HOMELESS

Timbushi Eunice Glandu

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Table of contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3


Chapter 1

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I was barely twelve years of age when I first made out to the streets roaming

about in lack and wants. Although, I never wanted this life I found myself living

I never asked for the circumstance I am facing; born in the streets, living daily

from hand to mouth. All my life all I ever wanted was to have a simply happy

home. A family that loved and cherished me for who I am and not for what I

have or what I can offer.

I always feel the sound of my heart yearning and longing for; a place where I

am recognized as a person, a place where I am celebrated, a place where my

heart is at ease, a place where I never have to beg for food to eat or for

money to cloth, and ears that are keen to my cries, pleas, and a voice that

speaks for me.

Once I dreamt that I was born into a rich family where my needs were well

chartered for, in terms of food, money, clothing, a happy family, and a

luxurious mansion for a home. I neither lack nor wanted anything that I never

got, in fact everything was at my beck and call. To say the least, there was

nothing an average child wanted that I lacked. Only to wake up to the bitter

reality that awaits me, that it was all a dream. A dream I so badly wanted to be

true.

"Oh how I wish all these were possible for me, I wish I was given the

opportunity to choose the family I was born into, then I would choose the best

of families. I wish there was a world where all these dreams of mine would

one day come to reality and I wouldn't have to fight the forces of surrounding

my every daily life," I thought. All these seem almost impossible for people like

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me to achieve because in the real world, I am only a poor homeless street

child.

I once had a family, a polygamous family for that matter. A family of three

wives with twenty children, but I lost my mother to the cold hands of death

while giving birth to her second child, after me. But my father is still not

satisfied, as he married a new wife to replace her. He would always state that

his father married ten wives and so did his grandfather marry fifteen wives,

and as a proud son of his father, he would marry many more wives to live up

to the family's standard.

As a result of this, we were extremely poor that we couldn't even feed up to

three square meals per day, and our house was always filled with children in

the small two room apartment we lived in. My father was just an ordinary petty

trader, and no matter how much he worked hard to get enough for the family

from his small business and from the little foodstuffs he harvests from his

farm. All of which was never enough to feed, not to talk more of it being

enough for our primary needs and other expenses.

As a result of the poor financial status of the family, our needs were not met,

we, the children were neither feed, nor clothed properly, not to talk more of

going to school or enjoying other rights and privileges that other children of

our age enjoyed. We were all left to fend for his or herself at such tender age.

We had no one to care for our needs. The succulent ones amongst us would

cry and sing bitter songs of discomfort all day long. And we the older ones

either join them in the chorus or listen to their songs in silent agony.

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It was not quite long before we understood the rhythm of the song the world

was playing, and we had no other option but to tune in to the music. We were

forced into the streets under heat of the sun and beating of the rain to beg

from dusk to dawn. Forced by the urgency of our needs and forced by the

circumstance of the society surrounding us.

Chapter 2

We found ourselves roaming about the streets begging or even doing

domestic chores for people, all through the day and night just to get food or

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money. And if we do not do so, we will stay the whole day without food with a

grumbling stomach which is more or less equivalent to a sleepless night.

Hence, it became a custom in our house that whenever, I or any other child

realizes anything, food or money we always had to share with the entire

family. Everyone will join the round table to eat whatever was brought not

minding where or how it came about. And when I finally decide to utilize the

money realized from a job well done for my own personal needs, I end up

being punished at home for not sharing with others. So I never said a word of

complaint about it rather I simply follow instructions.

On countless occasions, I had to toil so hard with my little fingers in the cold

streets in order to ensure that I got something from begging so that I could put

something in my mouth. I would roam around the streets hopelessly begging,

pleading, and crying out to everyone for food, money or anything anyone

could offer to help. I would knocked at every door in the entire neighbourhood

to beg for little help or assistance they could offer. But I got nothing but insults

and mockery in return. Some would spit on me and say it to my face that I

was a cursed child; some others said I was an armed robber, a petty thief and

a liar with the sole aim of duping people with my cheap story. While others

said I was sent to them from their village to torment them, but warned that I

should go back and report that I didn't see them. Other times, I would be

lucky enough to get money or food; money from tireless begging and food for

doing all sorts of menial jobs. I would tidy up various houses, fetch heavy

gallons of water, wash dirty plates, wash their dirty clothes and run errands.

