SIMOVIA Season 1 - Chapter 1CHAPTER 1: THE LAST DAY AT THE ORPHANAGEThe matron did not look at me when she said it."Eleanor, you are eighteen today. You know the rules."I knew the rules. At eighteen, you leave. The orphanage at Mindolo was not my home anymore. It had been my home for ten years, since my mother died and my father disappeared, but today it was just a building.They gave me a small black plastic bag. Inside was one chitenge dress, a pair of worn-out sneakers, and a small book. My sketchbook."Be a good girl," Mama Mwila said, finally looking at me. Her eyes were red. "God will make a way."I walked out of the gate at 09:12. I remember the time because the watchman’s radio was announcing the news. The gate closed behind me with a loud bang. That bang meant: you are on your own now.I stood outside with my plastic bag. I had nowhere to go. I had K150 that I saved from plaiting hair for the younger girls. K150 cannot even pay for one month’s rent in Kitwe.I started walking. I did not know where. I just walked towards the main road.For ten years, I had a dream. While other girls dreamed of husbands, I dreamed of dresses. I would sit under the mango tree at the orphanage and draw. I would draw long dresses, short dresses, wedding dresses, school uniforms. My friends would laugh."What will you do with those papers, Eleanor?"But I kept drawing. My sketchbook was my only wealth. It had 87 designs. I counted them every night.By midday, the sun was hot. I was hungry. I saw a woman selling fritters by the road."Banene, can I help you wash plates? I just want something to eat."She looked at me and at my plastic bag. She gave me two fritters."Eat. Where are you going?""I'm looking for a room. Something cheap. I can braid hair. I can sew. I know how to sew small."She told me about a compound behind the market where a woman rents rooms for K200 per month. "Go and tell her you are from me. Her name is Bana Joyce."I found Bana Joyce. She was a big woman washing clothes."Room? Yes, I have one small room. K250 now. Things are expensive. K250.""I only have K150," I whispered.She looked at my thin body, my torn sneakers. She sighed."Bring K150 today, bring K100 by end of week. If you don't bring, you leave. And you will clean the toilet for everyone."I agreed. She showed me the room. It was smaller than our storeroom at the orphanage. One small window with no glass. A rusted iron sheet roof. But it was mine. The first place that was mine.That night, I slept on the floor. No mattress, no blanket. I used my plastic bag as a pillow. The roof was leaking because it started raining. Cold water dropped on my face. Drop. Drop. Drop.I did not cry. I opened my sketchbook. In the darkness, I could not see well, but I used the small light from the window. I drew a new dress. A dress for a girl who has no home, but has a dream.I named it in the book: "Design 88 - The Survival Dress."I closed the book and whispered to myself, "Eleanor, this is not the end. Tomorrow, I will go to chisokone Market. I will try to sell my designs.Tomorrow, my real journey will begin.