Dad had lost his job the previous week; it was the same week I was to register for my senior secondary certificate exams. There was no money in the house because granddad had died three days after dad lost his job and all the money had gone into preparations for the burial. Nothing was put aside; everything had gone into the repairs of daddy’s car the previous month. He had not anticipated the sack, situations like that is never anticipated.

All happened in march and my seventeenth birthday was to fall on July of that year. My brother, Isaac had just turned seven and was in his fifth grade. We were all to stop school. Dad had not received his severance pay.

We were all in the parlour, mum, myself and my other siblings, mourning granddad’s demise and dad’s loss of job; Isaac came into the parlour, a tiny figure with curiously sharp but soft eyes. “Mum, please do a small chest for me, I want to start selling groundnuts, so I can pay my school fees” he had announced, looking very very pathetic but very brave and very determined.

I saw the look on his face and I knew immediately that he would go ahead and sell groundnuts whether mum made a chest for him or not. Small boys sold groundnuts in the local market back in the village; we did not think any of us would be reduced to that level.

My heart went out to my little brother, I wanted to hug him, try and protect him from the impending horrors, but I knew he would resist the gesture; as small as he was then, he hated a display of weakness.

His talk of school fees made me remember my unpaid exam fees; registrations were to end in four days time. I stopped thinking about it; it was a hopeless situation as far as I was concerned.

That afternoon, one of my schoolmates came to the house. He was a member of the Christian union I joined as soon as I started school. He informed us that my exam fees had been paid by the union and that I should hurry back to school. It was an emotional time, mum cried and refused to be consoled, the boy, Uche Odor, told her to stop crying and place her hope in God.

That same year, after my exams, dad made an arrangement for me to get married; there was no other option in sight. The husband understood that we hardly had food to eat in the house and he was not ready to accord me any queenly treatment; in fact, the marriage turned out to be a horror story for another day.

I was thrown out in preference for somebody whose parents could at least provide food for the family. My siblings represented urchins in the whole deal.

I picked myself up; a friend helped me pay for a room. On my own, I could at last invite my siblings. Two came over at first and when dad died, I went home and picked the remaining ones.

We all lived together in that one-foot small room and I told them, “now you have to fight for your lives; you have to fight to exist”.

We started looking for menial jobs for the ones who had reached working age. Our little brother had grown by now, he was twelve but he looked fifteen. We boosted his age and tried to push him to employers but the frail youthful looks betrayed our intentions. He did not want to stay at home while others were working and we had no money to register him in a school.

One day, my sister told her Lebanese boss that she had a small brother who needed a job. The Lebanese took one look at Isaac and employed him to help in the house. He was so faithful, so honest; the Lebanese sent him to school and gave him charge of his house.

When he was eighteen, he was removed from the house and given a job in the company. He saved up his salary and bought a canon analog camera from a friend who was leaving the country; in his spare time, he would go to a studio to learn how to take pictures. He combined his job with commercial photography. He made more money from this than his salary could afford him.

One day, he told me a friend had told him about a job in a very big shop. The pay would be double what he got from his present job. I advised him to be sure first before resigning.

He attended the interview but was not given the job. He was not happy, he wished he could have the job, he kept lamenting until his loss became my loss. At that point, I wished I knew people who were responsible for employing people in that outfit, then, I would just go to them and say, “if anyone should work with you, it should be this boy”

I love him; he never gives up; if he needs something from you, he will worry you until you wearily cave in. He obtained the phone number of the man who conducted the interview for them the first time, worried him until he called him for another interview.

The day he called and told me he had been offered the job, I popped champagne. It was my victory!

Robot  Villager

# 1 Dad had lost his job the previous week; it was the same week I was to register for my senior sec...Read the full article. Posted by Robot| 03.04.2008 15:33

aringaranso  Villager

# 2 Anne "Canary" Oboho, Your story was quite touching. I've read it three times and thought that some one will tell me that it was all made-up. It reminds me of what my Proffessor once told us, that no one has an easy llife. Anway,I am waiting for the rest of the series........................ Posted by aringaranso| 04.04.2008 15:15