We reached Papa's shoe factory few minutes past eight. He didn't order us to crawl on the gravel as usual. Instead, he told us to remove our slippers and stand on the tarred road barefooted. The tarred road was as hot as fire.
Standing under the hot sun, we begged Papa to free us but our plea fell on deaf ears. Some of his workers even took pity on us and pleaded on our behalf but to no avail.

Papa is a tall, huge, black Yoruba man with three tribal marks each on his cheeks. He is in his early forties. He is referred to as Omiran(giant in Yoruba language) by his friends.
He also looks ugly and scary. I wonder how he got the attention of Mama Fatoumata.

Papa is so scary that he makes babies cry. There was a day that Mama's friend came with her baby to visit. Immediately the baby caught sight of Papa, he started wailing uncontrollably. His mother had to leave the house that day.

"Now that you have all finished serving your punishment, go into the factory and start working. Now get out of my sight. Wretched children!" he bellowed at us.

We moved with great difficulty into the factory.

"I said hurry up!" Papa commanded.

We forgot about our wounds and moved quickly.
Some workers looked at us with pity in their eyes. We had stood under the hot sun for five hours. Our clothes were drenched in sweat and our feet were swollen with pain.
I had a splitting headache and the inside of my head felt as if women were pounding yams in it.

"Just know that you must finish the work allocated to all of you today or else you can forget about supper this evening," Papa threatened.

We trudged along with the other workers who were carrying stacks of leather. I could barely hold myself up. I was already seeing stars circling my head. I was so hungry as the little breakfast I had in the morning had vanished.

"This is so callous," one worker remarked.

"How can Oga(a slang for boss) treat his children like this?" another commented.

"He is very wicked. I heard they are not his biological children. He is their foster father," the first worker explained.

"Foster father or not, this is not fair. How can someone treat his fellow human like this? Look at them! They're just kids. Look at Saba. She can barely lift that stack. Look at the way Oma is struggling with hers. And look at Fahad. I bet his muscles are strained right now," the second one lamented.

"He even gave them punishment for coming late, to stay under this hot sun and stand on the tarred road barefooted. Ya Allah! Ya Allah(oh my God)! Their feet must be swollen now and they must be having headache. Oh! I pity them," the first one fumed.

As they continued talking, I couldn't help but cry. Tears of anguish rolled down my cheeks as I dragged some stacks.
Oh! Oh, mother! Mother, why? Why did you leave me? Oh!
I turned to look at Saba and saw her sobbing. My heart called out to her.

"Saba! Saba! Stop! Sit down and rest," I spoke to her. I know what am about to do will land me into serious trouble with Papa. He doesn't like it whenever you help another person with his/her work.

I still remember the day Usama helped me to fetch water because I had menstrual cramps that day. Papa had flogged me ten strokes of the cane on my waist. I had screamed in pain and agony and some neighbours had rushed me to a nearby chemist who gave me some pain killers. The reason he flogged me was because I let Usama help me.
As for Usama, Papa had ordered him to distribute water to a construction site near our house. Papa informed the contractors that Usama had volunteered to fetch water for them for a week. At the end of one week, Usama fainted and we had to revive him by pouring water on his face. Papa had warned him never to help anyone again. But whenever Papa and Mama were not around, we would help each other.

"Oma, no! Remember what happened to Usama last time," she reminded me.

As i looked into her beautiful eyes that were glistened with tears, I made up my mind to help her. Let Papa do his worst.

"I will help you. He won't catch us," I stated.

"But he will beat us," she whispered fearfully.

"I will take the blame. Besides he is in his office. Just have some rest. Your fingers are even shaking like a dry leaf in the harmattan," I reassured her.

"Okay, thank you, Oma," she replied.

I used a part of my veil to wipe the sweat off her forehead and then proceeded to carry her load. I was almost done when Papa entered the factory. I didn't even notice him as I was so engrossed in my work.

I felt the impact of a belt on my back and the force sent me falling to the ground. Papa used his leather belt on me. That belt was as thick as an elephant's skin. When I fell down, my lips and my teeth connected and I started bleeding. I could taste my blood.

"What were you doing?" Papa barked at me in anger. I could see the fury blazing in his eyes.

"She... She was helping me," Saba explained but Papa's hand connected with her cheeks with full force that sent her falling on some sacks on the ground.

"Saba, I didn't ask you. So keep quiet," Papa snapped at her, "What were you doing, Oma?"

"I was helping Saba. She was very tired and could hardly work," I told him.
Before I knew it, Papa dealt me a blow on my left cheek. I tasted more blood. He would have continued but some men stopped him.

"Oga! Oga! Calm down! Do you want to kill her? She's only a child," they all told him.

"We will finish this at home," he hissed and marched out of the factory in fury.

Saba and Fahad bolted to my side. They helped me up on my feet. I could feel something wet on my back from where Papa's belt hit me. I knew it was blood. My skin was very soft and it easily became red or bled if I so much as have a scratch.

"Oma! Oma! Are you alright?" Fahad enquired in a worried tone.
I couldn't answer him. My mouth was on fire.

"Does she look alright to you? You always ask stupid questions," Saba scolded him and he sent her a glare.

"Oma, I am so sorry. I never should have let you help me," she wailed.

"Shhhhh! It's not your fault. Stop crying. It's the fault of our family members who abandoned us" I remarked and hugged her and we both cried our eyes out.

When we arrived at home, Mama and Usama were already home. They were in the kitchen making supper. We went to join them and greeted Mama first.

"Assalamalaykum, Mama," we knelt down and greeted her.

"Walaykumsalam," she responded and then looked at my cheeks, "What happened?"

"Em... Papa..." I couldn't finsh the sentence.

"Even you too," she sneered at Saba.
Saba nodded and mama burst into laughter. We just ignored her and did the things she directed us to do.

"I keep telling you children that a child who says his mama will not sleep, he also will not sleep. Your Papa did not even deal with the both of you very well. You are both lucky it's not me. What I would have done to the both of you, in your entire life, you'll never forget," she barked at us.

The time for supper came and I was afraid because I knew Papa will punish us again. We were sitting on the floor, each eating rice barely enough to satisfy a baby. Papa and Mama both sat on a settee, with their food on the table.
Luckily for us, Papa had forgotten. I was so happy as I silently thanked Allah.

After supper, we washed the dirty plates and cleaned the kitchen. Then we went outside the house to the boys quarters to sleep. Usama took with him a lantern as there was no electricity in the boys quarters.

We sat down on our sleeping mats and Saba applied kernel pomade to my injured back. Kernel pomade was the only kind of cream we used as Mama refused to buy even Vaseline for us saying that we did not deserve the luxury of Vaseline.

"Aaargh! Careful, Saba," I complained.

"Sorry," she muttered.

"I thought Mama is wicked but Papa is even more wicked," Usama sounded enranged.

"As if he has not done worse before?" Saba hissed.

I was very tired and I wanted to lie down by all means.

"Saba, please, I want to sleep," I told her.

I drew my blouse down and lay on my right side with great difficulty.

"Goodnight," I whispered.

"Goodnight!" they replied and lay on their mats to sleep.

I didn't sleep immediately. I cried for a very long time. I cried for my friend, Lulu, who died in my arms. I cried remembering how the kidnappers had flogged all of us in the camp because we refused to eat beans that was sour. I cried remembering how Papa had beaten me this afternoon.
But most of all, I cried because of my mother, who had abandoned me. I cried till I fell asleep.

What a sad chapter. 😔
I hope you like this chapter.
Please support me by voting.
Please tell me what you think about this chapter by commenting.
And please share.
Love you all.
Thanks! 😘