N500 Naira _ Creative nonfiction

CREATIVE NONFICTION



She had told me not to come back home if i didn't t find the N500 i had earlier misplaced at watt market. How was i supposed to know where exactly the money was. I was tired and i hadn't eaten since the previous night. So i began my journey from ekpo abasi to Watt Market, on my legedez benz.

After what seemed like 20 hours of trekking, i finally got to watt market. Honestly, how she expected me to find that missing N500? I had no idea. Someone could have picked up the money. If only the N500 had her face or phone number inscribed on it then pehaps, just perhaps, a good Samaritan would have returned the money. Sadly this was Nigeria, not Samaria.
So, as soon as i got to etim edem park, i remembered that i had entered one of the road side shops. My eyes began to follow every face intently, maybe i could locate the particular trader who had sold the bag of beans to me.
My eyes still afixed to the faces of the people; i squeezed past a trailer containing softdrinks. As i was crossing to the other side of the road, something hard rammed into my side. The sunlight seemed to be turning red through my closing eyelids.
Every weight and humanly possible pain, i felt in my ribs. People had gathered to watch me writhe in pain. Some sympathizers helped me stand up to my feet, but my feet gave way. That was when i realized that my right ankle was bent and my right foot, swollen. I was just hit by a car.

Because of N500!

AUTHOR'S  NOTE: Actually, i saw this accident exactly last week at watt market. I don't know the young lady but i tried to imagine what her story was. 
There are people out there in the world like her aunt, people who keep children hungry and show them no love. 
Let the love Christ govern all your actions.
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