THINGS I SAW THAT BROUGHT ME DOWN TO TEARS(3) BY EROMONSELE MITCHELL
Probably, many of us can still recollect those times when we would be scolded for laughing at people's conditions. It was the same for me. And it was my mum who had the unpleasant duty of having to smack me back into line. As a little child back then, laughing at things one had never set eyes on before was some kind of sport. But such childhood jests always came with its own pains: a sudden smack on the head, the back, buttocks or wrist! And that was exactly what I got from mum the day I saw a very bow-legged man walking down the road. Incredible, I thought. It was actually my first time of setting my eyes on such a sight. I was still very young then. I couldn't help but laugh at the man. A childish and hysterical laughter. It was funny to me. Amusing. But not to the man. I could see the sad look on his face as he walked pass us. That day, mum gave it to me without any warning. I didn't just see it coming. A sudden smack on my back, and it wasn't so funny anymore. Through out the rest of the walk, I must have been walking bow-legged.
For another one week, I kept seeing the bow-legged man in my dreams. But after saying sorry to the man when I saw him again a week after, my dreams of running through the finish line as the winner in my school's inter-house sports came back again. And it wasn't like I run so well. Perhaps, it was the race of life.
When you live in a city, it's not unusual to experience things that would make you wonder. It's not different in Port Harcourt. But I hear it's crazier in Lagos! I had one of such experiences on the 15th day in the month of March. I was on errands for my mum, one of which included going to the supermarket to get to some household items. After waiting for a cab for what seemed like eternity, I eventually decided to trek. The fuel scarcity was still eating into the lives of many, and the transport sector was the worse for it. But life must go on. Thee hustle and bustle in Port Harcourt city was still being fuelled by the sheer sweats and tears of people's resilience and sufferings. You could see such resilience in the eyes of the businessmen with shops brimming with goods here and there, just as the suffering settled on the faces of the Almajiri children that had become scavengers in the street.
The Almajiris with their outstretched bowls and impoverished faces were the symbol of begging in the street. They looked so ragged, dirty and unkempt. But with no roof over their poor heads, and no parental care, who would blame them. They are the symptoms of a deeper societal disease. Just as I was deep in thoughts over their conditions and helplessness, someone was pulling my right hand to get my attention.
"Aunty, abeg give me something for mouth" begged a young female voice, as she lifted her hand to her mouth.
Sadly, I wasn't with any extra note. But she held on to my hand. She had soft hands, and I was a bit baffled by this. With the hot weather and poor conditions, I'd always imagined hard palms. I really wonder why their parents keep procreating when they can't take care of the ones they laureate have.
There was a pretty lady who was now also walking along my way. She was now beside me. On seeing the way one of the almajiri beggars held my hand, she was filled with nausea. Aunty Nneka, as I later learnt her name to be, was simply disgusted.
"Na wao! See as you allow this pig girl they hold this your yori yori body! You no see as dem be? These ugly and wretched children. See as this one head be; See as dem dey smell sef! Abeg send this one comot for my side!" She had a serious frown on her face gleaming with make-ups in the hot weather. With flung her hand dismissing the beggars as though she just saw a huge mold of dung.
"Aunty, ahan take am easy now. You no say dem be human being too." I tried to say in a respectful manner.
"Which kain human being! No be the one wey God make be these ones. These ones wey u see so na devil make them. See as dem black like goat shit! Abeg jare!" She hissed, and dipped her hand into her bag. It was not money she brought out, but a piece of mirror to check her make-up.
I don't know if one of the almajiri children heard all the words I had heard come out of her mouth. But before she could say one more word, one of the almajiri children who had his right hand scratching seriously God-knows-what in his ass, and the left hand scratching his dusty hair with mucus flowing from his nose suddenly came to her as she bent to pick her key that had just fallen down. His two hands were almost glued to her face:
"Aunty, abeg give me money", he begged, as his whole body rubbed against hers as though in a big bug. She was horrified. She flung the boy away with one hand. But the harm had been done. I believe over 1001 bacteria must have been glued to her. Her once pretty make-ups seemed messed up. I felt pity for her but found myself bursting into a loud laughter. On seeing the hateful stare she gave me, I took off still laughing out loud! After all, no smacks from mum this time!
Now, let's look at this situation. The lady had bad-mouthed the poor beggars even when they were not close to her. I think she got what she deserved (laughing). IF YOU THINK IT SERVES HER RIGHT, HIT THE LIKE BUTTON! DROP A COMMENT.