While other times I would go to the market to hawk snacks on the streets, and

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wouldn't be paid until I sold everything. At times, I also help in the

dissemination of goods as sales-boy, wash cars for people, offload goods

from trunks and Lorries, assist customers in conveying purchased goods from

one place to another. In fact, I did all the odd jobs you see around just to keep

body and soul together.

Some of us were used as tools for political exploitation, for campaign, rallies,

and so on. Many politicians would pay us huge sum of money to buy our

vote. So that during the elections, we would vote into power their chosen

electorate.

There are several painful occasions; I lost five of my step siblings to the cold

hands of death in the streets. The most shocking and sorrowful of it were the

death of Adams and Miriam. These two young vicious children lost their

precious lives to the dangers of the streets for the sake of fighting for survival

in this wicked world

Adams was struggling to make ends meet like me and the others. He was

hawking bread in the market. On that fateful day of his demise, he was

making sales to a customer, he was trying to balanced the customer, he was

crushed to death by a reckless driver of a trailer trunk and died on the spot.

Miriam's case is the most mysterious of all, a dramatic puzzle to us. Unlike the

others, we never got the chance to bury her corpse. All we know was what the

Gate man of the house of her previous place of work told us, whether true or

not we still cannot comprehend till it day. The report we received was that her

former employee, a certain Alhaji's house where she works as a house-maid,

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stealthily raped her until she bled to death. And as if that was not enough, he

used her remains for money rituals.

We couldn't report the case to the police because we neither had the money

to pursue the case, nor did we have enough evidence to crucify the so called

Alhaji for his devilish acts. Due to the fact that he were a very influential man

in the society. Rich enough to bribe everyone’s' silence to his favour. We were

definitely no match for him in any way; we just had to let the sleeping dog lie

and mourn her quietly.

All these and more happened to us because we did not have a voice to speak

for us, we were seen as nobody. In addition, we had no one to stand in for us,

none to defend us, and none to hear our cries, and be provoked to action.

Like spoilt vegetables that lost its taste, so were we in the eyes of the world.

They toyed with us anyhow they deemed fit not minding our feelings, after all,

we are nothing but trash to them. Whence I thought, 'is it because we are from

the streets we do not deserve a panel? Does the fact that we are from the

streets make us less humans and more of garbage? Anyone can be a victim,

anyone can be a street child' I consoled myself.

What baffles me the most is that, there are a lot people out there who can

help us if they decide to, people embodied with the will power, the means and

resources to change our lives for better. But they chose to fold their hands

and watch us, suffer and even die, instead of helping our condemned

situation.

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Chapter 3

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As I resumed my full life in the streets, I made many more friends, good and

bad. As a result of my longing to belong to a class and be recognized, I got

myself attached to a group which called itself 'The Cabal'. They were

addressed as a group of teenagers formed by teenagers to protect us

teenagers. We are like family to each other, we protect each in this cruel and

wicked world that none cared for us, and we were there for one another.

At first I was adamant about the activities going on the group not until I was

fully initiated into the group, I learnt the 'do and don't' of the group. And slowly

I became more familiar each and every one of the group members. Then I

grew enthusiastic about everything in the group, I felt like I had finally arrived

home.

These new friends of mine in my new found group, Ify, Binta, Kenny, and

Dayo are all just like me, we are all victims of the streets. "We all have our

own different stories, and our own ugly stories of how we landed here, and

you are no different from us, we are all street children now", Kenny said to me

during my initiation into them group. So they were quick to understand where I

was coming as I also did them, and supported me whenever the need arises.

