Chapter 4: Difficult Decision And Painful Good-bye (to be Continued in the next page)

Tears rolled down Benice’s face again. Because deep inside, she knew the truth. “Please I am hungry". Benice demanded.  Immediately, one of the women rushed to her house. She brought a plate of porridge yam.  Benice ate voraciously like a hungry lion and slept off.  She woke up early in the morning when Mama Amah had already boiled some water for a sit-bath with salt in order to avoid infections.  "Aww thanks very much mama! Oh! It's nothing, that's much that women could do for one another in distressed situations.” Replied Mama Amah. After some days of exhausting the money in the envelope, Mama Amah could barely feed Benice and her child.  Life had just become much harder for them.  Weeks turned into months, each day dragging by with the same heavy silence that hung over Mama Amah's small hut. Nothing came easy. The tiny room, built with weak mud walls and covered by an old rusted zinc roof, had become both a shelter and a prison. When rain fell, droplets leaked through the holes in the roof and landed in small bowls arranged carefully around the room. When the sun came out, the hut became unbearably hot, making the baby restless and uncomfortable. Life in Mama Amah's hut was far from easy. There were days when there was no food at all except water. Little Eunice survived mostly on breast milk, but even that was becoming a problem. Benice's body was weak from hunger, and because she barely ate enough, the milk no longer flowed in the quantity her baby needed. Each time Eunice cried from hunger, Benice's heart shattered into pieces. She would hold the little girl close to her chest, tears sliding silently down her cheeks. I'm sorry, my baby,she would whisper over and over. I'm trying. The little money Mama Amah made from selling charcoal, roasted corn, matches, and a few household items on the old wooden table outside the hut was all they had. It was hardly enough for one or two poor meals a day. Yet the old woman never complained. Instead, she shared everything. Sometimes she gave Benice the larger portion and pretended she was not hungry. Benice noticed, but said nothing. The guilt was already too much. Determined not to remain helpless, Benice began carrying Eunice everywhere in search of work, despite how tender and fragile the baby still was. Every morning, she tied Eunice securely to her back with an old wrapper and stepped into the dusty roadside streets. She sold biscuits. She sold sweets. She sold roasted groundnuts. She called out to passersby under the harsh sun, praying each sale would bring enough money to buy food for the night. Some days were good. Most days were not. At night, exhausted and emotionally drained, she would lie beside Eunice and gently rock her to sleep. Sometimes she sang softly. Sometimes she simply stared at the old zinc roof above her, watching shadows dance in the darkness. Her thoughts were always the same. Mhhhhh, God… how will I raise this child? One night, after Eunice had finally fallen asleep, Mama Amah came to sit beside her on the thin mat. The old womans face looked unusually serious. We cannot continue this way, my daughter. Benice let out a tired sigh. Mhhhhh… I know. What do you advise me to do, Mama? Mama Amah held her gaze for a long moment before speaking. If you can listen to me, you must find work in the main city. The words hit Benice like a stone. She turned immediately to look at her baby, sleeping peacefully, one tiny hand curled beneath her cheek. Tears filled her eyes. How can I take my baby along?she asked in a broken whisper. Mama Amah gently reached for her hand. I will take care of Eunice. Benice looked at her in confusion. But you have already done too much for me. A sad smile touched Mama Amahs lips. You resemble my late daughter Rita,she said softly, her voice trembling with emotion. Every time I look at you, I see her. She passed on some years ago. The confession broke something inside Benice. Her lips trembled. With tears running down her cheeks, she shook her head. I cannot leave you and my baby. We must go together. Mama Amah sighed and cupped Benices face like a mother comforting her child. Where is the money to rent a house in the city? You have to go first, settle yourself, and then come back for us. She paused, then added gently, You are not abandoning us. You are fighting for Eunice's future. Those words stayed in Bernice's heart long after Mama Amah lay down to sleep. That night, sleep refused to come. She lay awake listening to Eunice's breathing. Her chest felt tight, as if invisible hands were tearing her heart apart. The decision felt impossible. But deep inside, she knew Mama Amah was right. There was one thing stronger than fear—hope.  "There's one thing stronger than all armies of the world, and that is an idea.