EPISODE 1
1761 Words
THE GIRL WHO ALWAYS SMILED
The sun had barely risen over the small village when Nneka opened her eyes.
Their little house was already warm. The walls were old, and the roof had seen better days. From outside came the sounds of chickens and people beginning another long day.
Nneka sat up slowly.
She was still tired.
But she knew her mother had been awake for a long time.
“Mama?” Nneka called softly.
“I am outside,” her mother's voice answered.
Nneka quickly got up and stepped outside.
Her mother was sitting beside a large bowl of vegetables. She was sorting them carefully, separating the fresh ones from the damaged ones.
“Mama, you woke up again before me,” Nneka said.
Her mother looked up and smiled faintly.
“My daughter, somebody has to wake up early.”
Nneka sat beside her.
“Let me help you.”
Her mother looked at her for a moment.
“You should rest small.”
“No, Mama. Let me help.”
Nneka picked up some of the vegetables and began sorting them.
Her mother watched her quietly.
Nneka was still young, but she had already learned things that many children her age should not have needed to learn.
She knew when there was no food in the house.
She knew when her mother was worried about money.
She knew when to remain quiet.
And she knew how to smile even when her heart was heavy.
That was why people in the village often called her—
the girl who always smiled.
Suddenly, a loud voice came from inside the house.
“NNEKA!”
Nneka stopped.
Her mother closed her eyes briefly.
“Yes, Papa!” Nneka answered.
“Come here!”
Nneka stood up immediately and entered the house.
Her father was sitting down.
His clothes were lying on the floor beside him.
Nneka looked at them.
“Papa?”
“Carry those clothes and wash them.”
Nneka looked toward the doorway.
She had only just started helping her mother.
“Okay, Papa.”
She bent down to pick up the clothes.
Just then, her mother entered.
“Papa Nneka,” she said quietly, “she is helping me prepare the vegetables.”
The man looked at his wife.
“So?”
“She will help you later,” Nneka's mother said.
The father frowned.
“Is she not my daughter?”
Nobody answered.
Nneka held the clothes tightly.
Her mother looked tired already, and the day had barely begun.
“Give me,” Nneka said softly.
She carried the clothes outside.
As she walked away, her mother watched her with sadness.
Nneka's father expected things from everyone.
But when it was time for him to provide for his family, he always had an excuse.
Later that morning, Nneka's mother finished arranging her vegetables.
She tied her wrapper properly and prepared to leave for the market.
But before she left, she stood in front of her husband.
“Papa Nneka.”
He looked up.
“What?”
“Do you have any money?”
The man immediately looked away.
“What money?”
“Money for the house.”
“I don't have.”
Nneka's mother stared at him.
“Nothing?”
“I said I don't have.”
She took a slow breath.
“The children need food.”
He remained silent.
“Things are getting difficult,” she continued. “Our children are growing. We need to buy food. We need to take care of them.”
The man shook his head.
“Every day, money, money, money. Do you think I am printing money?”
His wife looked hurt.
“But I am the one doing everything.”
“Then continue doing it.”
The words hung heavily in the room.
Nneka, who was washing clothes outside, heard the raised voices.
She stopped moving her hands.
Inside, her mother became quiet.
For a moment, she simply stared at her husband.
Then she shook her head slowly.
Without another word, she picked up her basket of vegetables.
As she walked outside, Nneka quickly stood up.
“Mama.”
Her mother forced a smile.
“Yes, my daughter?”
“Are you going to the market?”
“Yes.”
“Should I come with you?”
Her mother looked at the pile of clothes.
“Finish what you are doing first.”
Nneka nodded.
“Mama.”
“Yes?”
Nneka hesitated.
“Don't worry. Everything will be okay.”
Her mother looked at her daughter.
For a few seconds, she could not speak.
Then she gently touched Nneka's cheek.
“You are always smiling.”
Nneka smiled again.
“One day, Mama, things will be better.”
Her mother turned away quickly and began walking down the dusty road.
She did not want Nneka to see the tears gathering in her eyes.
---
The market was already busy when Nneka's mother arrived.
She arranged her vegetables carefully and waited for customers.
Some people bought.
Some asked for prices and walked away.
Others promised to return.
Hours passed.
The sun grew hotter.
But Nneka's mother remained there.
She had no choice.
If she did not sell enough vegetables, there might be nothing for the family to eat.
