Chapter One
Abinla got up early in the morning, stretched her aching body before heading for her mother's room. Yawning, she pushed the door open and walked inside. Seeing her mother shivering in the cold, she felt tears stealing into her eyes. Crossing her arms across her chest, she muttered, 'Mum, I know you will get through this.' Then, she reached for her mother's bed, pulled back the covers and wrapped her arms around her mother, feeling her temperature and speaking hope into her life.
'You will be fine. You just need some rest,'Abinla said when her mother opened her eyes. 'Mum, you’ve to be strong for Ayibaemi and I.’
'I will, baby,' Boma muttered, stroking Abinla's hair gently.
Abinla was about to rise from the bed when she caught Ayibaemi watching them from the doorway.
'We don't have to disturb, mum,' said Abinla as she covered her mother, and started for the door, heading for the kitchen. Ayibaemi trailed behind her.
When Abinla put on the kettle to boil water for their bath, Ayibaemi said, 'Sister, get breakfast ready. Leave the water to me. I can do that.'
'Okay, thanks,' Abinla said as she reached for the pot which had last night’s dish. Opening the lid, she said, 'Ayibaemi, let me warm this for mum so she could eat her medicine.'
Ayibaemi brought down the kettle from the stove and placed the pot of Kekefia. He took it down when it was warm, and then placed back the kettle on the stove.
Abinla ladled the dish into a small chipped bowl and took a spoon from the rickety rack close to the window. She took the food into her mother's room and carefully spooned the food into her mother's mouth. Boma ate until she was full. Then, Abinla went to the kitchen and quickly poured a cup of warm water. She put the medicine and water on a chair, and then reached out her hands to hold her mother, trying to help her sit up.
Boma had been sick for almost a month now, and only had the chance to take medicine when her children got money from the empty plastic bottles they picked, littered on the road or thrown in the bush.
When Boma started to sit up, she then felt a slight pain on her head. 'My head hurts,' she murmured.
'You'll be fine, mum,' Abinla said gently, trying her best to reassure her mother that she would get back on her feet.
'I know. Someday you will build us a paradise world,' Boma smiled, teasing Abinla. ‘The towns and villages will be magnificently wrapped in beautiful beaches, ocean views and breathtaking landscapes like you have always imagined. In that paradise, I will be the queen mother. I will always wear long gowns, starry crowns and high heels.’
Grinning, Abinla said hopefully, 'Mum, I am going to do that. I have already imagined what my dream world would be like...before 2200 I will actualise that.'
'We will all die before then,' Boma said, laughing gently.
'We don't need to wait till then...As long as there is life; there is hope for a new paradise.'
Boma nodded with a smile. She laid a hand on Abinla's head. 'I trust you would someday live in the paradise you have always dreamed of.'
Abinla looked at her mother. 'I have lost my father to this disastrous environment. I won't lose my mother. I’ve got to look ahead, not back. I believe that you will be part of this new world,' she added with firmness, ‘You may not understand me now, but I wish you to hold onto my dreams for they will all come to pass. We will be happy again,' she smiled. 'Now it is time to eat your medicine.' Abinla took out the medicine and placed it on her palm.
Boma picked up the medicine with her fingers and put it in her mouth. Then, she took the cup of warm water Abinla handed to her and gently swallowed the medicine down with water. The warm water flowed from her throat to inside her stomach, warming up her body.
'Mum, how do you feel?' Abinla asked her mother as she watched her expression.
'I feel that we are already in your paradise,' Boma said jokingly and Abinla laughed, feeling happy.
'You will lie back down. The medicine will soon take effect, and pretty soon you will bounce back as before.'
'Go and prepare for school. You can't be late.'
'I will,’ Abinla said softly to her mother before leaving the bed and started to turn away.
Boma watched as Abinla walked away with the dishes. Although she was still cold, her heart felt warm, especially when Abinla replenished her with hope.
Abinla took the dishes to the kitchen to wash them and afterwards she took her bath and dressed up for school. Together, she and Ayibaemi headed for school.
