Dream Paradise (Chapter Two)

 Chapter Two  

  By Nightengale Ben-Onyeukwu 

The following day, during break, just as Tariebi had said, she took the ten regular SS3 students for a tour. She wanted them to feel the pain of living in this kind of place; thereby they would have the motivation of thinking of ways to build a beautiful future for themselves instead of waiting on Shell and the Federal Government who for years have done nothing.

 'Hope you all are wearing your boots?' Tariebi asked, leading the way. She was wearing a blue-coloured jumpsuit, black boots, and her hair was tied up in a messy bun.

The students replied in unison. 'Yes, Aunty Tariebi.' 

 'Where is Bola?' Tariebi glanced around. 'Okay. Here you are.' Seeing him, she turned forward, and continued on the journey. 

Bola rolled his eyes at Tariebi's back, hating the fact that he was on this journey. Just then, he saw a young boy hawking roasted plantain. 

'How much for a slice of plantain?' Bola asked the boy who was dressed in torn shorts and a faded shirt. Glancing around he saw other hawkers in hole-ridden shorts which were just as worn out as their faded shirts. He looked back at the young boy he called to buy roasted plantain from and asked, ‘How much for all of them?' Was Bola being sympathetic? Or was he trying to show off as usual?

 'Just give me five hundred naira,' the boy pleaded. 'My mother is sick. I need to buy her medicine. Your money will help us a lot.' 

Bola said nothing as he took out his new white high-end wallet and said, 'I want all of them. You can keep the change.' He handed the one thousand naira note to the boy and he wrapped all the plantain in a bag. 

 'Gas flaring has affected everything. Our crops, plantain are not doing well again,' he said to Bola.

  'Do you need some hazard allowance?' Bola asked. This time he wasn't sounding rude but gentle. 

The boy smiled and said instead, 'Thank you, sir...I'm grateful for the money.' Happily he ran back home, perhaps to buy medicine for his sick mother. 

Bola took a slice of plantain and ate. Then, he offered some to the students. Some accepted the plantain while some refused to eat. Those who didn't eat the plantain were still mad at him for being rude to Tariebi. They wanted him to apologise to their teacher. But it seems Bola is stubborn and proud. Would he change after this tour? Maybe, he would or would not.

 Bola took his Eva bottle water from his bag, and drank from it. He caught Abinla's gaze and she immediately looks away, cursing at him. 

'Your hair needed to be plaited,' Bola said. ‘I will take you to the women who plait hair in the market, ' he laughed, as he reached out to touch her hair but Abinla’s piercing gaze stopped him mid-air. 'Your hair is starting to slip out of the twists. I just need to run my hands over your loosening braids and remind you that you won't be accepted in paradise with that hair of yours.' 

Abinla rolled her eyes at him and said nothing. 

 'Oh, I really miss the sweet-smelling rain,' Bola said when it began drizzling. 'I just hate the smell of this one.' He wrinkled his nose. 

 'Our place was once green and clean,' Tariebi said when they stopped to see a once prosperous farm now cloaked in oil. 'Almost every day we hear of oil spill but nothing is done to clean the mess. Before, we had clean water,' she said as they continued, pointing at the damaged water. 'But now, we can't even boast of good drinking water. Fishermen spend the whole day without catching any fish...'

'One of the most diverse ecosystems in Africa is now at risk,’ Abinla added. 

 'This is what happens when you pay too much attention in school,' Bola chuckled, taking a bite of another slice of his plantain. 

 'Due to gas flaring our air is now filled with pollutants, which has created acid rain.' Abinla glanced over at Bola, her gaze descended on the roasted plantain in his hand. 'These must have been contaminated.' 

 'I didn't need them anymore,' Bola said, tossing the remaining plantain into the bush. 

Abinla laughed at him. 'That serves you right.' 

 ‘After this trip, Bola's stony heart will melt,' a girl said, fiddling with her fingers as she looked ahead at the group of old women coming towards them. They seem frustrated with the way they walked. They were all carrying their farm tools, and dressed in their farm dress. 

'Where are you all going?' A woman who was carrying an empty basket on her head asked the students. 

 Tariebi smiled. 'We are on a sightseeing tour.' 

 Bola forced a cough from his throat, trying not to laugh. Abinla glared at him, and he shrugged like he never cared. 

