Echoes of a Broken Dream

One fateful day, I skipped class as I often did. By this time, it had been days since I last attended school. I was in Secondary 3, and my mother, tired of my truancy, had come to accept that I no longer wanted to go to school. That morning, as she left for the farm, she handed me some documents and instructed me to take them to the hospital for our insurance. The hospital was several kilometers away, and she asked me to leave after her.

Instead of running the errand right away, I stayed at home for about an hour. At around 8:00 a.m., I decided to go to Lily's house. She was there, alone except for her two young nephews—one about five years old and the other barely two. Her parents and older sister, Violet, who was the mother of the boys, were not around, neither was Elena.

When I arrived, my intentions were clear. We wanted to satisfy the desires that had led us astray for so long. To ensure the children wouldn't disturb us, I handed them some coins to buy candies and sent them off. Then Lily and I went inside and indulged in our forbidden actions.

When the children returned, I played with them briefly before sending them off again to continue where we left off. But in the middle of our intimate act, Violet returned home. Perhaps she had noticed something unusual or overheard something, but she approached the house silently.

One of the children outside saw her and called her name. Hearing that, I stopped what I was doing and stepped out. Violet was waiting. She looked at me with a mix of disbelief and anger, accusing me of what she already suspected. Her voice rose as she began calling for neighbors to witness what had happened. Panicked, I fled home as fast as I could.

Once home, I grabbed the documents my mother had given me and rushed to the hospital. After completing the errand, I couldn't bring myself to return. The weight of guilt, shame, and fear consumed me. I avoided the usual path back and took a detour, arriving in the village around evening.

I went to my friend Ethan's house, dreading what awaited me at home. Assuming news of my actions had spread, I feared the worst. But to my surprise, Ethan seemed unaware. We played for a while, but as darkness fell, I confided in him. I told him everything. Ethan was shocked but unsure of how to help me. He advised me to go home, but I couldn't.

Eventually, I sneaked into my house late at night, avoiding everyone. I crawled into bed and tried to sleep, though my heart pounded with fear. Early the next morning, my mother came into my room. Her voice trembled as she asked, "What have you done? This is the end of your life. The authorities are looking for you, and if you step outside, you'll be arrested."

Panicked, I blurted, "But what about school?"

Her voice was like ice, cutting me to the core. "Your school life is over. You ruined it yourself. Now focus on staying out of prison."

That day felt like an eternity. To avoid being seen, I hid in the cellar. From there, I could hear my younger brothers laughing and mocking what I had done. Their words cut deep, and I spent the day reflecting on my mistakes and regretting everything and when the evening came, I climbed down and crawled into my bed.

Late that night, my mother woke me. She whispered urgently, "You must leave. Lily is just 12 and you're 16. If you're caught, you'll face 25 years in prison. Take this food and go to my brother's house. Stay there tonight, and tomorrow morning, head to my sister's home far away."

The meal she gave me—yam, beans, and soup—was the most delicious food I had ever tasted, though it might have been because of the sorrow in my heart. As I sat down to eat the yams, soup, and beans my mother had prepared for me, the reality of my situation hit me like a storm. Each bite tasted bittersweet. I cried silently, the tears mixing with the flavors of the food. My thoughts wandered back to my home—the warmth I was leaving behind, the familiar chaos of my siblings, and the safety of my mother's love. How did I get to this point? How did I destroy everything good in my life?

When the clock struck midnight, my mother whispered that it was time to leave. The moon hung low, casting pale light over the village. The silence was deafening; even the crickets seemed muted. The air was freezing, and as I set off, I noticed the grass glistening with dew that numbed my bare feet. Each step through the cold weighed on me, a physical manifestation of the shame I carried.

By the time I reached my uncle's house, my body was weary, but my mind wouldn't let me rest. My uncle and his wife welcomed me with food and juice, but I couldn't touch any of it. The devastation in my heart dulled any hunger. That night, I lay awake, staring at the ceiling. My mind replayed every mistake I'd made, every wrong decision, and the moment I disgraced my mother, who had done everything to ensure I grew up to be a decent person. I had failed her. The pain of knowing I might never return home felt like a knife twisting in my chest.

At dawn, two of my uncle's elder sons volunteered to accompany me partway to my aunt's. The path was bad and intimidating, shrouded in darkness and fraught with unknown dangers. As we walked, they spoke to me with brotherly concern, reminding me of my mischievous ways. They urged me to change and start anew. I promised them I would, though deep down, I wasn't sure how. Before we parted ways, I told them to inform my mother to give the rest of the belongings I had left behind to my younger brothers.The journey to my aunt's house was long and cold, with dew covering the grass as I walked. I arrived just as the sun was rising.

When I arrived at my aunt's house, she was preparing to go to the farm. She looked at me with surprise and suspicion. Hesitantly, I explained my situation. Shame weighed heavily on me as I stumbled over my words, but I told her everything. Her face was stern as she said, "You can stay here, but you must keep a low profile. No one should see you."

Life at my aunt's house was far from easy. Poverty hung over her household like a shadow. Even basic necessities like soap and lotion were hard to come by, and meals were often meager. Just when I thought life couldn't get worse, my aunt's husband was admitted to the hospital for a serious pancreatic issue. With my aunt away at the hospital, my cousins and I were left to fend for ourselves.

Finding food became a daily struggle. We relied on the kindness of neighbors and extended family to scrape together meals. Once we gathered enough, we cooked and walked over 30 miles on foot to take the food to the hospital. My cousins were much younger than me, so I took on more responsibility. Fortunately, my aunt's husband recovered and was discharged, but the struggles didn't end.

Ethan visited once, filling me in on the situation at home and school. He said only a few people at school knew the truth about my disappearance. A few days later, my younger brothers came to visit, bringing news from home. They told me how my absence had affected everyone. Before they left, I handed them a letter for my mother, pouring out my remorse and promising to change if I ever had the chance.

One morning, as I molded bricks, a younger cousin came running to tell me that my mother had arrived and urgently wanted to see me. I immediately left for the house, my heart pounding with anxiety and anticipation. When I saw her, she almost broke down at the sight of me. I could see the pain in her eyes, the sorrow for what I had become.

"Get washed up," she said firmly. "You're leaving for the city."

Confused, I asked, "What will I do in the city?"

Her reply was curt: "That is not your concern right now. Just go."

We packed my belongings quickly, and my aunt escorted us to the bus stop. As we walked, she placed her hand on my shoulder and said, "My son, you are going to a remote city where you know no one, and no one knows you. You'll be far from your family. There, avoid women, alcohol, drugs, stealing, and every possible trouble."

I promised her I would heed her advice.

The bus ride to the city was long, and my thoughts were as turbulent as the rocky roads we traveled. When I finally arrived, the city lights flickered in the distance, reminding me of the promises and perils that awaited me. As the bus rolled to a stop and I stepped into the bustling chaos of the city, a flicker of hope lit up my heart. I believed I was finally being given a chance—a chance to redeem myself, to start over, and to build a better life. Little did I know, the path ahead would not lead to redemption so easily. Instead, it would hurl me into a storm of trials and tribulations, where life's harshest lessons awaited me at every turn.

To Be Continued...