REBIRTH _ a True life Story by Olayode Juliana (Toyo Baby)__ Episode 6

Our neighbourhood became more populated as people started relocating there. My
step-mum now had more friends. She was discussing with her friends one afternoon and
I overheard them. Her friends were telling her that they make their children hawk to
make money. They then advised her to make use of her grown up children, referring to
Samson and I, to make money via hawking.
That was how it started. My brother and I started by selling water to people on a
construction site. My step-mum knew someone that connected her, so we were allowed
in. The site was a big one, so there were many customers. We were making money. We
were happy; at times, we were able to sell as many as thirty bags of water in a day.
About that time, dad’s work was picking up too. So, we were eating better at home.
He told my step-mum to go to Sango High School and find out what was required for my
brother and I to resume there. My step-sister was enrolled in a primary school in the
vicinity. Things were looking up. Samson and I, however, had to wait until the first term
to resume with them and we needed a transfer letter. With those factors in place, we
continued selling water.
Competition arrived on the site; our sales began to drop. So, we started selling puff-
puff with the water. Patronage continued and we were happy. Soon after, the
competition increased and people started selling other pastries and small chops. Sales
began to drop again.
About that time, I made a friend on the site, Mr. Aminu. Someday, he asked why my
brother and I were not in school. After I explained, he offered to bring me books to read.
I did not like the idea of reading non-academic books, but he told me I needed to keep
my brain active by reading. He started bringing books for me to read. I read and returned
them to him when done.
There were times Mr. Aminu gave us money, and other times, he bought us food.
Someday, he told me that the Chinese people were complaining; too many sellers on the
site, people just eating and not working. He said they would soon stop us from entering
the site; we would have to stay outside the gate.That was bad news for me. I wondered how we would survive and doubted the
workers would want to come out to buy from us. I told my step-mum what Mr. Aminu
said. She told me that if that happened, Samson and I would start hawking on the street.
That did not go down well with us. I told Samson and his reply was, “God forbid”. We
laughed about it and moved on.
A few days after, Mr. Aminu’s prediction materialised. We were not allowed into the
site any more; we were literally locked out. Not too many people came out to buy. We had
lots of leftovers. That day, we did not sell more than Two hundred Naira worth of puff-
puff. When we got home, we ate the rest and gave some to neighbours.
The very next day, we were on the street, hawking. She told my brother and I not to
go in the same direction as she feared we would play and laugh all the way without
making sales. My brother had become my best friend in those days. We talked about
everything, we laughed together, and we were there for each other. So as to avoid
distracting each other, we indulged her and went separate ways.
On my first day hawking, I sold everything but my legs felt the brunt of it. Same
happened with my brother. At night, we talked about our experience. Samson told me
how some people wanted him to sell to them on credit. I could not help laughing; I
simply concluded that human beings are just what they are.
The puff-puff patronage was growing, such that we sometimes did three rounds in
a day. My step-mum bought a bigger plastic container for us to match up with the
demand. We were making so much money that she started buying the ingredients in bulk.
Daddy was also doing well, so he hired a lesson teacher for us. The teacher came in
the evenings so our selling rounds reduced, but as expected, that did not go down well
with my step-mum. She proposed we have our lessons later in the evening, but the lesson
teacher was already booked then.
Our lesson teacher was funny, but also strict; he was quick to use the cane. There
were days when my brother and I would be tired and doze off during class, after a long
day of hawking. He would punish us at such times and report us to our step-mum.Having classes at home gave us the feeling of being in a school again; it lifted our spirits
somewhat.
Someday, while hawking, I saw the child of one of my step-mum’s friends hawking
puff-puff. I was very upset. Why were they copying us? The news made it to my step-
mum. She and her friend quarrelled over it; my step-mum saw it as betrayal of some sort.
And just like that, many other puff-puff sellers surfaced. We figured many of them set
out earlier than we did as our customers had already bought before we got to them; some
even sold at a cheaper rate to our customers. Sales went down again.
About that time, our lesson teacher fell ill and did not show up for about a month.
When he came back, he did not last too long as my dad could not afford to pay him again.