'Well, I hope your tour is for something good,' the woman said, ignoring Bola's silly ways. 'Our people are dying in silence, our youths are now jobless. Oil spills have sacked us farmers. The oil companies have damaged our environment and left us poorer than before. We have no electricity, no water, and no good roads.' The woman put arms around Abinla's shoulders.  'You will get us out of this mess, won't you?' 

Abinla looked at the woman and smiled. 'Of course, if we must achieve a good breathing environment, we must do it together.' 

The woman smiled, patting Abinla's shoulder, she walked away, feeling optimistic. 

 Bola chuckled. 'That's our Abinla,' he said. 'Everyone takes her to be the saviour of Bayelsa State. But I feel that we are doing nothing but hunting wild pig...I forgot to wear a riding doublet and hose,' he scoffed. 

Abinla rolled her eyes at him. 

 'Did you hear the old woman?' Bola chuckled, amused. 'Your people were already poor before but now you blame your poverty on gas flaring, oil exploitation and oil spill... Can’t you people speak the truth for once? Here I was thinking Abinla was a poor heiress that would regain her family fortune and sit on the throne as a princess.' He shook his head. 'What a bunch of liars!' 

 'Yes, we never had enough but you should never forget that our lands were green and clean. We used to have a bountiful harvest. We would stay at least one hour in the water and everywhere would be filled with fish. We were happy, had a fresh breath, enjoyed the sweet smell of the rain, and weren’t afraid of cracking walls collapsing in on us. No one fell sick like we do now. But everything changed since the oil drilling business. Now we are all facing environmental catastrophe.' 

 'Were you born when all these started?' Bola teased her. 

'You're always so annoying,' Abinla huffed, walking up to meet with a girl who was calling her to have a bite from her stale bread. 

 'Thank you, Amaoge,' Abinla hungrily took a big bite of the bread and flushed it quickly down with her water. This was the first bite of food she had taken since morning and she felt happy and a bit strong.

 'Nice to see you all having a good time,' a voice said. 

They turned and saw Mr. Johnson standing not far from them, wearing a black vest and white trousers, with a book in hand, and a beautiful smile in his eyes. 

'Tariebi,' Mr. Johnson said, pushing his glasses up his nose, 'why did you decide to tour this place?' 

Tariebi pointed at Bola, 'Well, I happen to have a student who doesn't care about others.' 

 They all stared at Bola. Bola looked sad. He wasn't happy about Tariebi saying he never cared for others. 

 'Maybe you would change after this,' Mr. Johnson said to Bola. 

'What are you doing here, Mr. Johnson?' Tariebi asked, looking at the tall Mr. Johnson. 

Mr. Johnson looked at the students and replied, 'I am here to keep you company.'        

 The students laughed, except for Bola who looked sad or rather remorseful. 

Leading the way this time, Mr. Johnson took them to the nearby Shell Petroleum Development Company. 'Many people cannot sleep anymore due to continuous gas flaring from these oil companies. Since the start of this gas flare we no longer sleep comfortably like before. No one drinks from the rain water because when it rains the water will be covered in soot,' he said, pointing at the water which was already covered in soot. 

'What you mean by soot is that when it rains the layer of the water will turn black?' A boy who had been silent since the journey spoke up.

 'Yes,' Mr. Johnson answered. 'Nearly every facet of our lives has been affected. Because of joblessness the majority of our youths have joined militancy and other vices that are inimical to the society,' he spoke as they walked on. 'We no longer enjoy the nightlife of gathering together enjoying folktales because of the fear that we might be attacked anytime. We no longer sit under the shade of trees, savouring the cool air as we tell the story of the Tortoise and other interesting stories of our culture and tradition. Anyone might say that the diseases caused by this mess are much higher than the popular Corona Virus.' He stopped talking and spoke after a moment of silence, 'Those affected by the oil pollution should be given proper treatment, and those not affected yet, should be taken proper care of.' 

'The more the climate changes, the shorter the life span,' Tariebi added. 

 'Maybe if we embark more on technology, we might be safe,' a student suggested. 

Abinla looked at trees that were dying. 'It surprised me when I first saw this place. It was really flourishing with palm trees.' 

Amaoge glanced around. 'Well, change is something that happens anytime. Bayelsa had been a state flourishing with trees, farm produce and clean water. But now Bayelsa state as well as other Niger Delta regions are almost moving to total collapse. All we see is oil in the forest. No more periwinkles to pick. No more crabs in the river. The creek is sick. A house can collapse anytime because of too much cracking. Who knows in ten years' time this place might not be here.' She eyed Abinla and grinned. 'But I am still optimistic because you have your dream paradise spurring us every day.' She looked around. ‘I tell you what; I think we don't need the government to help us anymore. We need to help ourselves if we want our land flowing with milk and honey. Suppose we finally actualise this dream of yours, then I will buy you lunch.' 

