In the Hands of Aunty from Hell
I cried all through the night and was pampered for only that night. As soon as we arrived Lagos, things changed and I saw the true colour of my once kind hearted aunty.
In her deteriorating health condition, what could mother have done better than letting me go to this aunt’s place? I looked back and saw that perhaps mother might have known that this relative of hers was not the best choice, but her fear of leaving me all alone as she wasn’t going to live for more than a few more days made her took such a decision.
What could a girl of eight do in such a situation? Frightened and uncertain of my future, here I was in Lagos. The only treasured possession I got from my mother was the wrapper she gave me which I cherished so much. Till date I still have the wrapper. In all my journeys I never lost hope in God.
Betty, besides being the cook, was in charge of cleaning the main house and she would often bring to our room old journals, newspaper and magazines for me to read. She understood my longing to go to school and since I could read at eight years of age, I took the opportunity to go through them after the daily chores. Most times I did not understand what I read, but I kept reading. This I discovered helped in my later years of studies, because some of the difficult words that I came across were not strange to me.
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