SPONSORING A CHILD
We are just three and I couldn’t have asked for more, but if I were to ask, my request would have been for either dad or mum to stay while I go. Of course, that was an exchange. Dad was a humble earning civil servant who made our world glow with in-depth joy, his humor had our house echo with laughter and I never thought it could easily get sullen. After his demise, mum’s world crashed, she was broken, who knew common headache could claim you dead? I wished she was strong, she always told us how impossible it was for her to raise us. I couldn’t blame her, she was only a housewife was busy with caring for her children . Although, she resorted to selling few groceries but it was fast bankrupt, four months fed from it. On a Monday morning, I remember mum telling me she couldn’t stand to see her failures when we were sent home for unpaid school fees while other children strode back fulfilled. She died of hypertension anyway.
Soon enough, we were no difference to the children of the well known drunk “pa Roger” who neglected his children after he lost his job and his wife, gone. We wandered with them, they taught us tricks. Our hopes became shattered, and I just couldn’t see myself becoming the newscaster in view, and my brothers and I, in no time started to become outcasts in the community. since Mama Tayo caught my brother picking an unused #50 note from a purse, which we smartly denied, she had always scolded her son not to associate with us. That’s a lot depressing, I hate to be seen or called a thief. We only lifted pots of soup occasionally and picked pockets when needed. I wouldn’t call these stealing, not before now. We had to survive.
Last Friday, I overheard the preaching of the Imam down the street, telling the congregation of the importance of caring for orphans. I settled on the pavement by the entrance to listen better, he said God reiterates the issue of orphans and needy in the Qur’an and Bible so much that whoever aspires for a better hereafter should either directly sponsor or indirectly help. God promises whoever cares for an orphan, eternal bliss_ paradise which himself and Muhammad shall stride in like those of two jolly friends. He also said, “caring for these children In this world would have return reward on one’s progenies for no one is certain of his/her unwilling exeat from this world. Why not sow so we could reap double. First on our children, second, on our souls in the hereafter. If we don’t care for them, they make our community less enjoyable, develop vices, spread it and as well affect us and our children whom we so dear”
I stood up to leave, eyes rheumy, remembering I’m an helpless, denting orphan, thinking people of God are no more, if not, a ten year old little me wouldn’t have become this. I felt a light tap on my shoulder and I turned back, only to see Mama Nkechi who said “my child”. I was surprised, she never looked me this way before. Did she also listen to this admonition? Is it this hypnotizing? was she going to care? If she does, what about my brothers?
Shuqroh Akorede Azeez
Editor-In-Chief
K. O. A Education Foundation