Sadly, because of our new competition, my step-mum would wake us up very early
in the morning to do chores, and by 7am, we were expected to be out of the house. And
most times, that was without breakfast. When we returned for the second round, we
would then take Koko and Groundnut. We had a woman who sold that to us. It was fast food
for us then.
There were times we woke up late and had to leave the house without a bath. If
something was undone when the puff-puff was ready, it had to stay undone as my step-
mum wanted us to sell it hot.
Samson could bear with not bathing, but the hunger was a no-go area. When we
were about parting ways on some occasions, he would complain of stomach pain,
threatening to eat out of the puff-puff. I would tell him not to do so, knowing my step-
mum counted the puff-puff and would know if one or more were unaccounted for.
My brother did not listen to me, and soon my step-mum was calling him a thief. The
first day she said it, I was shocked. My brother was gloomy all day and kept mumbling,
“she called me a thief ”. Another time after, my brother took from the money to buy food
and he told her when he remitted the money at night that he was hungry and needed to
eat. She called him a thief again and this time, Samson raised his voice at her.
I was surprised at my brother. He told her to her face, without fear, never to call him that again. He told her to ensure we had breakfast before going out if she did not want
him to eat out of the puff-puff or touch the money. She was mad at him and wanted to
beat him for standing up to her but he ran out.
I was so sure she would report Samson to my dad that night but she did not. That
got me wondering because that was her style. It was then it occurred to me that she
probably could not report to my dad because she would have to explain why his children
had been going hungry.
My step-mum became pregnant again. She gave birth to another baby girl. I was
again delighted that my brother had no rival. I now had more responsibility. When she
gave birth the first time, Adetutu did most of the work. Now, it was my turn. There was
so much to do around the house. A part of me was delighted that I was becoming a
woman and learning to multi-task, but another part of me felt the work was rather too
much.
I eventually broke down. I became sick; I had Chicken Pox. I could not speak well
and my body was always itchy, yet I was not relieved of my responsibilities. My brother
was upset and threatened to confront daddy, but I told him not to, that if my dad saw all
these and did not stop it, then he had his reasons. My brother’s reply to me was, “you
want to die silently?”
About that time, while hawking, I stepped on a plank without noticing the nail on it.
People were able to help remove the nail but I was bleeding. My brother somehow
appeared on the scene and asked me to go home but I refused, not wanting to upset my
step-mum and wondering how my portion would be sold.
People around asked if I did not have a mother when they saw my body covered in
Chicken Pox. The observers started insulting my mother and my brother got upset. He
explained to them our mum did not live with us. Samson helped me up and we left the
scene to an uncompleted building. He was almost done selling his portion of puff-puff,
so he poured mine into his, gave me the money he had made and told me to go home.
Tears poured out of my eyes and I could not stop them. My brother started crying too. He wanted to hug me, but I refused; I did not want him contracting the Pox. He then
said, “you don’t want me to hug you because of the Chicken Pox?”. That got me crying
more and before I knew it, my kid brother was already hugging me. I thanked him and
went back home.
My step-mum was surprised to see me back home. I told her what happened, but
she did not care. She took the money and went inside. I boiled water and started treating
the wound myself. As I nursed my wounds, I remembered the words of the onlookers
about my mum. “Mummy, where are you?” I cried.
I remembered at that moment how protective my mum was. She hated seeing scars,
marks or sears on our bodies. She ensured we did not play too hard. Someday, back then,
I was running and I fell, bruising my knee. It was a light scratch, but mummy ran to me,
carried me and treated me immediately. She did not allow me out of the house to play in
days; that was my punishment. But at this point, I was alone and that hurt. I felt my step-
mum was heartless.
When Samson returned and I told him what happened, he exclaimed, “she’s
wicked!” I managed to sleep that night with my leg hurting. Soon, the leg began to swell
and pus was coming out of it. People who saw me told me to treat it beggars, especially those with complete bodies and no deformity. I am not encouraging
laziness, but my point is, you do not know their story. Even if you will not give to them,
please do not judge or insult them. That girl might just be another Juliana Olayode.easily said she was not buying. Why did she have to be so mean? Somehow, my brother
met me again a few minutes after and asked why I was wet and crying. I told him what
happened. He was boiling with anger and wanted me to describe the woman’s shop, but I
did not, and thankfully I was not close enough to the shop for him to figure it out by
himself.
