Ever since I was a little girl, my mom told me I was beautiful, but she never told me the power I held with such beauty. I remember when I was in high school; our head teacher would always ask me to meet him immediately after school time was over for extra assignments. I was 14, all I could say was “yes sir.” But on that faithful Monday, he took it too far. I tried to convince my mom that I don’t like the way Mr Femi looked at me, but she would say, “Bisi, you know that it is because of his likeness for you, and his kind heart that you have not been driven home from school. If you want to keep making accusations, be ready to say good bye to school.” I love my mother, and she loves me too, but you see we had nothing.
“Madam, we are here.” I opened my eyes and saw that Musa had pulled up in from of a very lovely hotel, one of the finest in Lagos in fact. “I see, thank you. Did your oga tell you when to pick me up?”
“No Ma.” Then how did he expect me to get home at this time of the night. I got out of the car and as the driver pulled away, I felt all alone. In my head I was thinking, “Just impress the guy, make it fast and get yourself out of there.”
I met this so called Bola once, at one of Tunde’s parties. We never spoke, I just know how he looks but if he is one of Tunde’s friends than I know him. I walked into the reception area of the hotel; I told the lady there my name, “Bisola Ade.” As I climbed up the stairs to room number 35, I thought to myself, “Bisola don’t take one more step, just turn back now around, you don’t have to do this.” I fought my mental state but my body took more steps further till I was there.
Knock, knock, the door opened. At first, I was simply frozen, I knew I had met this guy before but this was different.
“Hello, am guessing you are….”
“Bisola” I said, “oh yes, come in.” he said. As soon as that door closed behind me, I knew that whatever happens this night was my entire fault. He led me to one of the chairs in the room, and I graciously took a sit.
“Am sorry we had to meet like this, my name is Bola, Bola Olajide.” He passed me the wine bottle as he said his name ever so sweetly. “Are you in school,” he asked. I replied by telling him that am in my final year. he then made a comment about me looking like a Wilde child. I gave a little laugh because considering my background, I have not had a really reason to party. “Hmm I can when it calls for it.”
Our conversation went by so smoothly. The way he spoke and evoked laughter in me, I almost forgot that I was here as a bait. “So tell me something about yourself that does not relate to my friend.” I couldn’t bring myself to tell him that there really wasn’t nothing more to my life, than that I was a prisoner, locked forever to his friends side. So I said, “I sing a little something every now and then. I love to cook…” That really made him smile. “Hope you will make something for me one of these days, I can see what Tunde is enjoying.”
I laughed at his comment, who wouldn’t, the guy was extra cute. I had to shake those kinds of thoughts out of my head. As the evening progressed I realized we were now sitting on the floor. Bola had gone in to change into a more comfortable clothe, as he walked back in, my smile was so big, my jaw was hurting. Something was terribly wrong. I hadn’t spoken so freely in years with any guy until now. He made me yearn for a life like this and I couldn’t let myself think twice.
“So How about your parents?” At the mention of that, my body was as cold as ice. I never spoke of my parents or family to anyone but something changed. I wanted to open my mouth and pour out everything to this common stranger.
Then I told him everything. “My mom leaves in Lagos, umm I have 4 younger siblings.”
“What of dad?”
My father passed away when I was 13 years old. He left 5 children and a wife behind to die of hunger. Sometimes I wonder what God was thinking, taking away a family’s only way of survival. My family is poor, we know it and we have all decided to accept it, until the day my aunt took me to stay with her. At the age of seven, I was already out in the street selling anything my parent could lay hands on that will bring the meal of that day. I never wanted my sisters to suffer and go through the hardship that I went through walking in the sun, I wish it for nobody.
When I first arrived at my aunt’s place, I was 16. She sent me to a very good school in Benin, where she stayed. I quickly adapted to the way of life and thought that maybe God has finally answered my prayers. Everything was smooth until I turned 18. Ayo was aunt’s 25 year old son. He was in the university, so he barely came home. Two days after I turned 18, He finally came home.
I accepted him as a brother. He was older than me and used to help me with school work. Oga and Madam had gone to a party one night, and I was so tired from house chores, I fell asleep in the couch in the living room. The rest was history, everything you could possibly think of happened that day. After the deed was done, I cried so much, my head hurt. I couldn’t believe Ayo did this to me. I didn’t want to believe that what I was fighting against at such a young age, could happen ever so easily in this new world I had found.
Immediately, I packed my bags and ran as fast as my legs could take me. Nobody came looking for me. I realized that I was not important in this big world.
For the many nights I spent on the streets, I never once regretted leaving that house. I could not become a slave to any act. As fate would have it I met seyi, on my way to nowhere. She was my life saver when some street boys tried to steal my little traveling bag. Since then, she has given me so much that I can’t complain. We both were stranded, she had no home to go too, but she had the grace and beauty to get what she wanted.
It all started when she told me about a party that will be held at a very big house. “rich men and guys will be there, you know we need this. Two is better than one, so please come long, just this once.” I had nothing; Seyi was practically my mother, my father and everything. She fed me, so why shouldn’t I help her out.
No comments:
Post a Comment