Abinla looked around. 'Where?' 

'A place I think you'd like, Abinla. You would like to have lunch in White House, right?' Amaoge stuck out her tongue playfully. 

 'White House?’ repeated Abinla. 'But you don't have White House Passes. I understand, we will teleport to White House.' She chuckled, pinching Amaoge's arm playfully. 

Abinla's smile faded when they saw a great throng of people in a clearing, some of them were youths of the state who were filled with bitterness, and a few were sick men and women who had come to do harvest for their farm produce only to harvest nothing due to oil choking the land. Majority of them looked sick and needed urgent medical attention.

Glancing at Mr. Johnson, Tariebi said, ‘How can we help these men and women?’ They are sick and need to take care of themselves.'

 'Can I help a little, Aunty?'

 Tariebi shook her head without looking at Bola. 

 'Right now we need to help these people,' Abinla said to Tariebi as she moved further to check on the men and women. 'If Bola can help send them to hospital or give them food, we should let him.'

 'So that he would end up mocking them?' Amaoge snapped. Her voice was filled with bitterness and contempt.

 'My family is rich,' Bola said proudly. ‘Abinla now understands why it is necessary to be rich instead of being poor and boasting of building a paradise which doesn't exist.' 

There was a sudden silence. Heads turned, and all eyes fixed on Bola, who gazed back at them arrogantly, then on Abinla, who looked as though she had just been cursed to be poor. Mr. Johnson stepped forward to put a hand on her arm, then he looked up at Bola with a piercing gaze.

Bola looked away, muttering, 'I'm sorry.' 

 Abinla smiled, then she reached for her plastic school bag to get the medicine she had bought for her mother this morning after selling some plastic bottles on her way to school, she realised that her shabby purse had gone. She had wanted to give the men and women the only money she had as she was hopeful to make some sales before the end of today. 

 She panicked as she checked her plastic bag thoroughly, then the pocket of the school uniform she wore, and then she looked round the place. 'My purse is missing...I had one thousand naira in it. I want to give it to these men and women.' 

'Have we been burgled on the tour?' Bola said, chuckling. Then, from nowhere he lifted the purse and asked, 'Is this the purse you're looking for?' 

'You took my purse?' Abinla took the purse from Bola appalled at the thought of him taking her purse without her permission. She opened it and was surprised to see stacks of one thousand naira notes.

 'Give the money to the people, please. Look, I knew we would meet sick people on the way. So, I had to put the money in my backpack to help them.  You can hate me all you want, but please, give them the money. They are in dire need of it.' 

Abinla wanted to give Bola back his money but then, she realised that these men and women needed money desperately. Sighing, she handed the money to Tariebi. 'Aunty, please.'

Tariebi nodded, taking the money after a long pause. Then, she walked over and handed the money to them. ‘I know we can't give you enough but we hope these little tokens will solve a few things for you.' 

Abinla handed them the medicine, and said, 'Get well soon.' 

Tariebi, Mr. Johnson and the students passed little children playing on the streets, many with dirty faces and bare feet and runny noses. Some of the neighbours united in their sorrow, talking about having little or nothing. Some were seriously sick and needed urgent medical attention.

 Next, Mr. Johnson showed them many animals lying dead in the forest, and some on the streets. 'Forest has become quieter than centuries ago,' Mr. Johnson said, ‘No more singing birds, only a few surviving birds crying in the forest.' 

'What about lions?' A boy asked in a hushed tone.

 'Human activities have erased most of the animals,' Tariebi answered with a sigh. 'The surviving ones are escaping to a gentler climate.' 

As if on cue, some animals were seen running away to a gentler climate that would not harm them.  Most of the trees held no branches which birds could nest and serenade on, so they decided to fly away too.

Was this animal’s world war? Abinla couldn't help but think as she watched the animals run to safety. What about the fishes? The surviving ones must have swum to other clean rivers.

Abinla's boots sank halfway up her calf as well as the boots of other students and the teachers, when they got to a muddy land soaked almost in oil. Their clothes were stained with oil. The most pitied was Mr. Johnson who was wearing white trousers, which had now turned into dark colour.

