I've got a story! Story!

Akin lived in Aawe
In December 1982, Akinwumi was born to the family of Mr. Adelakin. Mrs. Adelakin was a principal in a secondary school in Oyo. Though she was richer than her husband who was a bricklayer at Bond Chemicals Ltd, she remained humble, gentle, caring, godly and hospitable to him and all students in her school, so much that all parents admired her for her skills at handling children. This family of five children was happy; the bills were paid on time, delicious meals were always on their table (in fact, the family had timetable for their meals), their clothing needs were always met, and construction work was been done on the site for their new house. Akin, being the last born, was always acting like the mummy’s pet. It was all fun.

It was a Wednesday, in July 11, 1984. The afternoon was bright and sultry; the morning drizzle had already been swallowed up by raging sun. Mrs. Adelakin, who was pregnant at this time, entered a taxi after celebrating the mid-term break with her family. She was going back to Oyo. The taxi had slowed down a bit since this pregnant woman stepped into it; even the birds of the town had wished her well, and all looked fine until a scream covered up the croaky noise of the rickety car on the “semi-tired” road. “Blood, blood, blood …”, that was a scream from the lady beside Mrs. Adelakin in the car. “This is a miscarriage”, a woman unconsciously muttered, “No, it can’t be; this pregnancy should be about four months old”. The blood was from Mrs. Adelakin’s body. She was rushed to the State Hospital in Oyo and the doctors and nurses did what they were trained to do.

Then it was Friday, two days after Mrs. Adelakin’s haemorrhage. What a day is this? Oritamerin market was deserted as market women would not shade their products, the roads to the farms lacked patronage as the talking drummers filed in the town center, playing their drums to say “Oju opo di, enu isa n saisan”, “iku, iku alumuntu”, "Omi gboro titi". The students arranged themselves like throngs of ants following the hooting ambulance, the only car on the road to Odo Oje Cemetery. The rest of the town followed the file soberly with eyes laced with balls of tears. Mrs. Adelakin’s body was lowered into the grave and each of the children, apart from Akinwumi - who was just one and a half years old- sprinkled dust on the coffin as it was the tradition. This they did in turn as the Baptist pastor recites “Eeru fun eeru, erupe fun erupe”. Million words of condolences were offered to the bereaved and everybody went back to his house. Iya Tisha, as Mrs. Adelakin was popularly called, was buried and then the story about Akin, the poor little boy, started.

Hmm, this story continues in Part 2, posted already in this blog on May, 2006. Go to read about his life, his suffering, his self esteem, his thought about life, his struggles, his attitudes to education, his trials, his triumphs, etc shall it unfolds. The story is exemplary, quite educative, motivating, god-centered, challenging, hope-inspiring and humorous. Don’t miss it; you may see your story in the life of Akin as you read along.