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ISADORA EPISODE 1 - Literature - ECHOnigeria

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ISADORA EPISODE 1 by chinny(f) : 10:33 am On May 03

Story based on true life experience.
2nd February 2012
Scene 1 begins with Val’s side of the
Driving down the lonely hills of Nsukka
after a very extensive research work for
my new book, I was very tired and a bit
restless as I planned my schedules for
the weekend without concentrating
much on my driving. Walking down
absentmindedly on the middle of the
same road was this young girl with an
empty tray on her head. I never saw her
on time and almost knocked her down
if not for my powerful brakes which
screeched the car to stop just hairs
breathe away from her. Out of shock,
the tray on the young lady’s head fell
and rolled over to the gutter while I
rushed out of the car to see if she was
alright. She turned to look at me that
moment and it was as if the world came
to a stop as our eyes met.
Before me was the most beautiful girl I
have ever seen. She wore no makeup,
she was sweating, her clothes were far
from elegant but yet her beauty
overshadowed it all. It was as if I was
standing before the Nigerian version of
‘’I’m sorry I wasn’t paying much
attention but you were equally walking
in the middle of the road. Hope you are
okay?’’ I nervously asked as I headed to
the gutter to pick up her tray. She
nodded with eyes filled with tears,
quickly collected the tray for me and
drew backwards.
‘’I’m sorry for almost putting you in
trouble. Forgive me’’ she breathed
fluently, surprising me with her English.
But before I could say anything further
she was already walking down the
‘’my name is valentine, can I, can I drop
you where ever you are going?’’ I
stammered. I couldn’t even believe
myself. It was my first time of offering a
lift to a stranger. But unfortunately she
gave me no reply, neither did she stop
for a second. Hesitantly I headed back to
my car and drove away, wondering if I
would ever see her again in my life.
Isadora’s side of the story
One hundred, two hundred, three
hundred, I counted the money with me
for the umpteenth time. It was money I
made from the sales of Udara (African
apple) I sold at the Afor market close by.
I was very lucky to sell the apples on
time and was rushing home to prepare
lunch for my adoptive family who
derived pleasure in abusing me, in
finding faults in everything I did.
I wasn’t brought up with happiness like
other village girls. I was brought up
with daily abuses, stigmatization and
curses. I was told that I was an evil child
that brought misfortunes to my
biological parent’s right from when my
mother was carrying me in her womb. I
was equally told that six months after I
was born, my parents burnt to death in
their house with every single property
in it and I was found untouched by the
fire, laughing hysterically on my baby
bed. It was a story I was told a hundred
times over and I really had no way of
verifying the authenticity.
Yes my head was filled with my
childhood memories that I never knew
when I started walking in the middle of
the road only to get myself when the
noise from a screeching tire brought
me back to reality.
I soon found myself facing a very
handsome gentleman who never
scolded me for being in the middle of
the road, for almost putting him in
trouble. Instead he asked if I was
alright. My heart, my soul, my entire
body just quivered before him. At first I
thought I shivered out of fear but then
inside of me I felt something I had
never felt before and had to walk away
to avoid disgracing myself further.
Valentine was the name he called to me
and It kept ringing back in my head
over and over. Deep down I felt like
chatting endlessly with him, sharing my
problems with him but all I could do
was to walk away without looking back.
I soon saw his car speed away and I
couldn’t help but wonder if I was ever
going to see him again.
On getting home I ran into my mother
who instead of welcoming me back
happily for making a quick sale, began
scolding me for not sweeping the
compound and fetching water before
heading to the market, forgetting she
was the one that asked me to abandon
everything and head to the market to
sell her Udara fruit.
I tried to remind her but it only landed
me three dirty slaps on my cheek. I was
hungry, angry and tired of life. I was
nineteen and saw no future before me.
I knew all my adoptive parents were
planning was to marry me off to the
highest bidder. Yes by God’s grace I
already managed to finish my secondary
school with the help of church
scholarship but that was the end. Since
then my parents had virtually refused
allowing me to go learn a trade or even
do something that would help me in
future and I couldn’t help but realize
that the more I stayed with them the
more I was ruining my life. i made up
my mind that very day to leave the
house, to run away, to run to my future.
A very daring decision, a very risky
adventure. I had no money with me, no
destination in mind, only God and fear
in my heart.
I sneaked out of the house later that
night and stepped into the unknown.




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