Looking ahead, they saw some Niger Delta militants boarding a van. The sight of the men loaded with arms made Abinla shiver. Lack of job and hardship turned these men into becoming militants. 

After they had toured for like two to three hours, Tariebi said to the students, 'As you all go home I want all of you to figure out the best ways we can help Abinla fulfill her dream paradise. In a simple sentence, find solutions that would help everyone savour the clean cold air we had lost.'

 With that, everyone headed homeward instead of going back to school. However, Abinla raced down to the pharmacy that she often bought medicines from. She had given out the last money she had and so there was no penny in her purse. Hoping for a miracle, she checked her purse again and never found any money. With no other options, she headed to the pharmacy, hoping that they would sell medicine to her on credit since she was their regular customer. 

She ran through the market, seeing young boys and girls hawking in their moth-eaten blouses and shirts. Most of their clothes were slipping off their shoulders. It was a sorry sight.

The pale-looking market women kept on calling customers to buy from them, hoping to sell all their produce, even though most of what they sold looked rotten.

Abinla smiled when she caught sight of a hawker tossing a twenty naira note at a beggar by the roadside. She could feel the smile that appeared on the face of the beggar when he picked up the money.

 ‘Everything will be fine someday,’ Abinla muttered, assuring herself even more as she hurriedly passed the half-naked mad or rather insane people near the trash dumps. She quickly turned her face away at the sight of some men who casually stopped to unzip their trousers to urinate at the corners.  What else could they do? Since there were no toilets or lavatory anywhere around the market, they had no choice but to urinate at the corners. They couldn’t pee on their trousers, could they?

Abinla scrunched up her nose at the smell of the urine, and the dirt that had filled up the market aisles. The time will come when toilets and conveniences will be built in market places and none of you would have to urinate at the corners of the markets, Abinla thought hopefully. That day was coming; she could feel it in her heart.

Reaching the pharmacy, she quickly ran inside, not minding her sandy boots and stained uniform. 'Good afternoon, Ma’am,' Abinla greeted smilingly at the nurse who was standing behind the counter, eating corn and ube, her favourite combination.

The nurse glanced at Abinla and smiled. 'Are you here to buy another medicine for your mother?' She was looking smart in her white lab coat. 

Abinla smiled awkwardly. 'Yes...but this time I will buy them on credit...may I ask if you would sell the medicine to me? I promise to pay later.' Though Abinla felt quite embarrassed, for the sake of her adoring mother, she was willing to do anything. 

 'What about the medicine you bought in the morning?' The nurse asked Abinla. 'Did you give it out? I know you are Mother Teresa...' 

'I had no choice than to do what I did,' Abinla said, coughing. 

The nurse turned around to search the glass cabinet but remembering that her boss told her in the morning not to sell on credit anymore, the nurse stopped opening the cabinet, and turned back to Abinla, who was waiting for the medicine. 

 'I'm sorry,' the nurse said. 

Abinla had walked inside the pharmacy, hoping that she would buy medicines on credit for her mother only to hear disappointing words. Was she wrong when she gave her medicine to those sick men and women? 

What's more, having had an empty stomach since morning, her stomach had been growling. Could she have caught an ulcer? Having grabbed a bite of stale bread from Amaoge was still the reason she could walk up to this pharmacy, Abinla thought.

 The nurse couldn't help but blame her for deciding to help others instead of keeping the medicine for her mother who was the main reason she had bought the medicine. 'I know you want to save the world but never forget to save your family first.' The nurse stared at her as if she was giving her some lectures. 

 'I understand,' Abinla sighed, and turned to leave.

The nurse suddenly stopped her and said, 'There is something I would give to you for your mother.'

When Abinla heard that the nurse was going to give her something for her mother, she quickly turned to look at the nurse and said, 'Please, what?' 

The nurse smiled, and said, 'Bamboo leaf tea...' She walked over and retrieved the Bamboo dried leaves from the glass cabinet by the window, putting them in a box. She had dried the leaves when she returned to Imo State with them. 'I brought the leaves when I travelled to Imo State. The leaf tea has astonishing health benefits. All you need to do is to brew the tea leaves in your tea pot...'

 'I know how to make the tea,’ Abinla excitedly said, reaching out her hand to take the box. 'My friend Amaoge gave me a handful of them when she visited her village in Imo State.'

