CHAPTER TWO
1169 Words
The days that followed felt the same on the surface, yet something within Chidera had shifted. The idea of leaving—of finding a life outside the narrow streets of Benin City—had rooted itself deep in his mind.
But dreams were useless without money.
So he began with what he had: his time and his strength.
Every morning, he left home before sunrise to search for small jobs. Some days he carried cement blocks at a construction site; other days he helped traders offload goods at the market. The pay was always tiny—barely enough to buy food—but he forced himself to save little amounts in a red plastic container he hid under his bed.
One morning, as he lifted a heavy bag of onions from a truck, the trader supervising him shook her head and laughed.
“Omo, you strong o,” she said. “You sure say na only food you dey use this power for?”
Chidera smiled weakly. “If strength be money, I for don rich.”
The woman laughed again. “Just keep working. Better days dey come.”
He nodded but didn’t reply. He had heard “better days” too many times to believe it blindly.
---
His mother noticed the change.
“You’re working yourself too hard,” she said one evening as he came home covered in dust.
“I’m fine,” he replied quickly, avoiding her eyes.
“You leave before I wake… you return when night don fall. Wetin you dey chase like this?”
“Nothing, Mama,” he muttered.
She studied him quietly for a long moment. “You think I don’t see the way you look at the road sometimes? As if something far away is calling you.”
Chidera’s chest tightened. “Mama, I’m just trying to help.”
“I know,” she whispered. “But don’t carry the whole world on your head alone.”
He forced a smile. “I’m managing.”
She nodded, though her eyes stayed worried. Mothers often hear the truth even without words.
---
Weeks turned into months.
The savings grew slowly—painfully slowly.
Some days, frustration overwhelmed him. One afternoon, after hours of carrying cement blocks, he dropped onto a wooden bench beside another young labourer.
“Guy, I no fit do this forever,” Chidera muttered.
The other boy laughed tiredly. “You think anybody here wan do am forever? Na so life be.”
Chidera shook his head. “But is this… all there is?”
The boy shrugged. “If you wan find more, you go find am. But nothing dey easy.”
His words sat heavy in Chidera’s stomach.
---
Then, one afternoon at the market, Chidera met someone who accelerated everything.
A tall man in his thirties approached him after he helped unload a truck of rice sacks. The man wore dark glasses and smelled faintly of expensive perfume—out of place in that dusty market.
“You work hard,” the man said. “I’ve been watching you since morning.”
Chidera frowned slightly. “Good afternoon, sir.”
“Are you interested in making more money?” the man asked. “Maybe something outside this city?”
Chidera hesitated. “What kind of work?”
The man smiled vaguely. “Opportunities. Movement. Connections. Many young men from here are traveling to Libya. I help arrange the journey.”
Chidera’s heart jumped. “Libya?”
The man nodded. “Yes. From there, life can open for you.”
“How much does it cost?” Chidera asked carefully.
“The full journey is expensive,” the man said. “But you don’t need the full amount. You pay a part now, and finish the rest when you reach there. If you’re serious, you’ll find a way.”
Chidera swallowed. “And… is it safe?”
The man tilted his head. “My brother, nothing in life is fully safe. But many people go, and many succeed.”
He handed Chidera a small scrap of paper with a phone number.
“If you change your mind, call me.”
Chidera pocketed it silently.
That night, he pulled out his red container from under the bed and counted the money again. It wasn’t enough—not even close—but it was the most he had ever saved in his life.
For the first time, the dream felt real.
---
One weekend, he met up with Kayode, who had made even more progress.
“I’m almost ready,” Kayode said proudly. “By next month, I’ll travel to Kano first. From there, Libya.”
Chidera swallowed hard. “Doesn’t the journey scare you? The desert… the stories…”
Kayode looked at him with a strange smile—half excitement, half fear.
“Everything scares me, bro. But staying here forever scares me more.”
Chidera nodded slowly. “I met someone at the market today.”
Kayode raised a brow. “Who?”
“Tall man. Claims he helps people travel.”
Kayode chuckled. “There are many of them. Some legit, some no be. Wetin he tell you?”
“He said I don’t need the full money.”
Kayode shook his head. “Of course he would say that. But still… sometimes that’s how people start.”
“I know,” Chidera whispered. “I just… I don’t want to remain stuck.”
Kayode placed a hand on his shoulder. “Don’t rush. Think. Plan. Your time go come.”
---
As December approached, pressure intensified at home. Their landlord threatened eviction again. His mother’s occasional illness grew more frequent. The little food they had seemed to finish faster each week.
One night, while lying on his thin mattress, Chidera heard his mother coughing softly in the other room. The sound tore at him.
He turned to face the wall and clenched his fists.
“I will not let my life end like this,” he whispered.
It wasn’t a reckless vow.
It wasn’t a childish fantasy.
It was survival.
Later that week, he sat outside the house, staring at the road. Blessing passed by with a basket of oranges.
“You look like someone that lost money,” she joked.
Chidera forced a smile. “Just thinking.”
“You think too much,” she said lightly. “One day your head will explode.”
He laughed weakly. “Maybe.”
She eyed him more seriously. “Whatever you’re planning… be careful.”
He looked up, startled. “Planning?”
She shrugged. “You’ve changed. Everybody can see it.”
Chidera said nothing.
But deep inside, he knew she was right.
He didn’t know how, or when, or what he would face, but he knew one thing:
The road to Libya had begun the moment he stopped accepting the life he was living.
And soon, the small steps and quiet sacrifices would lead him to choices that could not be undone.
- Writer