In old plastic bags, Abinla and Ayibaemi carried their worn out books, and old water bottles. They each had pens that were not working properly but would be fixed in the school, and thick lead pencils which they would trim down when they got to school as well. Abinla valued her drawing materials more than her school books, so she had to hug her bag to her chest like it was a present direct from heaven.
Their school uniforms were already worn out due to years of washing. Abinla and Ayibaemi along with other school children chatted happily as they walked to school. Most of them carried old lunch boxes while some had a few notes to buy snacks during break, and some like Abinla and Ayibaemi who spent almost all their earnings in buying medicine and food, never carried anything for lunch.
Ogbia Comprehensive Secondary School was several years old. It had been built with block and strong roofing but since the start of oil drilling businesses in the state many houses began cracking and even the roofs have been damaged as well. Of course, Abinla and Ayibaemi’s school was affected by the gas flaring as their school walls had already cracked to the point the students were always praying not to be victims of collapsed buildings.
Since the buildings began to crack, school attendance on any given day became very low. The students preferred to look for what they would do to put food on the table instead of coming to school only to go home with or without any lesson for the day. Even the teachers are afraid to go to school and teach because of the fear that the school buildings might collapse any day. The school yard was always dirty, trash littered around the school. In a school of about eight hundred students only about fifty were seen milling about outside. Where did the rest go? It was obvious that they went to find menial jobs that would give them money for the day.
'We should have gone to the factory to sell the empty plastic bottles that we picked yesterday,' Ayibaemi said to Abinla when they entered the school compound. 'I'm sure we won't learn anything today.’
Abinla looked around. 'That's our teacher,' she said, pointing. 'Isn't that Mr. Johnson your Science teacher?'
Ayibaemi turned and saw his Science teacher with Abinla’s Science teacher standing under a shade of a tree, talking.
'Of course, they are talking about Climate fiction again.’ Ayibaemi rolled his eyes at them. 'How could anyone think of building paradise in a damaged world like this one? I wonder when these Science teachers will stop dreaming about changing the world… If they want to see so many high-rise buildings, why not travel to China or Korea or even to any developed country instead of everyday wishful thinking. I heard that the nightscapes in those countries are breathtakingly radiant. But then, our Science teachers keep talking about the world facing climate breakdown. That means before they fly to those countries we will all break into pieces.' He hissed at the thought of their Science teachers supporting Abinla’s dream of building magnificent paradise in a collapsing world. How is that going to be possible?
Abinla smiled. 'We still need to believe that we will change the world. Of course, we can.' She was a sixteen year old beautiful young girl, though poor, she had big dreams which she was hopeful about.
Ayibaemi shrugged. 'Not sure of this dream of yours. But if you are able to make it come through, then, I will be glad. But we could have been picking bottles to sell instead of wasting our time here.' He rubbed at his nose. 'We just need money, not changing the world.'
'Have you ever thought of becoming the richest man on earth?' Abinla asked.
Ayibaemi stared at his sister, obviously offended. 'What, you think I don't have dreams as well? Go on and build your dream paradise. I will buy it from you, 44billion dollars.'
The two girls with them laughed, including Abinla.
Ayibaemi looked at the three girls. 'Don't you think I would become like Elon Musk or Bill Gates?'
'Really?' A girl carrying a pink plastic bag chuckled. 'If you believe you can become a Forbes Billionaire then I think you should believe that someday your sister will build paradise for us all.' 'I think so,' Ayibaemi said reluctantly.
'I know so,' another girl said, smiling hopefully. ‘Our climate is breaking down. Thankfully, Abinla will help us get a beautiful paradise.’
'If we must build the dream paradise, we have to do it together,' Abinla said with a smile.
'My sister...' Ayibaemi's words were interrupted by the ringing of the school bell, which sent all the students dashing for the door. Abinla and Ayibaemi looked at each other and then with smile on Abinla's face, they walked inside.
'I don't think you will be able to achieve your dream paradise, Abinla,' Ayibaemi said.
'I don't think I will give up,' Abinla said back.