Grinning, the nurse said, 'I harvested the fresh bamboo leaves, then I had to allow the leaves to dry. I also enjoy drinking the fresh ones.' The nurse was willing to talk more to her because she could see that Abinla loved her mother very much and was willing to try anything that would keep her mother to her feet. 'Also, when you are about to give the tea to your mother, you could add some honey...'

 'The bees are on the run,' Abinla said and the nurse chuckled. 

Abinla glanced at the clock on the wall and wanted to leave already to prepare the tea for her mother, for she felt that her mother needed to take the tea already. If she didn't leave, the nurse might continue to lecture her. She wanted to leave but didn't know how to do it. The nurse gave her the tea for free, so she didn't want to be rude. 

The nurse saw that she wanted to leave and said, ‘I won’t stop you from leaving. Your mother needs the tea.'

When Abinla was about to go, she suddenly paused, turned back again, and said to the nurse, ‘Thank you so much. I sincerely appreciate it.' 

 'Make sure to give her a cup every day. Sometimes, we don't need tablets, we need tea. Bamboo is one of the world's fastest growing plants. Just like coconut, almost all parts of the bamboo plant can be utilized.'

 'I get it,' Abinla smiled and turned back to leave.

At the home of Abinla, Ayibaemi took some boiled plantain to his mother, who sat up on her bed, playing a card. Boma was trying to be strong, so she felt that playing card games would help her. The glow of the lantern illuminated the room. With her thick dark hair, and the gentle illumination around her, the woman seemed replenished with hope.

 'Had to boil some plantain for you,' Ayibaemi said softly as he walked in and sat next to his mother, placing the bowl of plantain on a chair, he picked up a piece and began to feed his mother. 

Boma smiled. 'Ayibaemi, I am not handicapped. I can feed myself.' 

'No, I should feed you,' Ayibaemi insisted. 

 'What time is it?' Boma asked after a while.

 'Almost five.' 

'Five! Why isn't Abinla back?' Boma was worried.

 'They went for a jungle tour,' Ayibaemi said, sounding amused. 'You know how much your daughter wants to save the world? I'm sure she is saving the world right now,' he chuckled.

 Boma glanced at the door, wondering why Abinla wasn't back by now. If she was going to sell empty plastic bottles, she sold them mostly with Ayibaemi. She would have been aware that her children were going out for the reason of picking and selling plastic bottles. Boma was worried that she had to stop eating the plantain, and stepped out of the bed, touching the cold floor which sent a shiver down to her brain.

'Mum,' Ayibaemi walked up to help his mother back to the bed. 'She will be back. Abinla hasn't saved the world yet, so she won't die until she has done that.' Ayibaemi tried to convince his mother not to worry. 'If you hadn't sold your phone, you could have called her. You don't have a phone, Abinla doesn't have one. So, you have to wait for her to come back.' 

'I don't regret selling my phone to feed you and your sister...'

'Mum, I don't want to cry. I hate to tell our poverty story,' Ayibaemi said jokingly and Boma smiled, wiping up her eyes which were filling up with tears. 

 Just then, Abinla came in and ran to the bed, looking worried. 'Mum, are you okay?' She asked worriedly. She reached out her hand and touched her mother's forehead to feel her temperature. 'You're a little bit cold.' 

 'Mum, has been worried about you,' Ayibaemi replied in lieu of his mother. 

Boma stared at her daughter but didn't say anything. She was happy her daughter was back home, happy that her daughter had a kind heart.  She reached out and caressed Abinla's face, her calloused hand suddenly became so smooth and refreshing to her tired face that Abinla couldn't help but let out a tear.

'Mum, I am sorry,' Abinla whispered. 'I gave some people the medicine that Ayibaemi and I bought for you this morning,' she paused. 'I should have shut my heart and brought the medicine to you...but those people were so sick that I couldn't watch them die. I gave them the one thousand naira that was in my purse as well...'

Boma placed a finger on Abinla's lips, stopping her from speaking more. 'I understand. You did the right thing.' 

Abinla cast a glance at Ayibaemi. 'Have you eaten already?' 

Ayibaemi nodded. 'I was able to sell a few plastic bottles. I used the money to buy us plantain. Yours is in the kitchen.' 

 Abinla smiled at her younger brother. Then, she opened the box. 'The nurse gave me some bamboo leaf tea. I will make some for you, mum.' Abinla ran out to prepare the tea for her mother. 