Ify formally named Ifechukwu is the most soft hearted. Since her birth she has

never known what it means to have a family means, according to her, this

group is her only family. She lost her mother to cancer at a tender age,

afterwards, her father married a new wife who maltreated her to the extent

she finally chased her out of the house to the streets. Ever since, she has

been on the streets roaming from one uncompleted building to another. Until

she found herself in an orphanage home where she has attained some level

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of education even though it’s just a primary school she was opportune to

complete, from there she ran back to the streets which according to her was

far better. There she met Kenny and Dayo and joined the group.

As for Binta the toughest chick, she suffered a great ordeal in the streets. She

has experienced too many traumatizing rape encounters that she no longer

keeps count of them. All for the sake of struggling for survival in the streets,

she was first raped at an early age of 10; she was never given the option of

abstinence as the street life is full of its own ups and downs, suffering to live

or be left to die. But now she has decided to give herself up to the challenge

in a more profitable manner. She sleeps men not just men but men who are

rich enough to pay her price.

As for we, the boys, our stories are almost the same, Kenny just realized

himself growing up in the streets, like a tree without root. He practically lived

his whole life on the cold streets. As a result of that he knows every nook and

cranny of the streets; he is like our street map. He plays the game of the

streets, and we call him 'baddest guy.' And Dayo, he is the most industrious,

the farmer and contractor amongst us. He is our master planner, the idea

man, with him around everything is well organized. He comes up with the

deals from the high and mighty politicians, he opens a whole lot of

opportunities to be utilized and we all join hands in our little way to make it a

perfect plan.

On one occasion, recall so vividly an encounter I had with a certain chief that

a politician asked us to take care of. When we attacked him, we gave him few

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chances to say anything or ask question, as a form of last prayer before

torture.

He asked curiously, "Who sent you?" Then

I replied, "you all sent me".

"Me!!! I don't know you from Genesis", He exclaimed in confusion. "But why

are you doing this?", he further questioned.

"Because you never showed me another way", I answered.

Please don't kill me? Chief pleaded.

I was asked only to take care of you just as you did me. And that I will carry

out earnestly.

Chief pleaded, "If you need money I will give to you please, don't do this".

I replied, "When we needed your help the most you turned your back on us".

The more I reminisce over it the more I understand why I said all those things

to Him, mysterious as it may have sounded to him. It was obvious that

everything we did, because that’s exactly what the world offered us. We were

never given the opportunity to be make our own decision of who we wanted to

be, the only options we had was to survive it or die from it. And we chose to

live.

Although, we sometimes steal and take things that were not ours, commonly

known as pick-pocket, harassed people and fought those that dreaded our

path. All of these we did with the conviction that we were just defending

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ourselves against the world that turned their backs on us. We carry out all

these acts together as a family, without any aorta of shame, fear or favour of

anyone or anything.

When I first joined the group we all lived together on the streets, on the cold

floor of the tar road, sometimes in an uncompleted building. And when its

raining we find some corridor of any kiosk to stay. From there, we advanced

to sleeping under the bridge, then to an abandoned condor, until finally we

started saving money to rent a house for ourselves.

And by the time we were able to secure a house for each and every member

of the group, and then we knew we could accomplish almost anything we set

out. From then onwards, we made better plans for better days ahead, plans

for a future without the street madness. Everything we did out there was the

struggle for survival regardless of the consequences.

Although, this was not the perfect family of my dreams, what matters most is

that we love each other and look out for each other. My joy knew no

boundaries for that is all I ever wanted. Finally I did got my dreams fulfilled

although it in bitter sweet experience. At least, now, I no longer sleep on an

empty stomach, I don't have to lack or want anything that I never got.

Together we were fulfilled, as everyone achieved his or her dreams. Whether

we do what the world calls good or bad, it still feels perfect together. We live

comfortable lives. Indeed, "the end has justified the means".

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