The number of classrooms was two. The first class served those in junior classes from JSS1-3 while the second classroom served those in senior classes, from SS1-3. Abinla and his brother were all in senior class, so they had to stay in one classroom. However, the senior classroom was separated with a wooden divider, which made it seemed as though they were in separate classrooms. The number of teachers was above ten, but since the beginning of the crack buildings, many of them stopped coming. Instead, they ventured into other businesses and came to school once a while.
In Abinla's class, a small blackboard was hanging on the peeling blue wall. Just as Abinla pulled her drawing book from her bag, her Science teacher, Tariebi Dakolo, walked inside; carrying some Science textbooks. The tall, slim teacher was paid a little sum of money every month. Instead of finding a sideline like most of the teachers, she chose to wholeheartedly teach the students. She didn't want to divide her attention, as she wanted to give the students the best she could. Was this her little way of changing the world? Only Tariebi could answer that. Tariebi stood in front of SS3 class, which was Abinla's class. With her dimple smile, Tariebi looked beautiful in her bright floral dress.
'I have to tell us a story which most of you might not have heard,' Tariebi said with a smile.
'What kind of story?' A student curiously asked.
'A story about the beginning of poverty in my village.'
The students laughed at Tariebi’s words.
'We are all aware of how Bayelsa State, which once offered rich pickings for our farmers and fishermen, is today cloaked in oil...' A student said. 'Aunty, please, we would love to hear any story about building a paradise here on earth. I'm just tired of talking about contaminated crops, how our lives have been cut short because of gas flaring, having premature babies...'
'I understand your point, Ayibaefie. But you should know that you can never wave behind our past. We must tell our stories from generation to generation,' Tariebi said.
A student piped in loudly, 'Aunty, is it the story of the Oloibiri community? Somebody told me that you're from this village.'
Abinla glared at Bola, who made a face right back at her.
Tariebi now looked completely flustered. 'Bola, please. Uh, as I was saying, we can't rule behind our past.' She looked at Bola. ‘I know you come from the Yoruba tribe and so might take everything here funny. Maybe, I should tell this story because of you...' She paused. 'Yes, I come from Oloibiri...of course Oloibiri is a small town in Ogbia Local Government area of Bayelsa State. Did you know that the first ever oil was discovered in this community since 1958...'
'I have read that history over and over again. It's so boring,' Bola murmured, yawning tiredly. 'I don't even know why I followed my Aunty to this good for nothing village. I should have stayed with my family in Ikeja,' he complained, regretting ever coming here.
'Bola,' Tariebi said, 'stand up and complete the story.'
Bola reluctantly stood up. How am I going to complete the story? Do I know what was in the teacher's mind? I don't read people's mind, right? Anyway, since it was the story of the popular Oloibiri community, I think I will surprise everyone, Bola thought with a smile. Clearing his throat, he began, ‘I heard from my grandfather that a pipeline was laid from this community to Bonny in Rivers State for Shell oil terminal but despite being rich in oil, your community is still among the least developed in the Niger Delta region. The sign of poverty is glaring around here...'
'Bola, are you telling a story or are you mocking us?' Tariebi angrily asked Bola.
Bola shrugged his shoulders. 'You asked me to complete the story. So, what else do you want to hear?' Bola cursed in his head. Aunty, are you blaming me? Didn't you ask me to complete your story? I just told the story of how my grandfather narrated it to me. I hope you don't blame me. It's not my fault that heaven blessed you with poverty. He scoffed. Your community story suddenly seems to me like a sick cosmic joke...
'Bola, I understand that you don't have feelings for the poor villagers because you come from Ikeja. I'm sure that after a few weeks you will go back home and continue to live the life of the rich,' Abinla turned to Bola and said. 'Our people are dying of pollution every day, we suffer from different kinds of ailment, our rivers are polluted, the fishermen who were known for catching many fishes now go fishing throughout the night and come back with nothing because the fishes are dead...'
'Are your fishermen waiting for JESUS to walk along the seas of your poor community?' Bola said, and most of the students laughed. 'This isn't the seas of Galilee. He would only help Simon and Andrew his brother to catch many fishes...He won't come to this forbidden place.' He scoffed and added, 'Abinla, don't tell me you're one of the disciples of Nostradamus? Are you seeing tomorrow?' He chuckled, feeling suddenly amused by Abinla believing she would change the world into becoming breathtaking.