Within a few minutes, Abinla came back with the cup of bamboo tea. She put it in her mother's hand and said, 'Please, try and finish it. I added glucose into it.' 

Boma nodded with a smile. Ayibaemi didn't say anything. He sat on the bed, watching as his mother took a giant sip of the steaming hot cup of tea.

After Boma finished the cup of tea, she looked up at Abinla. 'I think I like it more than the tablets. I feel warm now.' 

 'Really?' Abinla felt her mother's temperature again, and she smiled when she found out that it was not as cold as before. She turned to Ayibaemi. 'You have to drink a cup as well. I will go change my school uniform. I look like a muddy child,' she jokingly said as she rose to her feet. 

Abinla walked to the small room she shared with her brother and gently, she changed into a worn out dress. After Abinla changed her dress, she went to her school bag and pulled out her drawing notebook. The blue notebook had started to lose its colour but was beautifully engraved Dream Paradise at the top of the notebook. On the front page of the notebook were the words of George Monbiot, the British writer known for his environmental and political activism; Nature is a tool we can use to repair our broken climate…these solutions could make a massive difference, but only if we leave fossil fuels in the ground as well. How possibly are we going to succeed in avoiding climate breakdown without nature? Was that really possible? Abinla had thought.

Settling herself on their old bamboo bed, she opened the second page of her notebook and began to look at her drawings, which had beautifully drawn flowers, lakes, water fountains, trees, animals living friendly with humans, the birds chirping sweetly, monkeys jumping from one tree branch to the other happily eating bananas. Then, suddenly, she remembered the bamboo tea, and thought of including the tree in her drawing. She believes that growing billions of trees across the world is the easiest way to tackle the climate crisis. 

Abinla smiled, and muttered, 'Dream Paradise.' 

Closing her eyes, she envisioned herself walking among lush trees, plucking colourful flowers and enjoying their scents, the bright moon lavishing the world with brilliant lights, the ripening fields and colourful forests, the fields filled with abundant harvests. She thought of the delightful fields of flowers growing generously here and there, beautiful land of sunshine, butterflies flitting from one flower to the other. She imagined herself staring at the upper reaches of happy trees and listening to the whistling of the wind, causing the leaves to dance, and the melody the singing birds had. 

Abinla couldn't stop to envision these wonderful things, the savouring clean cold air, the warmth of her hands, flower bud on her head, her white dress swaying gently in the wind, basket of fruits on her table, beautiful houses, beautiful pathways, and animals living happily with humans.

Beautiful day would arrive, Abinla thought with a sweet smile, and with it comes my Dream Paradise, everything would flourish. We all would be alive to welcome the new dawn.

For a few minutes, Abinla stared at her drawings, and felt that she had a destiny to fulfill, dreams she had already imagined, of a future that is filled with sunshine, happiness and laughter. However, for her to show the path to a clean, green, and just future, for her to bring the world into flourishing, she would have to work towards it. 

Just then, she remembered the assignment Tariebi gave to her classmates, about bringing a solution that would help her Dream Paradise come to actualisation, Abinla couldn't help but smile. Then, after she closed her notebook, she closed her eyes again. But this time, she fell asleep.                                                                                  

The next day, Abinla woke up so late for school. It was about eight o'clock that she was awakened by her mother's footsteps. Immediately, she woke up, and throwing her wrapper, which served as a blanket, she got out of bed.

 'Mum, why didn't you wake me? I am late for school,' Abinla complained but wasn't appalled with her mother. 

Abinla rushed out to the bathroom for a quick bath. She came back to the bedroom, dressed in her uniform. She was so tired yesterday that she didn't have the strength to wash them. 

Boma, who was sitting on the bamboo bed, looked up at her daughter, frowning at the stained uniform. 'Wear something else. Your teacher will understand.' 

 Abinla sighed and took off the smelly uniform, then went to her box and took out an old brown blouse and faded pleated black skirt. She had always put her clean clothes in the box of empty noodles, which she had gotten from a provision store. Then, she took her dried dress hanging by the window and folded it into the box. Grabbing her school bag, she started for the door but paused in her tracks when she heard what her mother said about food waste environmental impact. 

 'According to research, food waste produces 3.3 billion tons of carbon dioxide, a greenhouse that contributes to climate change,' Boma said. 

Abinla turned to her mother as she said, 'Honestly, if food waste were a country, I'm sure it would rank the highest in population,' she laughed.

