Chasing Greatness :A Journey Of Hope

chapter3: miracle

---

Not long after my dad left—less than a year—he returned from Libya. He didn’t make it across the Mediterranean Sea. The journey was far too tough for him.

As the only son, my dad had been pampered growing up, so facing the harsh realities of that trip was more than he could handle. When he came back, he was weak and slim, a shadow of the man he was before.

But despite everything, my mom was overjoyed to see him again. I can still slightly remember those moments—how my mom would pray constantly when he was gone, how sad she seemed without him. Seeing her smile again made me happy too.

My dad returned to his borehole business, though it was far from easy. Many of his clients had moved on, and he had to start over. But he kept trying, determined to survive. My mom also did everything she could. With no school degree or formal training, she began working for people—any job that would earn her a little money to support the family.

Not long after, my mom became pregnant for the third time. And that was how my brother, Best, came into the world.
      ---

My grandma was overjoyed when my brother, Best, was born. In fact, everyone in the family shared in the happiness.

It was during this time that we moved into a four-room face me, I face you house built by my aunt—my dad’s sister—for her parents. My aunt had traveled to Italy long ago, also through Libya. One of the first things she did after finding success was to ensure her parents no longer had to pay rent.

Sadly, only my grandma got to enjoy the house. My grandpa had passed away when I was just two years old. He had been a gifted Benin musician, known and loved by many, but his life was tragically cut short. He was poisoned while performing at a party.

Now, it was just us, my grandma, and the rest of my dad’s siblings living in the house. My dad’s eldest sister, who was married to a pastor, didn’t live with u.The second sister, however, lived with us and was my mom’s favorite. She and my mom were inseparable—they shared everything and treated each other like sisters. My mom had no idea, though, that this same woman, whom she trusted so much, would eventually become her greatest source of pain.---

It’s funny how the word "trust" can be so easily misused. "Do you trust me?" I imagine my dad asking. "I do. I trust you with my whole heart," my mom might have replied. Looking back now, I laugh at the irony. How I wish my mom had known better.

I remember growing up, sitting with my mom as she shared pieces of her past with me. I was too young to remember many things back then, but her stories filled in the gaps.

She told me about a time when my dad, as a borehole worker, often traveled for jobs. One day, he returned home with a woman. My dad, with his charm and confidence, told my mom that this woman was rich and that he wanted to "chop her money." He begged my mom to cooperate with him, to accommodate the woman and play along with his plan.

Out of loyalty—or maybe fear—my mom agreed, but she couldn’t bear the situation for long. To make matters worse, my dad introduced my mom to the woman as his sister. His sister!

Men, right?

Unable to endure the humiliation, my mom left the room and went to stay with my dad’s other sister. But the guilt and anger built up inside her, and after just two days, she couldn’t hold back anymore. She exposed everything to the woman.

When my dad found out, he was furious. In his anger, he left the house, leaving my mom to pick up the pieces.

My dad was a sweet man, and he had a way of making things right—at least for a while.

When he came back, he didn’t come empty-handed. He brought gifts for my mom, showered her with apologies, and promised to do better. My mom, with her kind and forgiving heart, decided to let it go.

In her mind, she reasoned, Which man doesn’t cheat? As long as he was good to her, cheating wasn’t the real problem—or so she thought.

How I wish she knew better.