Let's take a ride to the village where three generations lived in abject poverty
According to the story my dad told me, his grandfather(first generation) died of poverty. His father (second generation) survives through alms collection on the street. He was knocked down by a car in the process. My father (third-generation) inherited alms collection from his father. First, second and third-generation wallowed in abject poverty
I'm the first child. I have a sister named Lilian. We grew up on the street with our parents collecting alms. There was no opportunity to go to school so we remained on the street sleeping and waking every day under the bridge. Our poverty level, if measured , would rise above sea level. In fact, when we compare it to height, mount Everest will bow
One day, I went beside a car and begged the man driving to give me some money to eat. He looked at me contemptuously and chased me like a dog. As a professional begger, I was adamant. I kept disturbing him in the hold-up. He wined up his glass and switched on his music box. The traffic light was counting down and it was 3 minutes remaining for the green light to take over the traffic. To draw his attention, I knocked at his glass multiple times. When he looked at me, I knew he was very angry. He opened the car door with full force and hit me to the ground. I sustained a minor injury from the hit but it was nothing compared to what I faced moving up and down the road to beg for money
As I was about to help myself up from the fall, I saw a wallet on the floor beneath the door. It dropped from his side pocket when he opened and hit me with the door. I quickly stretched forth for the wallet, but before I stood up to balance myself, the hold-up had ended. He moved his car at the speed of light before I could say Jack Robbinson. When I opened the wallet, I saw different papers with $20,000 and some of our currency. My heart beat changed instantly and I lost the perfect delivery of my words as I soliloquized. My hair took a vintage angle of 900 and my skin was covered with goose pimples. I've never seen such in my life
I carefully kept the wallet in my pocket and waited for my dad to come so I could tell him what happened. As I raised up my head, I saw the man's car coming back. I felt two strong powers whispering beside me on the two sides. One was saying give him back and the other was saying don't try it. Many things began to rush through my mind. We are poor, and when I begged him for money for food, he chased me like a dog and hit me to the floor with the car door. NO! I won't return it. I stood looking at him from afar in another traffic. I couldn't hold myself. I walked toward him and knocked on his glass the second time. He recognized me. He wined down and said, "What do you want again you this goat"? - You mistakenly dropped your wallet when you knocked me down- Here is it. I threw it to him and continued begging others for help
He didn't believe his eyes. He parked his car after the traffic and followed me. My dad was already under the bridge. He apologized to me and begged my dad to allow him to take me to the city and sponsor my education. He agreed, but I refused. He bundled me and threw me through the car window and the car took off. That was how I became a Lagos boy at the age of 12. Six months had passed and I remained in his house running errands, washing his cars, trimming the flowers, and mounting the gate. He didn't send me to school. I worked in his house for 5 years as a house boy without being paid a dime. Each time I talk about school, he would shun me or walk me away. I had to carry my cross gallantly with wisdom by learning a skill without letting him know. I was able to manage myself within the time he leaves for the office and return at night
One day, he came back from work and was very angry. He couldn't find his wallet. He had no idea where it fell from his pocket. After a week, he forgot about it. I was tired of living with him. I wanted to leave but I had nothing. Fortunately for me, I spot his wallet inside the thick flower when I was watering them. When I checked, there were 25 pieces of $1000 each arranged straight in the wallet. This time, only one voice spoke to me and the word was "It's time to go". I told him I wanted to visit my parents but he refused to let me go because he didn't fulfill the promise he made for my poor dad
When he was off to work, I packed my belongings and left his house. I spent 2 days at a friend's house to plan the journey. I changed the money to our currency and bought all the equipment I needed to set up my shop. It was time to go home. I boarded a car and kept all my loads in the boot. There were four passengers. Three at the back and I occupied the front seat. After some hours, the three passengers alighted, remaining the driver and I. When we got to a lonely road almost 45 minutes to where I would alight, the car stopped working. What could be the issue? The driver went down and opened the bunnet to check what was wrong
My mind wasn't at rest. I have a huge amount of money in my bag and all the loads I carry are worth $5,000. The car wasn't showing any sign of response. The driver then begged me to push it forward maybe it would ignite. I was very desperate to leave that area so pushing the car wasn't a problem. As I stepped out of the car and closed the door, the driver kicked the car and took off
Oh my God! I would rather die than watch him go with all my belongings. I clung to the door of the car as he moved with speed. He maneuvered the car left and right so my hand would slip and fall but my grip was 100% perfect. I struggled to climb and enter through the window of the owner's side and I was able to slot in my head. He hit my head several times with a blow but kept struggling to get my hands on the steering. I was determined. It's either we both die or I get my belongings. When I eventually held the steering wheel, I dragged it with him. It wasn't easy because I was lying straight across the window with my two hands on the steering wheel and my two legs on the window. After some minutes of drag and draw, the car ended up hitting a big tree and stopped. My right hand fractured but the driver fainted. Luckily for me, A tipper passing by helped me to my village. The driver was conscious before we left. I had to leave him to face his problems
Getting under the bridge, I met my father and my sister in heavy rain. I was embittered. When they saw me, they hardly recognized me. My dad had been ill for months. He was happy to see me. I told him the story and the only thing he said was "thank God for breaking the poverty course". He died in my hands right under the bridge. It's sad he couldn't wait to be treated and enjoy a better life before kicking the bucket. I set up my business, got an apartment, and sent my sister to school. We both had a better life
Mum left dad and followed another man when things were too rough. Maybe I will see her tomorrow, only God knows. The yolk of poverty was broken in the fourth generation
Note that this is a work of fiction.
This is ckole the laughing gas
One love
hello @ckole ... a few points:
Thank you. The Ink Well Team.
It must have escaped my mind. My bad! I'm sorry for that.
I just did that.
It's a work of fiction. I created the story out of thin air. Thanks a lot for the guide. Much appreciated.
Your story is like a rollercoaster ride of emotions. In the beginning, I pictured the children on the street who beg with plates and rags, and I teared up at not just your heart-wrenching experiences but the thought that this could be happening to one of those almajiri on the street. That man is heartless, I thought he would fulfill his promise only to realize that what he saw was an honest boy he could use for many years.
Thank goodness the universe gave you a chance to leave and you were repaid for all the years of being faithful to a wicked person. At last, the yoke of poverty had been broken, even though it took many years.
Well done @ckole on this story, the description was just perfect.
Thanks a lot @iskawrites. Surely, this could be happening to some beggars or poor family. I've seen issues related to it around me where innocent and honest kids are being used for personal gain. I appreciate your honest feedback. One love.
This narrative has the makings of a decent story, but you do need to introduce dialogue to create some balance. Running your draft through a few checks before publishing would catch also issues with grammar, punctuation, and spelling, which take away from the piece. Have you tried using Google docs or Grammarly before?
Please ensure that you use the correct tags when posting stories in the community so that it is easy to identify whether your story is a work of fiction or creative non-fiction.
Thank you for writing in The Ink Well
Thanks @theinkwell. The feedback is helpful.
Yay! 🤗
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Thanks for the support @iskawrites.