WHEN THE RAIN STOPS FALLING.

EPISODE 3: THE BATTLE BEGINS

The days blended together in a fog of fatigue and unrelenting expectations. The brutal reality of survival was gradually replacing the intense sorrow of loss. Every morning, I felt the burden of responsibility fall on my tired shoulders as I packed Oyinye into her small, handcrafted rucksack and gave her a cheek kiss before heading out to work.

I was aware that I had to ensure our future together. However, the journey was not simple. I went back to a job that was both terribly unfamiliar and all too familiar—one that I never thought I'd have to take in order to make ends meet. My coworkers nodded sympathetically, but I could see an unsaid query in their eyes: How can a woman who is so broken possibly continue?

I stretched every naira, studied hitherto unknown talents, and spent endless hours going over financial statements. Determining to set a fresh course, I went to evening classes. But sometimes the load was nearly too much to handle. I was reminded that being a single mother was still a journey fraught with loneliness and condemnation by the murmurs in the neighbourhood and the occasional look. I had the impression that I was always on exhibit, my hardships exposed for everyone to see and comment on.

I negotiated a maze of self-doubt in the privacy of my tiny flat. On certain evenings, I would sit at the kitchen table and hug Oyinye close as I questioned whether I had the strength to continue. I would follow the fading lines of her face and discover the reason I couldn't afford to give up in her naive eyes.

However, I learnt something new about resilience from each setback. Every obstacle taught me survival skills, and every little triumph—whether it was a work bonus or a worry-free day—kindled a new passion inside of me. I made a commitment to fight for our future because I believed that even in the most dire circumstances, the fight was planting the seeds for a life that would be rebuilt with meaning.