 Boma laughed as well. 'You're probably right. Since you want to change the world, I think it's necessary for you to know that for us to have our land rolling clean and green, we are not only tackling oil pollution, we should also try to solve the problems of food waste by turning them into treasure. The careless way of people throwing plastics, paper, metals, grocery bags, razors and other things into the oceans without considering the inhabitants of the water, should be stopped. Carelessness by humans can also cause danger to our health.’ She paused and said after a moment of silence, ‘Abinla, humans often rely on greener economics and reducing greenhouse gas emissions to tackle climate change but we should know that when living systems are allowed to recover they can suck carbon dioxide out of the air and lock it up. My point is, according to an environmental activist, if we preserve species or rather wild animals it would help slow down the Earth’s Sixth Mass Extinction that scientists say we are living right now. This is why we should stop animal exploitation.’ She paused. ‘The problem with the world is greed. We go for things we do not need or already have in triple.’ 

'Yes, you're right,' Abinla nodded in approval. 'I think environmental education should be included in our curriculum.' 

 'People should never forget to protect water for the future generation,’ Boma continued. ‘ The earth might be blessed with water or rather many bodies of water, but it is good for us to know that less than 1% of the water on earth is fit for these uses; Agriculture, Transportation and recreation, Industries and domestics. However, the remaining 99% is found in oceans, which is saltwater and not good for consumption or maybe frozen in the polar ice caps, or too difficult to reach for practical use by cities or communities…once we understand how much we use water, this would help determine how much water our household could save for the future. Drought could happen anytime and climate change has the potential to increase stress on water resources. In other words, we should learn to protect water. People should also never forget to dispose of biodegradable and non-biodegradable wastes and avoid littering them around.' Boma paused for a while and said, 'Just like you, I want to see ripen fields and colourful flowers, want to see farmers at work harvesting their impressive farm produce, want to see butterflies flitting from flower to flower, want to see chirping birds flying high above, heading in V-formation. It would be a beautiful sight, right?' 

Abinla smiled sweetly. She went to her mother and hugged her. 'You know too much,' she whispered. 

'That's because I am a Science teacher.' She pinched Abinla's cheek playfully. 

'How could you forget that so soon?' 

Abinla chuckled. 'Tell me, what else do we need to do?’ 

'According to my research, the world faces two existential crises; climate breakdown and ecological breakdown. If we want to welcome a green and clean environment, then we should help each other. We should work hard to achieve a clean and green environment... I can't wait to sit on the bench while looking in admiration at the colourful and beautiful world.'

 'Green is beautiful, and clean is green,' Abinla said, releasing herself from the hug. ‘Greta Thunberg, the Swedish environmental activist, inspires me a lot.’ 

‘Who is she?’ Boma looked up at Abinla and asked curiously. 

 ‘Didn’t you know? Greta Thunberg is known for challenging world leaders to take immediate action for climate change mitigation.’ Laughing, she added, ‘She persuaded her parents to adopt lifestyle choices that reduce their own carbon footprint.’ 

‘Ooh, I see,’ Boma chuckled. ‘Don’t tell me to become a vegan,’ she pouted her mouth playfully and Abinla laughed sweetly. 

‘I will have to go.’ 

 ‘Are you sure?’ Boma smiled as she held out Abinla's drawing notebook. 

With a sweet smile Abinla reached for the notebook and headed out after bidding her mother goodbye. Her mother was feeling better now, Abinla felt happy about that. 

  Abinla raced to school, and rushed to her seat.

 'I'm sorry, Aunty Tariebi. Sorry I was late,' Abinla said to Tariebi who was chalking something on the board. 'I woke up late. My mother wanted me to have a good sleep so she told my brother not to wake...' She looked round and saw that the class was almost empty. There were only two students in the class instead of the regular ten students. What about the other eighty students? Anyway, no one ever talked about them, for they would never show up in class, they would only be seen during the West African Senior School Certificate Examination. So, she should only worry about the other regular seven students who weren't in the class. 

'Abinla, it's all right,' Tariebi said. 'Amaoge just travelled to get some Bamboo trees for planting. Bola had contacted his parents to order for flowers, and he has also written to the Federal Government to join you in your vision of Clean, Green, and just Future. You know his father was the former governor of Lagos State, and also All Progressive Congress presidential aspirant.' 

Abinla sat down on her seat. From the corner of her eye she saw that Mr. Johnson was there. Maybe he was here to help with her vision as well, she thought, turning to greet Mr. Johnson with a polite smile. 

