Her Name Was Survival:A Nigerian Girl’s Escape From Lagos To Canada

On a cold, windy morning, the trees outside danced and the crickets sang their last song of the night. In a small, old room at the back of the house, Ada lay on a thin mat, covered with a worn wrapper. She curled up tightly, her stomach twisting with hunger. She hadn’t eaten since yesterday. Tears slipped down her cheeks, but she made no sound. Crying never helped in this house. All she could do was think. Why did my mother leave me? Why do they hate me so much? Then she heard it. Heavy footsteps, getting closer. Ada wiped her eyes quickly and pretended to sleep, pulling the wrapper over her head. The door creaked open. “Wake up, bad luck!” It was her aunty, Agnes. A large woman with a face that never smiled. Without warning, she poured dirty water straight onto Ada’s mat. “Why are you still sleeping?” Agnes shouted. “Get up! Go and prepare food for me and my daughters. Stella and Ella are hungry, and you know what happens if they wait.” Ada sat up slowly, shivering from the cold water and the cold words. Her uncle Emmanuel’s wife, Agnes, treated her like a slave. But Stella and Ella, the twin daughters, lived like queens. They didn’t lift a finger. All they knew was makeup, mirrors, and fighting over boys. Ada stood up. Her legs shook. “Yes, Aunty,” she whispered. She didn’t know that today, her life would change forever.