My Breakthrough from Poverty

By Alabi Peace I. Obafemi Awolowo University International School, Ile-Ife

I was woken early this morning, around the first crow of the cock, by one of the waves which I considered to be the heaviest. It had been drizzling since last night, but it got heavier as the minutes passed. I squeezed myself into a corner of the room, hugging my little brother tightly in fright.

I hate it when it rains because our thatch roof trembles like it’s going to fall and retire forever. I prayed silently this time because it seemed to be the heaviest rain I had ever experienced.

It seemed like I was the only one worried about the rain because my other siblings were sound asleep. Dawn came fast, and I was happy it did. I stood up, said my prayers, and went to bathe. I used the water I fetched from the village river yesterday. I knew I had to fetch water for everyone else, but I decided to bathe first.

I took the lantern to the bathroom outside our hut. I always wished that our lantern could be as bright as the electric bulbs I saw in other houses. I used to ask my dad when I was younger when we would have our own electricity, and he would always say, “Very soon, my dear.”

After taking my bath and dressing up, I grabbed my water pot and went to the river. I saw others like me also going to fetch water with their friends, but I didn’t have a friend, which made other girls gossip about me. I always thought they didn’t know how to gossip well, but I wouldn’t go into their midst and say, “You should learn to gossip without looking directly at your victim.”

When I got to the river, I began to scoop water into my pot until it was full. I carried it on my head and started heading home. On my way, I saw a girl and a younger boy dragging something I couldn’t describe. I thought it was one of those modern-day toys children played with and wished I had one if it was useful.

At home, everyone was already awake, starting their daily activities. I greeted my parents and dropped my water pot. I took a bigger pot and poured the water inside. The thought of going back to the river made me feel weak. I wished I had the power to make water appear instantly.

After fetching water, I took my food flask, which my aunt had given me during her last visit. Almost dropping it from my weary hands, I put it in my bag and began to march to school. I greeted almost everyone I saw, hoping that my greetings would be noticed someday.

At school, I saw different people of different sizes, grades, and ages jumping around like monkeys being chased. I smiled at a girl who almost slipped in the mud from the rain. Immediately after I dropped my bag on my chair, the assembly bell rang. I walked briskly, knowing that today was Friday, our sports day which meant fun for me.

After the assembly, sports, and fun, classes started immediately. We had English as the first subject of the day. Our teacher, whom we called “Mighty” because he often mispronounced the word mighty, was short and chubby. He came into the class with his whip, as usual.

After school, I walked home slowly. A few steps away from the door, I heard my father speaking heartily with someone whose voice sounded familiar. As I got closer, I began to recognize the voice better.

I opened the door to find my dad laughing together with my uncle, his brother. I greeted him politely. His presence never brought joy; it always meant that the oldest child in the family would be taken away, just like my sister Joke was taken away a few years back.

I knew it was my turn now, so I went straight to look at all the things I loved, knowing it would be my last look. It took me a while to realize that tears were dropping down my cheeks.

I went to my room and packed my loads, ready for my journey to Lagos. My dad shouted, “Abike, it is time to go!” I ran to my mother and hugged her tightly. I wished my younger siblings were there to see me, but they had not returned from school yet.

It was my first time traveling. The movement of the bus made me fall asleep. After getting down from the bus, Uncle Dayo walked briskly; almost running. He held my hand tightly, tight enough to break my bones. We walked carefully, avoiding potholes filled with water.

We slowly approached a house with brown roofing sheets. It wasn’t painted, and the lower part of the wall was littered with dirt, showing that it was often disturbed by floods. We entered the house – a flat people often called “Face me, I face you.” It had four rooms on each side and a long passage between them. My uncle entered the second room on the right side, and I followed him. The room was dirty, with clothes heaped in one corner.

He offered me a stool to sit on. I sat slowly and watched him. Resting my back on the wall, I slowly drifted to sleep. My sleep was refreshing, mostly because my dream was positive.

I woke up the next morning still on my stool. I saw my uncle preparing to bathe. He told me to get ready because we were going somewhere. I wanted to stand up, but a sharp pain in my stomach reminded me that I hadn’t eaten since yesterday. As if he read my mind, he said, “You didn’t eat last night. After bathing, I’ll give you a piece of bread before we go.” Then he left.

When we got to our destination, I carried my load on my head and looked sternly at the storey building before us, trying to imagine what it looked like inside. My uncle knocked on the gate, and a short, dark man opened it. “Dee Y! Welcome. Enter, madam is around,” he said, staring at me curiously.

We passed through several passages before entering a large room with five soft-looking sofas arranged neatly. A moderately fat woman sat eating fruits from a plate.

My uncle greeted her respectfully, and I did the same. The woman called out, “Sandra!” A girl about my age came out from one of the passages. “Show her where to stay,” the woman said. The girl signaled for me to follow her.

We passed a few doors. She pointed to one, saying, “This is the toilet.” Inside her room, there was a big bed with a pink bedsheet and two large pillows. By the wall stood a long wardrobe. She told me to sit, and I obeyed.

After my uncle left, the woman called me and asked for my name. She then introduced herself as Mrs. Williams and told me about her husband and children. Later, I went to my room and continued unpacking.

Sandra and I talked, and within a few minutes, we became friends. While we were talking, there was a soft knock on the door. “Sophie, come in,” Sandra said. A girl around five years old came in with another slightly older girl. They hugged Sandra and then asked, “What’s your name?” I introduced myself, and they did the same.

On Monday, I was enrolled in the same school Sandra attended. After school, Mrs. Williams came to pick us up. When we got home, Sandra and I cooked for the family and helped the children with their homework.

Things began to go well in the house, and everyone was so nice to me. Mr. Williams came home from a business trip and bought gifts for everyone. I began to excel in my studies and won different competitions for the school. I was good at English, while Sandra was good at Mathematics. This amazed Mr. and Mrs. Williams and made them want to meet my parents.

They planned a trip to my village to visit my family. I was overjoyed. I began to remember how my village looked and longed to see my siblings and parents again.

On Saturday, very early in the morning, we embarked on the journey to Ilugboro Village – my home. When we got there, I felt like hugging the trees. Our house had been newly roofed with aluminum sheets. I admired its beauty. My brother and sister ran to me when they saw me. Their shouts drew my parents’ attention.

When they saw me, joy was written all over their faces. I embraced them and called them outside to meet my “Lagos friends.” I told my parents everything about my life in Lagos and my success in school. I also advised them not to let my uncle take any of my siblings away.

When it was time to return to Lagos, I bade my family goodbye. I was happy to have seen them again.

The Williams family sponsored me throughout my schooling, and today, I am proud to say that I am now a chartered accountant.

I HAVE BROKEN THROUGH POVERTY.