On the desk before Mr. Johnson were about four or more daily national newspapers; The Guardian, Vanguard, Punch, Daily Trust and a few others. All the newspapers he was holding talked about the environmental abuse caused by the oil pollution.

 'Instead of processing gas, oil companies chose a cheaper way of burning it as a waste product...' Mr. Johnson said to Abinla. He was dressed in a brown shirt and black trousers. He didn't wear his black rimmed glasses today but he had a straw hat sitting on his head, which made him look handsome.

 'That's very wrong,' Abinla remembered what her mother told her about the environmental impact of food waste. 

 'I know,' Mr. Johnson sighed. 'For years I have been creating technology that would suck out oil from the ground without damaging the land,' he smiled. 'I succeeded.'

Abinla smiled. 'That's nice to hear.'

  'Recently, I read about a South Korean Professor Cho Jae-weon who designed an eco-friendly toilet connected to a laboratory that uses excrement to produce biogas and manure.  According to him, faeces have precious value to make energy and manure. I am glad that he put this value into ecological circulation. Cho said that an average person defecates about 500g a day, which can be converted to 50 litres of methane gas...’

 ‘Has anyone started to use the toilet?’ Abinla asked curiously, smiling.

 ‘Yes,’ Mr. Johnson replied. ‘The environmental engineer devised a virtual currency called Ggool, which means honey in Korean. I googled it and found out that each person using the eco-friendly toilet earns 10 Ggool a day. Students at UNIST can use the currency to buy goods on campus, from freshly brewed coffee to instant cup noodles, fruits and books. Also, students can pick up the products they want at a shop and scan a QR code to pay with Ggool.’

‘I think I like Cho Jae-weon already,’ Abinla said happily. ‘He is the kind of man the world needs. He is saving the world in his own little way. I like this technological advancement.’ She glanced at Mr. Johnson and asked, ‘Where actually does he stay?’

 ‘You want to meet him?’ Tariebi asked, smiling. 

 Abinla laughed but didn’t reply. She had only asked that just to know more about this man that was able to turn faeces into something treasurable. Yes, she knew that faeces could serve as manure for farmers but didn’t know that it could become a source of energy for powering a building, powering a gas stove, hot water boiler and other things.

‘Cho Jae-weon is an urban and environmental engineering professor at Ulsan National Institute of Science Technology in South Korea', Tariebi said to Abinla.  ‘So, if you want to meet this professor that has turned human waste into green energy, he would be glad if you turn your poop into green energy. Honestly, you will receive a reward.’

 ‘Poocoin, Shitcoin…’ Mr. Johnson said, chuckling. 

Both Abinla and Tariebi chuckled as well.   The other two students in the class were busy drawing in their large drawing books. They didn’t seem interested in Abinla, Tariebi and Mr. Johnson’s conversation. 

‘Our urine can be used as an effective and sustainable fertiliser for agriculture,’ Tariebi said when the chuckling died down. ‘A Singaporean brewery has just made a new beer from recycled sewage and urine. The drink was given the seal of approval for international safe drinking standards and deemed clean enough to use in brewing a pint.’ She smiled. ‘People are now collecting litres of urine and recycling them for useful purposes. When we collect and purify urine separately it becomes more environmental friendly than simply allowing it to flow into the sewer. Everyday scientists are finding renewable sources to power the world in more sustainable ways. We are no longer going to imagine building an eco-friendly world; we are going to turn our imagination into reality. Everything will work out fine if we work together, and depend on each other.' 

Abinla smiled at Tariebi. 'Of course, Aunty. Nothing is a waste. If we can recycle liquid gold of wastewater and turn it into sustainable use, then we can recycle anything.' When she lifted up her desktop to put away her books, she saw a piece of paper, which had a flourishing writing. Curiously, she decided to read through it. It was written by Bola, and she read it quietly to herself; 

Abinla, I am...sorry. I made you angry. I have also apologised to Aunty Tariebi…I promise to help in the best way I can to bring the land rolling in green and clean...it's me Bola Tinubu.

Abinla looked at the yellow piece of paper, at Bola's carefully written apology with such careful strokes and she felt that he must have thought it through before writing to her. He was indeed sorry. 

 'Abinla,' called Tariebi from the blackboard. 'Is your mother doing all right?'

  Abinla closed her desk and looked at Tariebi, who stopped writing and turned to face the class. 'Yes,' said Abinla.