A NIGERIAN CHILD

Prelude.

My name is Alonsyios Deesay, orphaned at 7years old. As much as I can remember, the faint memories of my parents became daunted when my aunts posited that an eerie being seized them away during a hill climbing experience. As reported, nobody was a witness to whatever might have happened, but how was I to give answer to their death- puzzle that dazzles in my mind eye? The very hill that is being used for peace festival in my village swallowed up my parents? Well, ever since, my aunt Sally ,the youngest of my late mother’s siblings had tagged our clan head the evil backbone behind my fate. I discovered through my blind maternal grandmother, the odd stale tale besides the news of my birth. That gloomy morning, our clan head had announced with a glaring animosity that I am a strange child with a powerful hold in my tongue. He argued that a small dark knot of white flesh hangs behind my left earlobe, when checked, it was found to be true. But to his consternation, my parents ,especially my grandparents had screamed shouts of unalloyed praises to God that I would be a Blessing, a special child. Now ,at twelve years of age ,watching a speed boat on the wide Atlantic ocean in the city of Lagos. I believed that I am an unusual child with a strange power after all.

I came to Ojuelegba, Lagos with a relation of mine, shortly after the sad incident. Quickly, I was enrolled in a primary school as an upper class student after being interviewed. At home with her two teenage boys , I was a house help with little regard and dignity, feeding on the same pot with the family was a merger to the promise of my care she gave my aunt Sally . Else, I would have been a walking bag of bones. Years after, her attitude changed. The one time terrible Mrs Ojo and her boys, became a pillar of true care and support to me. I savored these moments until Mrs Ojo began to recounts the story of her missing money, again and again. This continued till I became a prime suspect. Everything changed until I was forced to confess a crime I never committed. Still, I maintained my stand and was thoroughly dehumanized. Eventually, I was thrown out of the house one cold night. Before leaving, I spat out a ‘word’ for the supposed culprit, and till date I often see him being publicly disgraced around the market. 

I am a wanderer, bare footed and in a tattered dress. Who will send a message to my aunt that I no longer live with Mrs Ojo and her boys? Even as I gradually emaciate, I won’t go to the village. Last night, a drunken night guard sexually molested me and in the morning when his senses returned, he guffawed that I was too young to be mad.

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