after being told that her mother had died? What does she think had become of me? Does she have other children? Who really am I?
Those were the questions I asked Mr. Adegoke my English language teacher when I narrated my experience on the social night to him in his office on Monday morning during recess.
He felt so sad and expressed his disappointment at modupe’s attitude towards me. However, he gave me some words of encouragement. He told me not to focus on all the negative issues in my life, he mentioned some notable citizens of the world and Nigeria in particle who had very terrible childhood. He encouraged me to try and re-write my story so that my children will not go through what I have gone through in life. He said to me “Bolaji, you do not have any one in this world except your self” the only way you can change your story is to be the best in all that you do! “failure is a bastard but success has many relatives” you must succeed! You must pass your WAEC in flying colours! You must go to the university! You must graduate with first class honours! With these, you will get a good job! When you get a good job and you are comfortable then you will see another face of the human specie! Once you are successful, you will realize how important you will be! Every one that has mocked you will swallow their words shamelessly! Even the so called Modupe will worship you and she will apologize for all she has done to you. She will try to justify all the wrong she did you. That is human being for you. But do not allow Modupe to shatter your dream rather let it challenge you. I bet you Bolaji, when you become someone in life, your elusive mother will go through the desert to reach you! Bet with me! He gave me his right little finger, I gave him mine and we betted. He gave me a pat on the back as he stood up and walked out of his office. I have a class to teach after the recess, he said.
Mr. Adegoke’s words were like the balm I needed to heal up. I made up my mind then to be more close to Kazeem so he could help me to improve in my academics.
By the end of class 2 I passed with an overall average of 88%. I got an A in English language and a B in mathematics
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|Re: The Abandoned Child by Osaze20091: 11:13pm On May 22, 2016|
Bro,this story is just too interesting,more grease to your thumb..ride on cos we got ya back
|Re: The Abandoned Child by Brozo1: 4:35pm On May 24, 2016|
Nice story line Domawoleye, but more updates please.
|Re: The Abandoned Child by DOMAWOLEYE(m): 12:10am On May 25, 2016|
I997 I was 18 and in JSS 3 (junior secondary class 3) according to the new academic calendar. Modupe had graduated from our school and was waiting for her WAEC and JAMB results to proceed into the University.
During the last long vacation, I had gone to meet Modupe’s mother and told her about all that transpired between Modupe and I in school. I recounted as many embarrassing episodes as I could to her and finally I told her that I need my money, all of it.
She said she had invested everything in her business and I should give her time. I told her I have given her three good years already, she was not training me in school because I was on full scholarship. She does not buy me anything nor gives me pocket allowance. I hustle for my pocket money! How can I have money with her yet she could not spare me some from time to time?
I was still discussing with her when Modupe walked into the sitting room accompanied by hey boyfriend Akindele. The mother told her to sit down and she narrated all I had told her to her daughter.
It was Akindele that first reacted.
Dupe is it true? He asked her surprised
Is what true? She countered
All that Bolaji said about how you treated and humiliated him at School is it true?
Why are you acting up Akin? She had challenged him: would you believe what this bastard told my mum or you would hear me out first!
What? Akin was shocked; I did not hear you well, did you just call Bolaji a bastard? Is Bolaji your age mate? Are you this rude? Akin queried
I can see you are already taking sides! No problem, judge me! Judge me Akin! She said and began to sob. Akin lost his guard and pulled her into his arms; I am sorry, he said; I didn’t mean to scold you that way. Then he turned to me
BJ, he called; how dare you come here and fabricate lies to mama? What is your motive? He asked.
I shook my head in disgust as I rose to my feet; listen all of you! I want you people to listen to this bastard very well; I want all of my money that I gave mama to keep for me! For the past three years, this family has been feeding fat on my money yet you call me a bastard! I am a bastard but my money is not a bastard abi? And you Akin! I feel so sorry for you; see how easily your senses are confused by your girl friend! You can’t think straight as a man and proffer justice! This girl will put you into trouble someday because you are not in control of her. You dare challenge me and took sides with Modupe after all she did to me? If it were my old self I know what I could have done to you! You know me nah! Don’t you? Have you forgotten what I did to you while we were in primary four? I can still do it again! I can still beat you up and stuff your mouth with dried shit like I did years ago! You stand here and asked me stupid questions instead of admonishing your spoilt brat. You no dey fear face? Well, mama I will be going back to school next week and when I return during the holiday, I want my entire money ready in cash! I walked toward the door on my way out of the house.
