TRUE LIFE STORY- Diary of a Poor Boy

By Ubaka Chijoke
The story started after an Encouter with a Little girl whom i saw on the road when I was on a traffic for close to twenty minutes, yes just twenty minutes but believe me, that 1200 seconds can look like a whole day to you when you have an important appointment to catch.

'Brother please buy groundnut', she beckoned me and got my attention. She was a hawker, haggard looking, should be somewhere around 11 and 13 years of age, and her tray had groundnut so big and heavy that I imagined if she will ever grow tall with this kind of early hustle. 'No dear I don't want to buy today, tomorrow I will buy', I tried to get her away.

The light had turned green and I was impatiently pushing my gear selector to the number one position, ready to move. 'Brother bikozienu, just buy even if you don't need it, just buy. Aga m emeziri gị ya ofuma biko', the little girl was still following me as my car was now making its way in minimum acceleration on to the express way. Hian! Why in God's name should I buy something I don't need? Where does such happen bikonu? Nnewi town, I remove pants for una ooo!

I thought I will just outrun her when my car gains momentum, but I was simply lying to myself, in fact there was no truth in me.

From the side mirror I could still see her beckoning on me with everything that makes her human; eyes, arms and even her heart. Yes, I could feel the emotion with which she was staring. I made a little stop over and fiaaam, she was at me again.

'Brother please my aunty will kill me if I don't finish selling this groundnut today, just help me and buy any amount. She always beats me whenever I come back with anything remaining in this tray, and I try everything possible to sell all, please don't let her beat me again'.. She was begging, pleading and beckoning me like before, just that this time around, she was in tears.

'Nne stop crying inugo, give me #300 own, I hope it will reduce the quantity a bit, other people will still buy', I told her, trying to console her as well. At that point, I wished I had enough money to buy all she had on the tray.

You needed to see the expression of the heavenly mixtures of joy and happiness in her. 'Eee, nke 300 cha, chai brother thank you, Chukwu gọzie gị brother'. She thanked and thanked till I was far gone, she was happy, she was glad.

But I was not, in all honesty I wasn't happy.
This poor little girl brought back memories of my poor childhood, I felt like crying as I reminisced.
My parents are poor, very poor to the extent that when people say they were not born with a silver spoon in their mouth, I laugh at them because I was not born with any spoon at all, wooden or clay. It was bad like that.

The uncle of mine that decided to see me through school made sure I paid back every single grain of rice that I fed on in the house.

As a growing child I slept everyday at 12am, sometimes 1 depending on when I have got the house chores to a minimum that I can continue at 4am...you can imagine. So I grew up with 4 hours of sleep everyday, no wonder I am not tall sef. Dare you talk about siesta, that one is a long thing.

Every Saturday and everyday during holidays, I carry a big tray, a very big tray that is even bigger than my destiny to the streets to sell just about everything sellable... Sachet water, oranges, banana, groundnut, moi moi, garden egg and groundnut paste, in fact, anything my madam deems fit to be sold was on that tray... I was practically a mobile grocery shop.

And just like this poor child I met today, I dare not come home with a single grain of groundnut on my tray. Days I tried it, I saw myself not having dinner, same dinner I prepared myself after heavy beatings. I really suffered.

Included in my already bursting schedule was flower seedling cultivation, I get empty water sachets up to 500 and cut stems of flowers for nursery. We don't have water in our house, as a matter of fact, I fetch the water every person uses in that house, but then I share my bucket of water with the flower seedlings. How my uncle thinks sef. And when the flowers start dying, everyday I receive thrashing in equivalent of how many plants that died, sometimes twenty, other times 10. On a particular day my village people joined forces with my uncle and his wife, fifty plants of my flower died. He didn't spare me a stroke.

In school I was known as the guy that doesn't buy textbooks, and I recycle exercise books more than Nigeria will ever recycle wastes. Before I get #10 for a new pen, I will produce the old pen I used and certify that the ink has totally finished. Failure to do so will warrant heavy beatings and no new pen. I begged my way all through primary and secondary schools. He will only pay my school fees at term ends, when I must have been lashed thoroughly and horribly, embarrassed and sent home severally even when he had the money to pay it from day one.

I do virtually everything in the house; from cooking, washing and ironing everybody's clothes, to farming, cleaning the house on Saturdays, to hawking and fetching the family extra income. I did just about everything! But my uncle and his wife never resisted the evil urge to beat the crap out of me at even the most slightest mistake.... A poor little boy same age as their last born. Yeah, my growing up was that bad!

Well today, I am proud of the man they [my uncle and his wife] moulded me into, cos I can't believe that there is any situation I cannot survive today. They fortified me for this life, though with the wrong intention and using the wrong means. Despite how bad school days was for me, I still made it through school courtesy of him. I was strong. I was beaten but not killed, I was bent but not broken, I was shattered but not doomed to die!


Advice
Dear Oga and madam, those children helping you in your homes are not slaves from Egypt, they are children of men and women like you. Their only crime is that their parents are not financially capable to cater for them. You must not pass them through crucibles and burning furnace to prove you're superior. Why not be human to them like you are to your own biological children. Your driver, your cook, your gate man, your maid, they are created in your own image and likeness too, treat them well.

Oga principal and form teacher, sometimes flogging that student that hasn't paid his fees or bought that text and exercise books isn't the best option. If he had the money, he won't be comfortable receiving those whips. Why not get across to his or her custodian and iron it out before you kill that poor innocent child.

Dear child, no matter the circumstances that took you to someone's home and you're being maltreated, don't ever think ill for your guardians. As much as you can, pray for them, but pray for yourself more. Be good and ask God to deliver you and liberate you from the shackles of poverty. They might think they are dealing with you, but in truth, they are preparing you for tomorrow. Yes, the society is too tough and needs tough men to survive.
Say no to child abuse!
Have a sense of human dignity for your employed home staff!
Nobody knows tomorrow!