Stepping Up

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The retiring sun filtered through the curtains into the room. I sat in the sitting room, eyes fixed on the TV, but my mind was somewhere else. I had just gotten back from school after I nearly died of hunger and starvation.

For over two months now, Papa hadn't sent me pocket money, and I didn't blame him. He had made a wrong business move that had cost him a lot. For over six months he hasn't been to work because he couldn't even afford to renew his rent for his office space.

According to him, if we didn't have a house of our own, we would have been moving back to the village because he couldn't even afford to pay the house rent too.

But there was hope for him and for us as his brother living in Abuja had invited him over so that they could discuss his next plan and know how he could help Papa stand on his feet again.

I was brought back to reality by Mama's long sigh in the kitchen. Then she proceeded to mutter some complaints which weren't clear enough from the sitting room.

I quickly stood up and ran to the kitchen. I stood by the door and listened to her cry to my younger ones who held out their plates before them as she poured little cups of garri from the almost empty garri bucket into their plates.

"We've to manage this garri tonight then tomorrow I'll go and beg Mama Aboy to sell garri to me on credit till Papa comes home. The little cash he left with us before travelling has finished. Please don't squeeze your face and manage it" she begged them. I noticed how hard it was for her to try to hide her tears.

I clenched my fist and tried not to make a sound. The scene before me pricked my stomach like tiny needles.

"Don't worry about me. Give them my share, I'll figure something out" I said in a calm voice that announced my presence.

Mama flinched at the sound of my voice. She turned to face me "Marriot, what? Won't you eat?" She asked with eyes that looked like they were tired of carrying the burden alone.

"I'll sort myself out", I said again with all seriousness, like I had a plan.

Deep down I knew there was no plan for me to sort myself out. I didn't even have any cash with me to buy food. I just lied so my younger ones could eat better. I was going to go to bed hungry. But just as Micheal my friend in school would say

"An empty stomach teaches the best lesson".

I knew it was time I stepped up and quickly too. If not we were going to die of hunger before Papa would return. I needed to be that stitch in time that'll save nine.

"No, you don't have to. By tomorrow, I'll go and buy more from Mama Aboy," she said. I knew it was a trick to get me to eat. Just what any mother would do.

But again I declined. "Mama, clearly that little garri won't be enough for them. Let them eat. I'll sort myself out," I replied again with a smile. I intended to make her see that I was fine.

Then I turned and walked to my room, the hunger in my belly biting deep without conscience. But I held on to my resolve. I felt I needed to be hungry so that the motivation would be high.

I got to my room and threw myself on my thin mattress. Staring at the cracked ceiling, Mama's tired face haunted my mind as it replayed over and over again. Then I sat up and took my phone. I called Michael

"Baba, how are you?" I heard him say as he answered.

"I'm not fine, Baba", I replied, not minding how low my voice was.

"What's wrong?" Micheal asked concerned.

"I need a loan from you. Baba, if not my people, no go see food chop (if not, my people won't have anything to eat)," I explained. Already he knew of our family problem.

Micheal laughed. "Is that why you're sounding like you want to die? Come on bro, how much do you need?" He asked.

My jaw dropped in surprise "Just a little to get food that'll last us this week". I replied.

There was silence for a while as I prayed that Michael wouldn't decline.

"Done" I heard him say.

"How come?" I asked, surprised. I was expecting him to ask for my account number.

"Baba, check your account; I've sent you some money. Or have you forgotten I still have your account number with me?" Then he dropped the call.

I checked and truly, he had sent me the money. I transferred the money to Mama's account with the description 'for our feeding'. I knew she would ask later, so I planned to tell her it was from my savings.

Then I opened my laptop and started searching the web. I had no idea what I was searching for, but I knew I needed to find something that could earn me cash within days so that I would pay back what I owed and even earn more for us to survive on.

I searched for jobs as a writer, virtual assistant, or anything at all I felt I could do. For the coming days, I buried myself in writing applications and emails and watching tutorials online. I didn’t tell Mama what I was doing, afraid to raise her hopes too soon.

Luckily for me, I got an offer from a company that needed someone who could reply to emails for them. Something I haven't done before. But with so much courage and determination and with Mama's weary look earlier as motivation, I took the job and though the pay was little, it was something.

I worked tirelessly; my fingers ached with each tap on the keyboard, and my back protested, but I kept pushing. By the end of the week, I got my first pay, and I was able to pay back what I owed plus a little left I gave Mama for groceries. But like a typical African mum, she asked while seated on one of the kitchen stools cutting pumpkins.

"Marriott, how did you get this money?" I watched as she stared at the cash in my hands. She didn't even want to touch it yet. "Plus the one you transferred to me the other day. I hope you're not into some illegal dealings?" She asked.

"Mama, you trained me better than that na." I replied, "Look, I took on some jobs online, plus the other money I sent was a loan, which I have paid back".

I watched Mama's face. She still didn't believe me. I pulled another Kitchen stool closer and sat beside Mama. “I couldn’t just sit and watch anymore, Mama. You’ve done so much already.”

I watched as she paused and took the money from me. "Thank you, my child. But you didn't have to do all that. Your father will be back tomorrow, he succeeded with what he went for. Our trials are over"

I smiled at Mama as she teared up. "That's good news, mama. But someone still had to do something. A stitch in time saves nine".

Mama laughed with tears still in her eyes. "You're gradually becoming a man. And you'll make a good husband", she said.

"Just like Papa" I replied and held her hands. "Stop crying; we'll be fine", I added.

Then I stood up and walked out of the kitchen beaming with smiles. I felt proud. Proud of myself for stepping up for my family at a crucial time.