As I stepped out the other Saturday morning for a run, I took deep breaths of the harmattan air which sent shivers down my spine. It was about 6:00am and I could hardly make out Prince Ebeano Supermarket on Admiralty Way ‘cause of how much fog was still heavily set on & above trees, houses & billboards. Wet grass left vertical spikes across my white sneakers and puddles of mud here and there dirtied the soles. As you can already guess, it was really cold. My hoodie could only do so much for comfort & Lord knows it took everything in me not to turn right back home to a hot cup of americano. If you are ever in Nigeria during this season, you’d know this is the coldest period of the year, especially at 6:00am in the morning!
Anyway, I slowed my pace gradually when I spotted a make-shift kiosk manned by this little girl who looked to be barely 6 years old with the longest dada I had ever seen on a child who was barely 6 years old.
(By the way, I always thought dada, especially the tidy ones with splashes of brown, were really adorable.)
Also, if you know Lagos, you’d know that this city never sleeps so it was not uncommon to see people buying & selling at this time. In fact, it would be weird if people didn’t trade or go about their activities as early as 5am. What was unusual to me was that this was a child alone, in the damn harmattan weather.
Why was she out here at this time of day?
I walked up to her, hoping she’d understand English & not just Yoruba. I had been in Lagos for nearly 2 years & my Yoruba was still a cry for help. I don’t even know why I assumed she was Yoruba (maybe cause it’s the major language of the west just like Hausa is for the North, Igbo to the East, etc) but I just wanted to be able to communicate with the girl. To her right, she displayed packets of chin-chin, plantain chips, bags of pure water, milk & milo sachets. & on the other side, strips of chelsea dry gin, origin bottles, coke & fanta.
I bent into the wide purple umbrella to meet her gaze. I asked her name—Mary—and if her folks were around to which she responded that both parents were asleep. Weird. Surely she’d have a sibling.
I go, “how about your brother or sister, dear?”
She gestured to a mango tree on the other side of the street. A couple teenage boys were conversing loudly, goofing around with cigarettes. That’s probably helping with the cold I thought to myself.
She stared down at her tiny feet, biting her nails profusely. I wondered if I made her nervous but I wasn’t ready to leave yet. I had to buy something, anything, but my pockets failed me. I had only 500 naira. That was my emergency transport fare (like vex money) – you know, for when one of my legs decides to fall asleep or when I get too exhausted from all that jogging. I’d learned the hard way from previous times. Never again.
But here I was, ready to risk it all for this child. Albeit just 500 naira.
“How much is the plantain chips?” I asked.
“100 naira for this one & 50 naira for this one” Mary said pointing at the various sized chips.
One of the boys from the pack (& who I assume is the brother) approached the kiosk. I placed his age at 15 years max.
He whispered something to Mary.
“How many do you want ma?” He said, pulling out a black nylon bag, taking over.
“Three”
I passed the cash to him and he immediately went; “Ah! No change o, no change.”
“Don’t worry about it” I said. I think I might have seen a ghost of a smile appear on his lips but they were gone before I knew it.
I had to ask.
“Is your mom around?”
The sadness in his eyes intensified & watered a little.
“Please don’t cry.” I said.
“She got sick & died.”
There was no point asking about daddy. Anyone will figure out that daddy wasn’t sleeping either.
I later got to know they were staying with an aunt. I told them I’d only be a minute so I jogged back home, grabbed my ATM card to withdraw some money before heading back to the kiosk. It wasn’t a lot of money, it wasn’t going to help with school fees, and it sure doesn’t mean they won’t be out early to sell plantain & chinchin & bags of pure water every other morning, but it was something. And sometimes, effort is better than nothing at all.
All I wanted was to see a smile on those faces & that was enough to set my day aright. That was enough for me.
thank you for reading!! :))