'Bola!' Tariebi yelled at Bola. 'What is wrong with you?'
'No matter how you yell at me, there won't be any trace of the Federal Government to help you, which is why I would suggest you people protest against the government and all the oil companies around this area. If you don't protest and keep telling stories nothing will change. You people are rich in oil but cannot boast of good power supply, portable water and other social amenities despite the huge contributions your people make to the nation, the Federal Government would never consider developing this place... Facilities in this school are in a sorry state, and every morning you people have to trek over here just to be told stories that ache the heart. How silly!' With that Bola took his seat, prepared for any punishment Tariebi would give him. He wasn't afraid anyway. If he was ousted from the class, he wouldn't bat an eye. He would calmly dust his trousers, pick his beautiful blue high-end backpack and walk away.
The classroom was in total silence as everybody was shocked at his rudeness. Then, Tariebi broke the silence after a moment, saying,' Bola, I understand that you're rude but I still think that you made a point which is why I won't ask you to leave the class. But I will tell you this, in March 2001, the then President of the country, visited Bayelsa State, laid a foundation stone for the construction of Oloibiri Millennium Landmark Projects, which was supposed to house an oil and gas institute but unfortunately for us, the foundation never passed through foundation level. Aside from Oloibiri, other oil communities have also joined forces to grab the government attention, especially to help us with infrastructural development, but nothing was done....The too much gas exploitation has exposed us to unabated pollution which gave rise to health challenges,' she coughed, as if to remind them that she was also a victim.
Abinla reached for her water bottle and handed it over to Tariebi. 'Here.'
'Thank you.' Tariebi accepted the water, took a giant sip and handed the water bottle back to Abinla. Tariebi continued, 'Our once serene environment has disappeared following the exploitation and exploration of oil and gas. The river pollution affected my father who is a fisherman. Today, he is lying sick in bed, and each day, thankful for being alive. Our land used to be green but the brutal impact of oil has turned this place unbearable. Our main source of income is nothing to write home about. No more fishing and no more farming. Air, water and land have all been contaminated.' She shook her head. 'Bola, won't understand our plight. I think we need to take a tour so he would be able to understand the magnitude of the environmental abuse.'
'No way!' Bola objected.
'You can't object because we will all take a tour tomorrow during break. Wear your boots to school tomorrow,' she said in a tone that brooked no objection. With that, Tariebi picked up a stick of chalk and wrote on the small blackboard, ‘Climate Fiction.' She turned back to Bola and said, 'You should never judge anyone before walking in their shoes. Maybe after this tour, you will be sorry for today.'
Bola smiled, looking down at his neatly polished black Louis Vuitton shoes. He was walking in his own luxury shoes, what does he need Tariebi’s cheap shoes for? He thought with a shrug.
The school day ended at two, and the students all rushed to go home, especially those who had businesses to do to enable them to put food on the table. Abinla was about to leave the schoolyard with her brother, but as soon as she saw Bola, she left Ayibaemi and strolled over to him.
Bola was tall, about 180 centimetres, and he looked handsome and elegant but also stubborn and spoiled. He felt that since he was from a rich background, no one has the right to tell him what to do. He wasn't even a student of Ogbia Comprehensive Secondary School. He had only come to stay a few weeks with his aunty. His aunty was friends with the principal, and because she wouldn't want Bola to waste the few weeks doing nothing at home, she decided to give the principal some money to allow Bola to stay here for a while since he was in examination class.
Bola was a student of a renowned secondary school in Lagos State known to have the best teaching standard and the best facilities for learning. Bola, who was tall and handsome, was only seventeen years old, and the only child of his parents. He was born into a mega rich family. His family was among the top five billionaires in Nigeria. Anytime he was holidaying in any country of his choice, he travelled by private jet. Was being born into privilege the reason for his attitude?
'Bola...'
