The desperate billionaire

Chapter4:The journey To The Unknown

The next morning, I woke up very early, even before the roosters started crowing. I had packed a small bag with one change of clothes and the little money I had saved. My mother came to my house before sunrise to take Amara, who was still sleeping peacefully on her mat, unaware that her mother was about to leave on a journey that might change everything.

I kissed Amara gently on her forehead, careful not to wake her up because I knew if she opened her eyes and saw me leaving, I might not have the courage to go. My mother hugged me tight and whispered prayers of protection over me, asking God to watch over me and guide my steps.

The bus to the city leaves from the main road, which is about two kilometers from my village. I started walking in the dark, carrying my small bag and wearing my best dress, which is not very fancy but at least it is clean and has no holes or patches. The road was empty and quiet, with only the sounds of night insects and distant dogs barking to keep me company.

As I walked, I thought about what lay ahead of me. I had never been to the big city before. I had heard stories about it from people in my village who had traveled there. They said it was a place of tall buildings that touched the sky, cars that moved so fast you could barely see them, and people who walked quickly without smiling or greeting each other. They said it was easy to get lost in the city because everything looked the same and there were so many streets going in different directions.

I was afraid, but I was also determined. I kept reminding myself why I was doing this. Somewhere in that big city, there was a man who was dying, a man who needed help, and maybe, just maybe, I was the person God had chosen to help him.

When I reached the main road, there were already other people waiting for the bus. They were mostly men going to the city to look for work, and a few women who were taking their farm produce to sell in the city markets. They looked at me curiously, probably wondering why a woman like me was traveling alone to the city so early in the morning, but nobody asked me any questions.

The bus arrived just as the sun was beginning to rise, painting the sky with beautiful colors of orange and pink. It was an old bus that looked like it had been running for many years, with rusty sides and seats that had torn covers. I paid the driver my fare and found a seat near the window, pressing my small bag close to my chest.

The journey took eight long hours. The bus stopped many times along the way to pick up more passengers and to let people off. We drove through small towns and villages, past farms and forests, over bridges and through valleys. I watched everything through my window, amazed at how big the world was outside my small village.

Some of the passengers were talking and laughing with each other, but I kept to myself, lost in my own thoughts. I was thinking about my daughter, wondering if she had woken up yet and discovered I was gone. I was thinking about the rich man whose story I had heard on the radio, wondering what kind of person he was and whether he would even want help from someone like me.

As we got closer to the city, the landscape began to change. The small houses and farms gave way to bigger buildings and busier roads. I started seeing things I had only heard about in stories, huge shopping centers, petrol stations with many pumps, billboards advertising products I had never heard of.

Then suddenly, we entered the city itself, and I felt my heart beating faster with a mixture of fear and wonder. The buildings were so tall I had to crane my neck to see their tops. There were cars everywhere, more cars than I had ever seen in my entire life, moving in all directions, honking their horns, stopping and starting at traffic lights. There were people walking on the pavements, all dressed in nice clothes, all looking like they had important places to go and important things to do.

The bus finally stopped at the main bus station, which was a huge place full of noise and confusion. People were shouting, buses were coming and going, vendors were selling food and drinks and all kinds of things. I got off the bus feeling overwhelmed and small, like a tiny ant in a world of giants.

I stood there for a moment, holding my small bag and looking around, not knowing where to go or what to do next. I had the name of the hospital where the rich man was being treated. I had heard it mentioned on the radio, but I had no idea how to find it in this massive city.

I saw a woman selling newspapers nearby and I approached her nervously. "Please, sister," I said politely, "can you tell me how to get to the Central City Hospital?"

The woman looked me up and down, taking in my simple village dress and my worn out shoes. "That hospital is very far from here," she said. "You need to take a matatu, it will cost you about fifty shillings."

Fifty shillings. I calculated quickly in my head. That was money I had been planning to use for food. But I had no choice. I thanked the woman and went to find the matatu she had told me about, praying that I would have enough money left to survive until I could get back home