Samson, though my younger brother, always fought for me. I wondered what he
would do to the woman and I dreaded it. I got home and told my step-mum. She said
nothing. The next day, for the first time, I stood up to her and told her I was not going to
sell that day. She was upset and said all sorts, but I did not bulge. She did not give me
breakfast and I stayed that way until evening.
In the evening, she said she would never send me to sell for her again, but asked me
to go collect all the money that people owed us. I met Samson on the way, and he decided
to follow me. We got some money back, thankfully. However, the money was not
complete and I did not want her to nag me when I got home. I told my brother to go
home; I would stay on the road and beg.
Samson refused to leave me. He was going to stay with me and beg. And that was
how our begging career started, though it did not last more than that day. We started
going from adult to adult, begging. Some people eyed us, some asked me not to come
close because of the Pox. A particular woman waved the money around her son’s hand
and then gave me. Samson told me not to collect it; that act was too fetish-looking. But
she was giving me Five hundred Naira; I could not refuse it. I said the blood of Jesus
three times and collected it. I had been taught that the blood of Jesus could nullify all evil
and I believed.
That day, before we left the bus-stop, we made Two thousand, Five hundred Naira.
When we returned home, I gave my step-mum the money we had retrieved, plus Two
thousand Naira more, from our begging. I gave Samson Five hundred Naira to keep.
At this point, let me pause on my story to ask you not to judge people too quickly.
You never know the reason behind people’s actions until they tell you. Many of us judgethat I stood a chance
of having my leg amputated. There was nothing I could do. I kept hawking with Chicken
Pox and a swollen leg.
On one of my rounds, I stumbled on Mr. Aminu who took me to a pharmacy. I was
treated and given drugs. I was told to go home and rest. I was happy, having an excuse to
rest my leg. When I got home, my step-mum accused me again of taking money from
customers that were owing us to treat my leg. I was upset, but I did not say anything.
My leg started healing, but the Chicken Pox was still there to contend with and I was
beginning to have a temperature. I still went out to sell as usual and on this day, a woman
poured water on me. She said I was wicked to have Chicken Pox and be selling edibles.
She said I wanted to spread it to people. I felt like a plague, like an outcast.
I cried on the spot. I did not even know what to say to the woman. She could have easily said she was not buying. Why did she have to be so mean? Somehow, my brother
met me again a few minutes after and asked why I was wet and crying. I told him what
happened. He was boiling with anger and wanted me to describe the woman’s shop, but I
did not, and thankfully I was not close enough to the shop for him to figure it out by
himself.
Samson, though my younger brother, always fought for me. I wondered what he
would do to the woman and I dreaded it. I got home and told my step-mum. She said
nothing. The next day, for the first time, I stood up to her and told her I was not going to
sell that day. She was upset and said all sorts, but I did not bulge. She did not give me
breakfast and I stayed that way until evening.
In the evening, she said she would never send me to sell for her again, but asked me
to go collect all the money that people owed us. I met Samson on the way, and he decided
to follow me. We got some money back, thankfully. However, the money was not
complete and I did not want her to nag me when I got home. I told my brother to go
home; I would stay on the road and beg.
Samson refused to leave me. He was going to stay with me and beg. And that was
how our begging career started, though it did not last more than that day. We started
going from adult to adult, begging. Some people eyed us, some asked me not to come
close because of the Pox. A particular woman waved the money around her son’s hand
and then gave me. Samson told me not to collect it; that act was too fetish-looking. But
she was giving me Five hundred Naira; I could not refuse it. I said the blood of Jesus
three times and collected it. I had been taught that the blood of Jesus could nullify all evil
and I believed.
That day, before we left the bus-stop, we made Two thousand, Five hundred Naira.
When we returned home, I gave my step-mum the money we had retrieved, plus Two
thousand Naira more, from our begging. I gave Samson Five hundred Naira to keep.
At this point, let me pause on my story to ask you not to judge people too quickly.
You never know the reason behind people’s actions until they tell you. Many of us judge beggars, especially those with complete bodies and no deformity. I am not encouraging
laziness, but my point is, you do not know their story. Even if you will not give to them,
please do not judge or insult them. That girl might just be another Juliana Olayode