••••my Journey To Reality••••

It is a story of a little poor girl, her circumstances in life and how her journey to REALITY began.

Back then, I was the poor little girl with the cyndy hairstyle, always dressed in filthy clothes, especially my reddish dress of average length, which was usually referred to as my home uniform. I was a helpless girl who, for some circumstances, I couldn't overcome myself and had to live with my aunty...But before then, I stayed with my grandparents in one of the God-forsaken houses in our village, Ilupeju, located in the Ogun States. "God forsaken houses"? Yes! Life was that miserable! On December 3rd,2004, Grandfather slept and never woke; that is strange, right? It was strange for me to believe too!

After a while, I asked Brother Ojo, the best of all geniuses in the village, to help me write a letter to my Aunty Ewa, who happened to be one of the two children my Grandparents gave birth to and also the only existing one. Back then, She stayed in Lagos. I remember working so hard to be paid some amount of money at Baba Segi's farm because Brother Ojo insisted I pay him. After some while, Brother Ojo sent my letter through the post Office located three towns away from Ilupeju. I was forced to get tired of hoping Aunty Ewa would at least come to our aid. Each evening passed with my sum of hope that amounted to nothing, yet, I didn't get tired of hoping.

One evening, on my way back from the only stream that served us, I sighted a black jeep, and I was telling myself on the inside, one day, you'll own something like this. Only for me to reach home and I saw the same black jeep, well packed in front of our house. I rushed in to know who it was and I was surprised it was Aunty Ewa that had come to visit us. That evening, I was over excited and also used the opportunity to tell her how unpleasant life had been over here since the death of my Grandfather. Aunty Ewa promised to get back to me before the next two months. Hmm, exactly a month after Aunty Ewa came around to visit us, Grandmother, while coming back from the farm with loads of wood on her head, slumped and died! It was such a big tragedy for me! 

There was no phone or means to reach Aunty Ewa to inform her of what had happened. The other people from the village consoled me and went ahead to bury Grandmother beside the big tree behind our house. I kept on struggling with life, hoping one day, help would come for me. Six months after Grandmother's death, Aunty Ewa came to the village with loads of goodies hoping to surprise Grandmother and me, but the case was totally different from what she had planned. Aunty Ewa wept bitterly after the realization of what had happened to Grandmother, and to her, she had no choice but to take me along to Lagos the next day. It was a dream come true for me but with a mixture of tragedy because Grandmother was no more... As a helpless girl, I considered moving in with her rather than going to work as a maid in the palace.

After a few days of being treated nicely in Lagos, I came to the realization that my previous life was much better than the life I was living at that time. I thought they said, "Blood is thick than water," but in my case, I choose water over blood!... I remember every time she would look into my eyes and tell me, "You're nothing but a living ghost!" I would cry out my eyes in the corners of the rest room struggling to accept that, indeed, I was a living ghost. Subconsciously, I found myself living with the reality of a nobody who amounts to nothing! I walked, ate, thought, and slept like a living ghost. Friends noticed I was gradually gasping out the life in me. I couldn't open up to anyone; the fear of confirmation of what she had said from their end held me bound! 

Until one Friday evening, I was highly favored in her sight to have been given money for groundnut to take my cassava flakes. I got to a shop and sat down, waiting to be attended to. And suddenly, my consciousness got drawn to some statement that sounded so strange to the little poor me. "You're born for greatness," "I see you seated amongst kings," "Your light cannot be hidden," "You're ain't a ghost that shouldn't be seen; the world awaits your greatness!" Those were the words of a young mother to her daughter of probably my age grade. These sentences rang heavily in my head as though it was my first hearing the words. I repeatedly said to myself, "My light cannot be hidden!" "The world is waiting to hear my voice!" "I'm not a living ghost!"

This was how my journey to REALITY started.

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