Back at home, Nneka finished washing her father's clothes.
Her brother came outside.
“Nneka.”
She looked up.
“What is it?”
“I am hungry.”
Nneka looked toward the kitchen.
There was almost nothing there.
“Wait for Mama.”
Her brother frowned.
“But I am hungry now.”
Nneka tried to smile.
“I know.”
She looked around, thinking.
“Maybe we can find something small.”
The two children searched the kitchen.
But there was very little.
Nneka sighed.
Her brother sat down sadly.
Their father was nowhere around.
Nneka looked toward the road.
“Where is Papa?”
Her brother shrugged.
“He left.”
Again.
Nneka said nothing.
Their mother would return later.
Tired.
Sweaty.
Carrying whatever little money she had managed to make.
And she would still have to think about food.
Still have to think about the children.
Still have to think about tomorrow.
---
When Nneka's mother finally returned that evening, her steps were slow.
Nneka ran toward her.
“Mama!”
Her mother smiled weakly.
“My daughter.”
“Did you sell?”
“A little.”
Nneka took the basket from her.
“Mama, my brother said he is hungry.”
Her mother's smile disappeared.
She looked toward the house.
Then she looked into her small purse.
There was very little money inside.
But she sighed.
“Come.”
She used part of the money she had made to buy something small for the children to eat.
That night, as they sat together, Nneka watched her mother.
Her mother was barely eating.
“Mama,” Nneka said.
“Yes?”
“You are not eating.”
“I am fine.”
Nneka knew that answer.
It meant there was not enough food.
Before she could say anything else, her father walked into the house.
Nneka's mother looked at him.
“Where have you been?”
The man ignored the question.
“Where is my food?”
Nneka's mother stared at him in disbelief.
“Food?”
“Yes. Food.”
She stood up slowly.
“Papa Nneka, you left this morning. You did not leave money. You did not ask whether your children had eaten.”
The man frowned.
“So now you want to start again?”
“Start what?”
“Your complaining.”
Nneka sat quietly.
Her brother lowered his head.
Their mother looked from her husband to her children.
Then she spoke, her voice shaking with frustration.
“Look at your children.”
The father remained silent.
“Look at them.”
He looked briefly in their direction.
“What?”
“They are hungry, and you are asking me where your food is.”
The man's face hardened.
“Must you talk every time?”
Nneka's mother shook her head.
She was tired.
Tired of working.
Tired of worrying.
Tired of carrying everything alone.
But she still had to continue.
Because her children needed her.
The father sat down angrily.
Then, after a moment, he looked at Nneka.
“You.”
Nneka looked up.
“Yes, Papa?”
The man stared at her.
“This girl is growing.”
Nneka's mother immediately looked at him.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean what I said.”
He leaned back.
“One day, you people will stop disturbing me about money.”
His wife frowned.
“Papa Nneka, what are you talking about?”
The man waved his hand carelessly.
“This Nneka... she is not a small girl forever.”
The room became quiet.
Nneka looked at her mother.
Her mother's face changed.
“Don't start,” she warned.
The father laughed.
“I am only talking.”
“Don't talk like that about my daughter.”
Nneka did not understand everything they were saying.
But she could feel the tension in the room.
Her mother moved closer to her.
Almost as if she wanted to protect her.
“Leave my daughter alone,” she said firmly.
The father scoffed.
“Then continue suffering.”
Nneka's mother looked at him with pain in her eyes.
But she said nothing more.
She simply placed an arm around Nneka.
That night, after everyone had become quiet, Nneka lay beside her mother.
“Mama?”
“Yes, my daughter?”
“Why does Papa always make you sad?”
Her mother was silent.
Nneka turned toward her.
“Mama?”
Her mother gently stroked her hair.
“Don't worry about grown people's problems.”
“But I worry.”
Her mother smiled sadly.
“My daughter, you have a good heart.”
Nneka was quiet for a moment.
Then she said, “I will grow up and make plenty money.”
Her mother smiled.
“Is that so?”
“Yes.”
Nneka nodded seriously.
“I will take care of you.”
Her mother pulled her closer.
“And I will make sure you have a better life,” she whispered.
Nneka smiled.
She believed her mother.
She believed that one day, everything would change.
But neither of them knew that change was already coming.
And when it finally arrived—
it would take Nneka far away from the only life she had ever known.
TO BE CONTINUED...
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