Early morning. I have somewhere urgent to go in about an hour and half.

Back from my morning jogging routine. Very hungry. Forgot to take my wallet. Had to to go to the room to fetch it.

The atmosphere in the room is different. It’s quiet and a little stuffy. Outside, there’s so much fresh air. I open the windows and leave the door ajar. My roommie is still sleep. He turns as I entered but couldn’t care whatever that squeaking of the door was all about.

I pick a note and step out.

In which direction should I head? I contemplate. Right.

I walk for a little, then a little longer, unable to find any open shops.

“Lazy people! “ I mutter. ” It’s six thirty and shops along a busy street are still closed. “

I’m forced to make a U-turn.

” Should have taken left. ” I scold myself, making the painful return to the road in front of my hostel.

I walk up, further up. No site of an open shop.

“Lazy people! And all these shop owners will definitely be Christians. Zero business ethics. Go see the Muslim shops. Most are opened by now.” the fury-filled words escape my lips.

I stop in the middle of the road. It’s obvious walking further is no use. But how do I leave the house without a good breakfast? My day will be messed up. I need energy to attend to the numerous tasks ahead.

As I’m returning, I see a plump young lady, probably in her late twenties seated on a concrete floor in a corner of the curve leading to the hostel.

Who could she be, and why was she talking to herself? She too seemed angry about something.

She looked like one of those girls who left their homes or villages to live with a man in the city. Perhaps they were having disagreements.

She wasn’t my concern. I quickened my steps while wondering what plan B there was to adopt.

“Excuse me! Are you looking for something?” I turn in surprise in the direction of the voice addressing me. It was the lady seated on the concrete floor.

“I wanted bread. But all the shops are closed.” I told her.

“Go further down the road. There’s a shop opposite the mechanic shop. By this time, they’re usually open.” She informed me.

I thanked her, glanced over the long distance to the shop and thought it was worth it.

“She seems like a nice person.” I thought as I trudged to the provisions shop.

Just as she had said, they were open.
I felt a bit ashamed. One shop operated by a Christian was open. An exception indeed!

“Bread, three cedis. ” I said to the shopkeeper.

” Four cedis. There’s no bread for three cedis. ” the shopkeeper corrected.

” OK. Four cedis. ” I told her.” And Nido, that one. ” I added, pointing to the one I meant.

My order was ready. I paid for it and as I turned leave, I met the lady who directed me to the shop.

” That was fast. ” I thought.

“Thank you.” I expressed my gratitude to her, wondering if she followed me for some reason.

Did she expect me to buy her something as a show of gratitude, or tip her for the service, or ask for her number?

I was unsure. She didn’t look like she needed something from me. Perhaps just a coincidence she was at the shop. I walked on.

A few meters from my hostel, I see a man, a woman and a girl at the entrance of one hostel not too far from ours. Perhaps a family. As I drew closer, the more I felt my guess was right.

The man was talking about something sensitive and dear to his heart. The look on the woman’s face was solemn and the girl listened obediently. He was telling the girl how his father was a poor man, yet tried his best to send him to school and today, he too has had a future.

Today, he too is trying to give his daughter more than he received from his father by sending  her to a good university. He had paid a lot of money as academic and hostel fees.

“Don’t think we’re so rich and don’t know what to do with our money that’s why we’re spending so much on your education. We want a brighter future for you and your siblings. Don’t follow bad friends and make all these investments a waste.” the man advised his daughter.

I was moved. It reminded me of my parents every time one of us was going to school or leaving home to some place. I wondered if all parents were like that. They must talk sense into the heads of their naive wards.

I knew of some rotten girls in my hostel. I wondered if their parents too took time to speak to them before they left home.

But even this girl listening like some well brought-up church girl, only time can tell if she’ll put what she’s hearing into practice.

I hurry to my room, glad that my nutritious breakfast was assured and I will be having enough energy to face the tough day ahead.