Look Bolaji or whatever your miserable name is! Modupe called: water, they say finds its level! Go and find your level! I am not in your class! I will not bring my self so low as to banter words with you! You are like a pig! No matter how well you are washed, you will always go back to the dirt. Agbaya lasan lasan! Uncle B my foot! Look Bolaji, I beg you in the name of whatever you hold sacred, don’t ever come near me or my family again! It is my mother that has been making me to tolerate you all this while o! I wish the children of Baba Oloro had beheaded you the way they beheaded your dog the last time! You would have been forgotten by now! Stupid local champion! If not for my mother that saved your life and accommodated you in our house you would have been dead by now and you have the effrontery to stand before her now with disrespect over a paltry amount of money she kept for you! Ingrate! If not for my mother and I, would you have left the boarders of this village let alone attending the same school with me? Now you can speak English language and you think we are on the same level! She clapped her hands as she hurled abuses at me.
I was stunned watching her heap insults at me and no one stopped or cautioned her. When she paused for air I quickly chipped in a question at her; Modupe, where and how did I wrong you? Why so much hatred for me? Please tell me so I can apologize to you!
I don’t want your apology! She barked: I hate you! You are a pig! And she stormed out of my presence into her room.
Once again I went to school and told Mr. Adegoke about what transpired in the village during the holidays. I told him about my money in Modupe’s mother’s custody.
Hm, I have my fears, he said; I have my fears about the possibility of you getting your money back. If she does not give you the money when you go back home, you may have to involve the police in the matter. I can smell sabotage, I forsee mischief, he said; but in all of this, whatever happens, I want you to keep your head up and don’t loose focus on your sole objective of making it in life! I want you to brace up to the challenges life will throw at you. Life is not fair! He said; I tell you the truth my boy, life is cruel and human beings can be terrible! I will advise that you brace up for dark days ahead because I am sure you have been swindled by those women!
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|Re: The Abandoned Child by nimat158(f): 5:23pm On May 25, 2016|
Thanks for d updates
|Re: The Abandoned Child by DOMAWOLEYE(m): 11:33am On May 26, 2016|
I buried myself in my studies in preparation for the junior WAEC examination. I did not go home during the first term holiday; Mr. Adegoke invited me to spend the holiday with his family in Ibadan. I enrolled at an intensive tutorial class during this period and I was able to cover all lost ground and even studied topics ahead and outside the schools academic curriculum.
I was smoking hot when we resumed back to school, as everything taught was not new to me. I was asking and answering questions as if I was Kazeem. At the end of the final exams I cleared all my subjects with ‘A’ and a ‘B’ in Yoruba language. Passing my junior WAEC in flying colours sure made me very happy as I was the second overall best student, Kazeem cleared all ‘A’s and was the overall best.
I went back home to settle scores with Modupe and her mother as per my money, I had resolved to collect the money and relocate permanently to Ibadan.
I got the rudest shock of my life when I got home to find out that Modupe and her family had vanished into thin air. Their house was deserted. I went to enquire from the owner of the house and he said he does not know their whereabouts, he said as long as they were not owing him any rent, they are not his business. I went round the village looking for them to no avail.
Modupe’s mother is not an aborigine of our community so she could have relocated to her village, but no one even knows her Village, we all knew her to be an Ijebu woman but which of the Ijebu’s? No one knows. It was like coming to Nigeria to look for a Nigerian woman that swindled you abroad and all you know about her is that she is Nigerian!
After a week of searching with the police, I gave up hope of ever seeing them again, coupled with the fact that the Police men were beginning to exploit me in the name of helping me. I was paying for the fueling their Car; I was buying food for them and giving them tips daily as we drove to places where we hoped to get information about the Modupe’s family.
I went back to my house and brought out all grandmas’ boxes of clothes and jewelries. I took the contents to each market day and sold until I sold off all that was left by my grandma. I raised seventy thousand naira from her jewelries and clothes that I sold. I locked up the house, carried my luggage and travelled back to school to resume in senior secondary class one (SS1). That was in 1988 and I was 19 years old.
Welcome to the real world Bolaji! I saw this coming when that woman started giving you lame excuses about your money. I knew something was amiss! My dear, no one gives a damn if you are an orphan or if you are somehow incapacitated, whether you are duped or swindled, no one cares! You are even lucky you could still raise some money from your grandmas’ properties! Even with the little money with you, you are still better off than millions of people in this country! Some people will still rob you off that money with you after listening to your pathetic story. My boy, this world is a battle field!