'Why? Are you here to continue the Climate Fiction story? Don't tell me you believe you would build a paradise in just a few years?' Bola said in a loud mocking voice. 'Or do you want an autograph? Or maybe you want to preach to me like Greta Thunberg, Don’t’ just march people tell your parents to fly less, stop eating meat, grow trees, buy organic food, have less children, use public transport and vote for politicians that support green energy and divest billions in fossil fuels…#Climate…I won’t buy it!'
'I need you to apologise to Aunty Tariebi. You were absolutely rude to her,' Abinla said sternly.
'Did she ask you to come to me and request for some money?' Bola spoke louder and arrogantly. ‘Thankfully, you were not born into a military-political family, if not I would have been powerless.'
Hearing this, Ayibaemi turned towards them and said to Abinla, 'We should get going please. Don't waste your time talking to Bola.'
Bola laughed. 'Your brother wants you home. You have plastics to sell, remember? If you don't sell them, you won’t be able to eat tonight. So, go ahead.'
'Why, are you afraid I would punch your back?' Abinla scoffed. 'You're only acting rich because your father is among the politicians that have sucked out our oil and plagued us with unemployment.'
'What's my business if your so-called oil-producing community reeks of poverty?' He pulled out his brown Prada wallet, and took out some one thousand naira notes and pushed them into her hands. ‘I understand you need my sympathy. That would be enough to buy your sick mother medicine.'
'You're good for nothing.'
Bola scowled. 'You better take that back.'
'I won't! You're good for nothing!' Abinla repeated, angrier than ever. 'You think you can buy my integrity with money? What my people need is just to live a green, clean and beautiful life... Not to live like this. Some of us can no longer go to school because our parent's means of livelihood have been affected. Some have been forced to relocate...'
'Go ahead and relocate. No one is stopping you. I'm not the government. Stop bothering me with your problems. You're a good actress. You should be in the entertainment industry and be an Oscar award-winning actress in future. Don't waste your time trying to change the world that you cannot change.' Bola turned to leave, and Abinla stopped him. She tore the money in shreds and tossed them at him.
'I am going to make sure of a green, clean and beautiful future. You'll see.'
Bola laughed mockingly. 'Elon Musk just bought Twitter with some billions of dollars. I will buy that paradise of yours with just a hundred billion pounds...'
'Jack Dorsey sold Twitter for a good reason...' Abinla snapped.
'I will buy your paradise for a good reason as well.'
'You won't be able to buy it. Do you know why? Because, it will be a paradise which everyone would benefit from. We won't dare sell it because it is priceless.'
‘Abinla, I want you to understand that kids from a poor, ordinary family like yours can never outperform someone like me that is born into a mega rich family. I got my first brand new Porsche during my sixteenth birthday. I also got a mansion on Banana Island as a gift. You must have heard of Banana Island, right? It’s among the top seven most expensive places to live in Lagos. As I speak to you my college has been fully paid. I will be studying Computer Science in one of the most reputable colleges in the United States of America. If I mention the name of the school, I’m sure you will faint right now.’ He smiled proudly. ‘Even if I fail in life, my parent’s bank will bail me out…I stand the chance of inheriting five billion dollars. So, I am not even worrying about retirement. What about you?’ he scoffed at Abinla. ‘I understand why you are doing this. You want to live like me. But how will you do that with nothing to inherit from your family? Oh, I see. You will inherit poverty…’
‘You’re right, I was born into poverty. But then, I have read about many very successful people who grew up poor and are today firmly in the top 0.01 percent. I have also read about several people born into wealthy families that struggled with wealth their entire lives. And if the world succeeds in breaking down, your so-called wealth will crumple as well. Before I forget, my mother told me that if I compare myself to the person in the other lane, I’ll lose. She taught me to run my own race, and that I should always focus on winning. That’s what I am doing. So, I don’t need to worry about what advantages other people may have. Rather, I try to use what I have to do to uplift me. I think you should grab a piece of that advice. It will help you as well.’ After speaking, she turned around and walked away with her brother.
Bola stood there, not knowing what to do. But for the first time, he would admit that he was defeated by a girl. Shrugging his shoulders, he headed out as well.
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