LIFE ON THE STREETS IN LAGOS

 Life on the Streets   I had no idea of where to go, neither did I have any idea on how to travel back to my home town and be with my mother. I wandered the whole day, hungry and I had no idea in what direction I was going but somehow I found myself in Lagos Island. I saw some children playing under the bridge. I joined them and one of them asked me where I was going to and where I was coming from. I told him my story. He was eating bread and akara (bean cake). He offered me some and I was very pleased to have something in my stom­ach. He was about twelve years old.

He said he too ran away from his cruel aunt that promised his mother on her death bed that she would look after him. The aunt gave his dy­ing mother the assurance that she would take care of him but the opposite was the case. The aunt subjected him to inhuman treatments. He would go out selling things for her. If certain amount of money were missing she would beat him and lock him outside without food. She equally denied him education. He showed me his back revealing marks of a cane. I felt sorry for him. Both of us had similar stories.

His parents too were very rich but they died leaving him with his cruel relatives who took away his father’s properties. What was left for him was his life. He was a very bright, and intelligent boy. He learnt to survive under the bridge as did other children of the same age group. There were older boys and girls too. David became like an elder brother to me. He made sure I was okay.

David could read and write because he at­tended one of the best primary schools in his hometown. He lost his father at the age of ten. Life had been so cruel to him. His ambition was to be an engineer, to take up his father’s line of work and build the family’s company, but all that was gone. All their properties were grabbed by his greedy relatives.

According to him, some street children got into stealing because of the situations in which they found themselves. Some girls slept around in order to get money to feed. He did some me­nial jobs to survive. He was often lucky because people saw him as a brilliant young chap. I guess his parent’s guiding spirits were with him.

Sometimes we went begging to get money to enable us buy our usual akara, akamu or rice. Sometimes we went washing plates for food ven­dors in exchange for food. David was the brother I was deprived of. He protected me from the oth­er street children. My street life, though uncom­fortable, was more secure than the home life I left in Victoria Island.

Sleeping under Lagos Island bridge was a big risk. Children were often harassed there. They were in danger of being kidnapped by ritualists or of being initiated into armed robbery, drugs and child prostitution. Some were in danger of being sold into slavery and were vulnerable to child trafficking syndicates. David, my adopted elder brother, was always around to protect me. He was an angel sent to me. I do not know how I could have survived in such an environment without him.

 The same adults that were the cause of most children living in such conditions, were the same people who chased them away, when they saw them begging for money and food. Some people were sympathetic though, while others were in­different. Some called them names, forgetting that the conditions in which the children found themselves were created by the same adults. Who could save these innocent souls from the corrupt and wicked ways of some evil men and women?

 As long as the actions of these men and wom­en are not checked, our world would be unsafe. The future of the younger generation is in danger, even of those who may be in their comfort zones. It is a vicious circle. The youths are getting old­er and most are yet to realise their dreams, both those on the streets and those who think they are in their comfort zones, whose greedy parents re­fuse to leave the scene of their governance, or­ganisations and parastatals for the younger ones. How do I know about this? We have some youths among us who are used by politicians to win elec­tions while their children are studying abroad. They told us how they are engaged to look for children and human beings that they need for their human sacrifices in order to win elections. What can a child or teenager do in such a situ­ation where he/she must fight to survive? Can one survive when in need of the basic necessities of life, to add to all the problems created by the loss of one’s parents at a tender age?  Psalm 27