Tears of an Orphan
Thank you for reading this post, don't forget to subscribe!Episode 7
© Francis Mary Solomon
Caleb swallowed hard, then whispered a short prayer in his heart, asking God to touch the madam’s heart. Finally, with trembling lips, he spoke:
“Ma, I truly need your help. I came to Lagos yesterday with my uncle, but I am stranded. I don’t know where to go, and I don’t have anything on me. I haven’t eaten since morning. Please, ma, I need your help. I am willing to wash dishes in exchange for a plate of food.”
The woman looked at him quietly for a moment, her face softening with pity. Then she turned to her worker and said,
“Amarachi, get him any food he wants. When he is done eating, pack some rice with chicken and a bottle of water in a nylon for him. Do you hear me?”
“Yes, madam,” Amarachi replied quickly and left for the kitchen.
The woman’s eyes then shifted to the ladies at the dishwashing stand. Her tone grew sharp and commanding:
“As for you ladies, stop mocking people who come here for help. Don’t treat anyone like trash when they are in need. You don’t know where you will meet them tomorrow. And don’t do good only because you expect something in return. Be kind for kindness’ sake. I don’t ever want to see you laughing at or insulting anyone who pleads for food. Even if you cannot help, at least don’t insult them. That is wrong!”
The ladies immediately bowed their heads, shame written all over their faces. “We are sorry, ma,” they murmured softly.
The madam gave them a firm look, then turned back to Caleb. Her voice softened, almost motherly.
“My son, don’t worry. You can eat here. Forget about washing dishes. Just eat and be at peace.”
Caleb’s eyes filled with tears. He knelt down to thank her, showering prayers and blessings on her, but she quickly held his hand and made him stand on his feet.
Soon, Amarachi returned with a plate of swallow and steaming egusi soup. Caleb sat down and ate to his satisfaction, lifting his heart in silent gratitude to God for touching the madam’s heart.
When he was done, Amarachi packed some rice with chicken and a bottle of water in a small nylon and handed it to him. Caleb smiled faintly, his heart warm with thankfulness.
For the first time in many days, he felt a glimmer of hope.
At Olajide’s house, Cynthia was overwhelmed with weakness and tiredness. She felt feverish, yet when she told her guardians about it, no one seemed to care.
Greatness, however, had overheard Cynthia’s complaint to her parents and felt deeply troubled. It pained her that Cynthia was being treated like trash, even though some families at least showed care to their house help.
Later that night, after dinner, Cynthia dragged herself to the bathroom. The warm water felt good at first, but when it started turning cold, she quickly finished up. Wrapping a towel around herself, she was about to rub petroleum jelly on her skin when she heard a knock at the door.
Her heart skipped in fear, thinking it might be Eric, coming to disturb or molest her. She froze, not answering. But then she heard Greatness’ gentle voice from outside.
“Cynthia, it’s me. Please open the door.”
Relieved, Cynthia tied her towel tighter and opened the door. Greatness stepped in, her face full of concern.
“I overheard you telling Mommy and Daddy about how you’re feeling, but they refused to help. Tell me exactly what’s wrong, so I can go to the chemist and get you some medicine,” she said softly.
Cynthia’s heart swelled with overwhelming love and gratitude. At last, someone in the house cared for her. She explained her symptoms, and Greatness wasted no time—she sneaked out of the house and returned with medication.
“Take this secretly,” she whispered. “Don’t let them know I bought it for you.”
Cynthia’s eyes watered. She hugged Greatness tightly and showered her with prayers and blessings.
The next morning, Cynthia was allowed to go to school, though she was only given a small breakfast while the family ate to their fill. Greatness and Eric, as usual, were given proper food to take to school. Cynthia, however, was left with nothing extra.
Her school was far, a thirty-minute trek from the house. She had no money for transport, so she walked. By the time she arrived, she was already very late and missed the morning assembly.
When she entered her class, her classmates laughed mockingly. The teacher turned to her, clearly surprised and displeased.
“Where are you coming from, Cynthia? Why are you this late?”
“From home, ma,” she replied nervously, her voice trembling. “I’m sorry. I promise to come early next time. I had to trek here.”
The teacher raised an eyebrow. “Where do you stay that you need to trek this far? Why don’t you follow the school bus?”
Cynthia lowered her gaze, trying to protect the image of her guardians. “Nothing, ma,” she murmured.
“This is the last time I will pardon you,” the teacher warned. “The next time you come late, you will be punished. Now go to your seat.”
“Thank you, ma,” Cynthia whispered, quickly hurrying to her desk. Her chest rose and fell heavily as she unstrapped her bag and took out her notebook.
She tried to copy the notes already written on the board, but she had missed part of it. Leaning toward her seatmate, she asked quietly, “Please, can you help me with your book so I can see where you started?”
Her seatmate passed her notebook. Cynthia carefully counted the lines to mark the point she had missed, leaving space so she could copy it later.
This was her usual habit. Whenever she was unable to complete her notes or assignments, she used break time to catch up. Since she was never given money for snacks or lunch, she stayed in class hungry, reading or updating her notes while others went out to eat.
One of her classmates, Rita, had been observing her closely. That day, during the break, while Cynthia was engrossed in copying notes, Rita quietly walked over to her desk.
Inspired by the Great Teacher.
To be continued…
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Stay blessed until we meet in the next episode.
Written by Mary Francis Solomon.