Her Rise from The Slums

3rd Arrival

Life could be hard
Life could give what I don't want
But I will survive🌸🌸🌸🌸

The breeze was blowing hard with a force that could push a person down if he or she was standing with a proximity to it. Once again I was seated at the window side of the eighteen seater bus. I had left home about four hours ago and Kaduna state three hours ago. It was hard,really hard for me to bade my parents and brothers goodbye. This time around all four of them dropped me at the park around five that morning.

I never knew Dami would cry but I had expected the tears that didn't waste time to come flowing down Bolanle's face. I couldn't stop myself also from crying and soon it was only my dad that tried to man up and stop the tears from flowing though he was sulking.

I was crying not just because I was leaving but because I had exhausted all the money my parents had and was leaving them penniless. After buying the stuffs from the market my dad had given me his atm card to make use of at school. He had deposited four thousand Naira into it and had paid ten thousand Naira for my transportation. He had also given me a thousand Naira to hold on to to transport myself from the last bus stop in Lagos and use the remaining wisely.

It saddened my heart that going to school had been tough on my parents. It would have been better if I had insisted to stay in ABU and try to convince them that I can become something even in Zaria. Apart from the traveling expenses and the items bought the getting of certificates and printing of different results had really consumed a lot of money.

I had also travelled down to Lagos last two months with mum for registration so as to be given a hostel and avoid paying the hilarious money for hostels or rooms outside the school which we would not be able to afford we had stayed with a friend of hers who relocated from Zaria to Ikorodu in the outskirts of Lagos and it had been tough for us since I made about five trips to the school before I could finish my registration going on the first one with my mum. Above all the school fees of over forty thousand Naira made my dad to resort to loan money again which I feared deep down in my heart would affect them negatively.

Therefore going away from them was as if I was leaving them to be eaten by a lion. Sitting in this bus filled with fears of the unknown made me oblivious of where we were and not finding the journey interesting or places at the side of the bus captivating to look at.

"Hello" I said into the my mum's Techno Y2 phone which she had given me since I couldn't get mine and I did be needing it in school after tapping the receive icon to accept the call coming from my dad.

"Where have you gotten to" he asked in Yoruba

"We are just passing the lokoja bridge"

"Okay layo ooo" he responded saying safe trip and cut the call.

By this time I took notice of my environment more I quickly dipped my phone into the under of my old black school bag still scared of the unknown. I have heard of lot of thieves on highways stopping vehicles and collecting valuables from passengers.

I soon got tired of looking at the bushes and fell into a slumber which I knew I would soon wake up from soon.

I woke up trying to familiarize myself with the environment since it was the fifth time I would be on this route. I saw that we were approaching Ibilo the place popular for its fried yam in the outskirts of Edo state. What looked like a short slumber had lasted for more than i thought. I was at the window side and shouts of 'Aunty buy yam' encompassed me

As if on cue my stomach rumbled I guess the tantalizing aroma of the steaming hot yam in the white nylon caused it and since I have not eaten since we left Zaria I decided to buy one