I uploaded a picture in the first chapter(not the A/N) of the overview of Ibadan. It's going to aid your understanding of the descriptions I portrayed.
My runaway mother's experience in Lagos was enough reason to steer me off the course but at that point, the voices that chanted in my head communicated just one sentence;
"If I perish, I perish".
Besides, I could not think of somewhere else that was far from Ibadan and yet had a lot of similarities.
I alighted as soon as the bus reached the bus stop in Lagos that evening, tired, weak and confused. Unsure of the cost of transportation, I handed the entire money I had to the conductor and waited patiently until he fished out a five hundred naira note out of the bundle of neatly folded notes in his hand.
Unlike Ibadan, Lagos is a metropolis city, the heart of the nation and the city that accommodates people from all walks of life. Soon enough, the noise from the bus conductors calling their destinations caused my head to pound rapidly.
I bought a bottle of pepsi and bread from a local vendor right in the motor park and wolfed it down like a starved beast.
Night fell with me still roaming the streets in search of a serene place to pass the night.
I spent the rest I had on breakfast the following day and subsequently became penniless. Not even a belonging I could sell off or even a change of clothing.
I started working in the motor park, helping people to carry their luggage for peanuts. By the time I worked all day, the gathered peanuts would be only enough to buy low-quality dinner.
Days later, I was able to secure a space under the bridge to lay my head every night. I met several homeless children there as well and made friends quickly.
Life under the bridge was rough. There were newbies, young girls' turned prostitutes, young boys turned rogues and all manners of other vices such as drinking, doing drugs, smoking and stealing. The police came from time to time to raid and I was always lucky to be out of range anytime they paid a visit. Despite the constant raids and arrests of some of us, we managed to increase and the vices only multiplied
With time, I learnt new tricks of pick pocketing from a particular friend I made. Although we were age mates, he was fat taller than me and was more heavily built. He also had a tough personality to him. He always had my back and protected me from bullies. I learnt the art of survival by mere following his footsteps and he was the closest friend I ever had. Osezua was his name.
However, the heart breaking fate that always accompanied me had other plans for me
There was this incident I got into that almost got me burnt alive on account of pick pocketing. I had thought that day was going to be the end of the miserable life I was living when Osezua showed up with two other hefty guys. They were armed with cutlasses and machetes, as they kept threatening to butcher anyone who stood in their way.
The angry mob that almost burnt me alive did not renege on their commitment. So, a fight ensued. It was a gory sight to behold as Osezua and the other guys gave major injuries to the opposition party while they only sustained few light bruises.
As soon as we heard the sirens of police vehicles approaching, we made way to flee from the scene.
However, they started firing warning shots sooner than we expected. In the course of our escaping the scene, a stray bullet hit him and he slumped immediately. Like a fountain of water, blood kept gushing out of the wound
"OSEZUA!!", I screamed, utterly devastated as I felt the familiar rush of uselessness blanketing over me
" It's over, I'm glad it's finally over", he said, smilingly. His smile gave no hint of pain as his dimples sat proudly on his cheeks.
"STOOOP", a cop screamed, the intensity becoming louder with each ticking second
" Ray, RUN!", Osezua half-yelled, pushing me with all the strength he could muster
"RUN!"
He was the only person who ever called me Ray.
It's 4:13am right now and I feel physically and mentally drained from all the exertions of the day.
All I need is a vote and a couple of constructive criticisms from each one
You could share if you feel it's worth it
Guess the bridge I talked about in this chapter and get a chapter dedication from me.
Stay safe!
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Shadows Of The Past
Non-FictionFor Raymond, hustle was the last resort when his mum left.. Eventually, he got a head way 🔳. But there was only one way to forge ahead, Re-visit the past and sort issues out Which isn't all that easy... Rather, it's one hell o...
