Lami yesterday evening, when I decided to detour to the Silverbird
galleria to meet up with a friend for drinks, all in a bid to wait out
the ever regular traffic jam that has now made Victoria Island a tourist
attraction.
After wondering round the galleria boring myself
with what it had to offer, I decided to brave the traffic and go home.
As I came out of the Galleria a very young boy of twelve, walked up to
me and shuffled a pack of cotton buds to my face. He was very persistent
and could only mutter the words, ‘cotton bud, buy’.
Now,
I love cotton buds, the tickle it gives my ears and the sensation that
slowly goes through my body, gives me goose pimples and makes me just
sleep like a fool. This made me not to be able to resist this littles
boys offer, so I asked him how much and he said, ‘wazo’. I looked
at the security men and asked the meaning of what he had just said.
They told me he meant N50, so I paid and collected one pack and moved
on.
On second thoughts, I looked back and beckoned at him. He
walked towards me, dirty green slippers flashing in the dark. He wore
brown shorts, held to his tiny waist with a rope, a faded green shirt
and a smile that promised a glowing future despite the present gloom.
His energy engaged me and I decided to talk with him.
He lives
in Ijora, but comes to VI every evening to sell cotton Buds, he had sold
a pack that evening and it was a good day. His mum a local pedicurist
was in Ijora with his younger ones waiting eagerly eagerly for his
return so that they can prepare dinner. He does not know his father.
After
each sale, he will jump on the keke Marwa to Obalende and from there he
will board a Bus to one Bus Top from where he will be “seeing Ijora
from afar” and from there the last leg of the journey will begins.
His
skin was powdery, but his eyes where bright. He smiled confidently and
was not fazed with his situation. He spoke glowingly of his mum and his
business and was very sure that he would get home safely even though it
was late. He always got home safely. He was that sharp and strong.
I
stared at their 12 year old and I swear cried. Real tears o. His
poverty touched me and I began to wonder just why would a living God
allow this. Why would this boy be exposed to such suffering but his
smile consoled me. He looked at me with those bright eyes and not
understanding why I was crying asked if I wanted more cotton buds. I
just looked at him and kept crying.
He didn’t understand the
tears, but saw this as an opportunity to sell the remaining two packs he
was holding in his tiny hands, so he stretched out his hands and said
those lovely words, ‘cotton, buy’. I took the remaining two and gave him N1000 and he immediately prostrated saying thank you in Yoruba and blessing me.
This
was the poor boy, I met yesterday. I will pray for his safety and for
his wellbeing. God will bless him, God will continue to protect him,
secure his future and give him the presence of mind to forgive this
society when he finally gets his triumph.
Amen.
*nb: The Photo attached is an internet image and not the actual photo of the boy, but very close