GROWING UP

Life is like a rollercoaster ride —full of turpsy turvies. At some point or rather sometimes, you may be filled with excitement but the other times, well you just want to get the hell out of it not caring about the consequences.

Growing up wasn't easy. Talk more of living through teenagehood. Seriously, every teenager and young adult out there in the world deserve some accolades. Cheers to all the teenagers who fought past teenage hood. Especially those who fought through neglect, depression and all on that line.

I call myself Nairobi. I know it's weird but I do have my reasons for calling myself that. I just love the way the name sounds —the way it rolls of people's tongues. I find it quite unique.

My real name is Naomi Chielo and I'm a beautiful African girl child born out of wedlock.

Let's start with some back story. My mother—I don't think she deserves that title by the way— gave birth to me at the age of seventeen. Crazy I know. During that period, she and her elder sister, who was about twenty three, stayed in the roughest parts of Lagos State, Nigeria.

And guess what?

They were prostitutes —low class ones at that. From the little I know and observed, they slept with everything in trousers for chikin change.

What says low class prostitutes than that?

They —or rather we— weren't poverty stricken though but we weren't up to middle-class still. We managed a room self contain, popularly known as face me I slap you, somewhere in Lagos.

My mother though may have been good enough not to send me to the orphanage or worse abort me when I was still making my home in her STD infested body –I'm just being brutally honest —but sometimes I wished she aborted me.

My mother's name was also Naomi that's one of the reason I changed my name. In fact it was the only reason that made me change my name. You can call me childish for all I care.

I hated her.

She never even gave me a name. I can vaguely remember her calling me 'this girl'. She never acted like a mother to me. She never talked to me or embraced me. She never tried cautioning me or cooed sweet nonsense into my ears. I can remember vividly that whenever I was harassed and I reported to her, what she only told me was: if they agree to pay you do it. Appalling right?

She hated me too. The feeling was painfully mutual.

Well one day, she just disappeared. I didn't know what happened to her and I didn't even bother to ask my aunt where she was. I was about three or four then. We were never close so I didn't care. I never even called her mother. I called her by her name, that is when I had the chance to.

I later figured out that she had eloped with one of her numerous boyfriends. So technically, she dumped me with the most irresponsible guardian in the universe, her sister. You see why I had wished then, to have been aborted.

Her sister and my aunt, Dinma decided to name me Naomi like my mother. I think she missed her sister then. Dinma was no different from my mother. She would smoke and do gross things in my presence. It's a miracle that I didn't end up like her or my mother. I wouldn't say I was a very moral churchy girl but at least I wasn't a whore.

One beautiful thing that Dinma did for me was educating me. It wasn't the best education though but it was better than nothing. The school she put me in then was manageable. I'm still surprised that she had the heart to send me to the school. It wasn't the best. It wasn't even anything close to the best but I appreciated and still appreciate it.

Many youngsters may say school na scam but if I hadn't gone to school, I wouldn't have made the friends I made, my family. I might have actually gave up on a decent life and followed my mother's footsteps.

In my fifth year in secondary school (SSS2), I was just sixteen. It was during this time that I got the scholarship that helped change my life for the best.

Despite the kind of situation I had to grow up in, I was very brilliant and that was my destiny helper. I'm not exaggerating this one. There was a popular scholarship going on then. It was a scholarship opportunity to study in one of the best schools in Lagos state.

Regal High school.

It was owned by the son of one of the traditional leaders in Lagos state.

My chemistry teacher, Richard as I called him since we were close, sponsored me to sit for the exam. He was the only staff that knew about the ugly life I was unluckily trapped in. I once had a crush on him because he was a young and handsome corper.

Dinma didn't know about the scholarship. I didn't tell her because I was afraid that she might ruin it for me. She once prevented me from participating in an art competition. I was very good with paint and charcoal but I preferred colouring. A paintbrush in my hand felt like a key to a world of colours and happiness, a sharp contrast to the world I was used to. One of my pals then, Bolaji, helped me improve my talent. Sometimes we would do some works and sell on the road side or deliver them to gift shops. Painting gave and still gives me joy.

I sat for the scholarship exam. It wasn't an easy one but luckily for me I passed. As long as I had Richard as my private tutor, I was sure to pass.

Yes. He was that good.

I was so happy including Richard that he took me to Iya Bisola Kitchen (a local restaurant) and stuffed me with food. After the celebration party, I knew I had to tell Dinma.

I was sleeping when she came in very late, drunk as usual. I prepared myself to tell her about my latest achievement. I figured she was drunk. I thought if I told her when she was drunk, she may not get hysterical and hit me, like she did anytime she was drunk. But I was damn wrong.

"Welcome," I greeted her.

"Where food?" She slurred in response.

I hesitated a bit before answering. I didn't want to do anything that would ruin my plan. "Food no dey".

"You mean say food no dey this house?"

"Um. . .Yes". The next thing I registered was a heavy stinging slap. I held my assaulted cheek and glared murder at Dinma. It was the worst I could do. If only looks could kill or at least cause any kind of harm or pain.

"Why you no cook?" She yelled at me in her usual pidgin English. I shrunk back in fright. I was sadly so scared of her when she was drunk and it pained my heart that I couldn't even talk back or tell her why there was no food in the house.

She hadn't given me any money for dinner but I didn't dare to say that or I'd be preparing to receive a pestle blow on my head. She was always abusive when she was drunk but then she never regrets it or apologize when sober.

She started panting like a bitch on heat. She went out and in some seconds she came in with a man. I knew what that meant.

Stupid fun time.

I didn't even get the chance to speak to her about my scholarship. Did she even care? Of course not.

I just wanted out. I wanted out of my forsaken life so bad.

While the two used the bed for their unclean business, I went out of the room and sat down on the passage way. I was used to it, the same way I was used to their ugly sounds and the feasts the mosquitoes usually had on my legs.

Mosquitoes sang their high pitched occultic songs in my ears as I tried my best to have a good night rest.

෴

First chapter. I just used it to do an introduction to Nairobi's life.

Sooo how was it and what do you guys think?

Can you try predicting Nairobi's personalities from this chapter?

Don't forget to drop your votes mes amis🥺✨
Also share on any social media platforms that you're on and tag others to read.

Nagode,

Ann✿