He had already knocked on 5 gates. People were either not home or he was shooed away. Some people were rude when they saw his tattered clothes. I will go to one last home, he said to himself. The boy stood outside the tall hedge and stared at the rusted gate into the property. He gave a tentative knock, then two. Tiredness caused him to linger and finally a young man opened the gate. The boy was directed inside the property and a middle-aged woman met him. Her name was Lucy.
Lucy looked at the boy’s appearance and immediately guessed his situation. Even so, she asked him why he knocked on her gate. He explained that he was hungry and just wanted a little something to eat. Lucy gladly shared food with the boy as she questioned him until his story finally tumbled out.
The boy’s name was Precious. He does not remember living in a home of any type, not even a hut. Literally from the time he could walk, Precious led his blind mother around by the hand. They would scout the streets, approaching cars at stop signs, asking for money. By the end of the day, if luck were on their side, they would have enough money to purchase food for their one daily meal. When evening came, Precious and his mai would go to the outdoor market and find an empty rickety stall where they would lay down a plastic woven mat and sleep.
When Precious was about 5 years old he noticed something peculiar. All day he and mai would beg for money but when night came and they had found a place to bed down, it seemed that she could see. Puzzled, he asked her if she could see at night. She cuffed him on the side of the head and shouted, “Do not tell anyone,” she ordered. Two days later, Precious awoke and his mai was gone. For a week little Precious looked everywhere for his mai. He was terribly sad and lonely. Tears made trails down his dirty cheeks as his fear of being alone plagued him. He never saw his mother again.
(Story continued tomorrow) Pictures are of the Limbe Market where Precious and his mai would look for a place to sleep.