I was expecting to hear consolatory words from Mr. Adegoke but these words of his were strange and it left me confused.
My boy! He continued; it is all left to you to make a difference! To change your story and your situation! Life is like a relay race competition, grab your baton and bolt! Don’t look back! You may stumble and fall! Don’t look back! The facial construction and determination of the other mans’ face may scare you and you loose hope in your own ability! Even if you fall, even if your baton drops, pick it up and continue the race! Remain focused, gun for the finish line tape and ensure you complete the race!
He paused in his pace to and fro the office, and then he looked at me with an expression I could not interpret
Bolaji! He called
Do you know you can make a difference in this world?
Get an education! Never back down! With education, you can make a difference in today’s world!
But sir, how can I get an education with what has happened to me! I have narrated my ordeal in the village to you; I have lost all hopes of survival financially. The scholarship granted to me only covers tuition fees alone.
Hmm, Bolaji! Do not focus on the problem any longer, it will build up negative energy in you and that can destroy you. Don’t allow what happened too confuse and throw you back to the dirt’s Modupe said you always fall back to! You will never be able to forge ahead when you wallow too long in the wilderness of negativity and impossibility, in the abyss of sorrow and disappointments! Then you will be stuck down there!
Free your self my boy! They may have stolen your money but not your brains! They may have cheated you but you still have a chance at life! You are alive my man! Use your brains! Sometime ago you could barely speak English! Sometime ago you could barely solve a simple mathematical equation! Sometime ago you could not eat with a set of cutlery except your bare hands! But look at you today! You are refined; you are one of the best students in the school! My boy! Show the world that you are born to succeed! Get an education at all cost! If you must slave to get an education, then slave it! If you have to hunger and thirst to get an education, then so be it! My boy! You have got potentials and I do not want you to blow it! If you have to be humiliated, abused and trodden upon to get an education, face it! As long as it does not kill you, you shall overcome.
Bolaji stand up! He snapped.
I stood up! I was charged. I felt goose pimples all over me.
Say after me Bolaji; I will succeed!
I will succeed! I replied
Say it like you mean it! I can’t hear you!
I will succeed sir!
No! No! No! You are not talking to me! Say it to Bolaji Afolabi! Say it to yourself, you will succeed!
I will succeed! I will succeed! I said repeatedly beating my chest and meaning every word of it and that instant, I made up my mind to let go of the past and move on with my life taking each day as it comes but with a determination to be the best.
I moved into Mr. Adegoke’s boy’s quarters during the holidays and I attended extra tutorial lessons. I was a science student. My friend Kazeem opted for the social sciences because he wanted to be an accountant like his farther. I wanted to be an engineer so I stuck to the pure sciences.
My senior secondary school years were very engaging as I buried myself in my books. I continued to be the class captain and in SS3 I was made the school’s senior prefect. I represented the school in all academic competitions and we excelled. My spoken English improved tremendously and I lost a lot of my Ekiti accent, though not totally.
Mr. Adegoke combined farming with his teaching profession, so during my holidays, I assisted him in the farm. He had a daughter and a son who were still very young and were in primary school. I was like a younger brother to him and he offered me shelter, food and protection. He was not super rich, but he was comfortable, he was also studying on part time at the University of Ibadan for his post graduate degree.
I continued to top my class, I was an overall ‘A’ student and when I wrote my senior secondary certificate examination (SSCE) in 1990 (The first set to write SSCE) I was very hopeful of a good result. After my SSCE I was living with Mr. Adegoke helping out in the farm and working part time as a teacher at the Tutorial School I attended. I was teaching junior classes and SS1 students.
My joy was full the day Mr. Goke came back from work and brought out a sheet of paper from his bag, he stretched the paper at me grinning from ear to ear. See your result! He said; my heart beat skipped an instant as I held my breath and clasped my hand over my mouth in shock. I was scared but for the smiles on his face, then he said congratulations my boy! You made me proud. I quickly glanced at the paper and all I could see was ‘A’ parallel! Even in yoruba language.
You are the overall best he told me as I leapt into his opened arms. I know you could do it! I know you could do it! He said patting my back as I cried for joy.
His wife came out and saw us; she collected the sheet of paper from me and glanced at it.
