Preordained #ProjectNigeria

3- The Next Day

Nwanyieze:

"Nne, how was your work?"

Mama Uju is a big woman, light skinned and spotless. She has even white teeth and a head full of thick, dark braids.

"Fine, Mama," I reply.

I'm so exhausted, my body feels like it's about to collapse. Opening my handbag, I dig out thirty thousand Naira and hand it over to her before curling up on the bed I share with Adanna, Mama Uju's only child. The month has ended, and so it's payday for me- or for Mama.

She is called Mama Uju by me alone because only I in this Lagos, know her past. Back then in Owerri, Mama Uju lived in the same public yard with my parents and I. She took me in when my so called parents threw me out because I was accused of seducing my father, when in truth, he had raped me countless times.

It came as a huge shock to discover that they were not my actual parents, and that I had been adopted at three years old.

Mama Uju is a widow, and she lost her only daughter then, Ujunwa. Out of habit we still called her Mama Uju and she never seemed to mind. When she relocated to Lagos, I was just concluding my West African Senior Secondary Certificate Examinations (WASSCE), which she had payed for.

By then, I was an orphan again, and the government couldn't care less about me. Watching Mama Uju leave was heartbreaking, and I remember crying so hard I fell ill. She then promised to make arrangements for me and encouraged me to write the Joint Admissions Matriculation Board (JAMB) examinations.

While managing with my adoptive parents, she helped to process my admission from Lagos. Next thing I knew, I was on a bus to Lagos and my fake parents were all to happy to get rid of me. University admissions are competitive by nature because of the pursuit for academic excellence, and I had scaled through and gained a spot in one of the leading universities in Lagos.

We live in a three-bedroom apartment in Shipeolu, Gbagada. Adanna, an illegitimate child, was born a year after I moved to Lagos, and her father wants nothing to do with her as he is 'happily' married. Seeing that Mama Uju had more on her plate, I went to her and seriously told her that I wanted to support her.

A new baby didn't come cheap and and with her new duties as an unemployed mother struggling to start a business, I also had to take care of the house while teaching myself to sew. It had looked to me like Mama Uju wouldn't want to leave her child with anyone at that point.

"Be a sales girl, nne," she had suggested.

"No, Mama. It won't bring in enough income. And what about time for studies?"

"A nanny?"

I had shaken my head. How would I have time for my studies while taking care of children?

"I'll think of something, Mama. Don't worry. "

She had nodded. "Please don't do anything illegal, Nwa."

"I know."

I wasn't a virgin thanks to my fake father, so what was the point of suffering when I could use my body to advance myself? My zeal for education was so intense I was willing to sell myself.

And so a few weeks after our discussion, I told her that I got a part time job as a waitress at a hotel's night club on Lagos Island.

Of course, this is a lie.

Normally, I turn up on the streets every few weeks, especially when I need the money. Some other times, I show up at parties with Temi, especially when expatriates are in attendance. I prefer the expatriates because most times, I'm sure I won't meet them ever again and they are quick to dole out Naira, with the thought that their foreign currencies have a higher value than the Naira. My meetings are usually discreet, both parties are satisfied, and the deal ends.