Jesu Christi o! She screamed; ‘A’ parallel! How come? Come! Come! Come! She hugged me and congratulated me. Wow! Congratulations BJ! You are indeed a genius! She said. My joy was indescribable. What remained then was my JAMB result. I had opted to study electrical and electronics engineering at the federal university of technology Owerri (FUTO). Mr. Adegoke said that FUTO was one of the best universities to study electrical engineering in Nigeria. I was optimistic that I would also do well.
Two months later, the result of the JAMB examination came out and I scored far above the cut off point for electrical and electronics engineering department.
The day that Mr. Goke brought home my admission letter from his mail box was the day some banks in Nigeria were announced to have gone distressed and it included the bank that granted me scholarship from secondary to university level, and even promised me a job upon graduation.
All the branches of the bank in Ibadan were sealed up. Security men were detailed at the banks to prevent people that have converged at the banks from having access to the few staff available at the bank. Mr. Goke took two days off work and together we travelled to the head office of the bank at Akure city. We met some officials at the bank and when we presented my case, we were told that the bank had seized to exist as a corporate entity, in other words, the bank is dead! The bank has no obligation to anything or anybody until the courts say otherwise. We returned to Ibadan exhausted and disappointed. Even Mr. Goke for the first time since I met him lacked words to use and encourage me as I cried. He allowed me to cry.
It was hard to imagine how my hope that was raised so high was squashed and my life was turning into a quagmire of sadness and confusion. Where do I go next? What do I do? Mr. Adegoke was just managing with his nuclear family and still sponsoring himself at school. I could not afford to be an additional burden to him, he cannot sponsor me in school for he does not have the resources.
I fell sick; I was hospitalized and discharged after five days at the hospital. I lost hope, I lost appetite and I lost the zeal to move on. After struggling and burning my candles at both ends in order to gain admission into the university, here I am with no means to survive in the university.
I was fully recovered two months going when Mr. Goke woke me up from sleep in the middle of the night and told me to prepare to leave for Owerri in the morning.
He said I should take my destiny in my hands and move on to face the world. He brought out some money and gave to me. It was the money I realized four years ago when I sold of grandma’s properties. I had given it to him for safe keeping but I assumed he must have spent it all these years while taking care of me in his house.
Take this money and go to Owerri to claim your destiny! Do not allow any obstacle or force on earth to stop you from being the man God has made you to be. Just go and get your self registered first! Then look around you and find a means of survival. You could survive by teaching your fellow students and helping them in assignments and projects! Write to me regularly and let me know how you are doing, my wife and I will always pray for you. I do not have money to give to you but take my advice seriously and dare to succeed.
“Dare to succeed” that was why I left Ibadan the next day and travelled all the way down to the eastern part of Nigeria on my own. To dare to succeed!
8 Likes 1 Share
|Re: The Abandoned Child by kevwecute1(f): 9:27pm On May 26, 2016|
Wow I love this story can't seems to get enough.
|Re: The Abandoned Child by CuteTolex(f): 4:30am On May 27, 2016|
hmm, determination is the key. nice write up DOMAWOLEYE
|Re: The Abandoned Child by charijee(f): 6:48am On May 27, 2016|
This is superb, reasons I don't regret reading your stories, Mr Doma
I see Bolaji making it already
bqlekan, come enjoy this story with me
|Re: The Abandoned Child by Nobody: 11:14am On May 27, 2016|
Wow! What an interesting story. I am enjoying every bit of it, and can't wait for the updates. Kudos!
|Re: The Abandoned Child by bqlekan(m): 11:18am On May 27, 2016|
|Re: The Abandoned Child by charijee(f): 12:53pm On May 27, 2016|
bqlekan:Oya read on, it's captivating
|Re: The Abandoned Child by JeffreyJamez(m): 2:06pm On May 27, 2016|
...and you didn't call me...smh
|Re: The Abandoned Child by charijee(f): 2:12pm On May 27, 2016|
JeffreyJamez:Sweetheart, thought you had so many to read already, biko pardon me, you hear
Oya come siddon for my leg
|Re: The Abandoned Child by JeffreyJamez(m): 2:13pm On May 27, 2016|
|Re: The Abandoned Child by charijee(f): 2:16pm On May 27, 2016|
JeffreyJamez:I'm sorry na, have you read it?
|Re: The Abandoned Child by JeffreyJamez(m): 3:02pm On May 27, 2016|
Read it in 2mins.....it is indeed captivating and inspiring.
1 Like 1 Share
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