The Mother Who Refused To Give Up

My husband left us on a Tuesday. No fight, no warning. He just packed his bag and said, "I can't do this poverty life again." I stood there holding my two-year-old daughter and my four-month-old baby, thinking he was joking. But he walked out of our single room in Accra and never looked back. That night, the landlord knocked for rent. My baby had no diapers. My phone had no airtime. I cried on the floor until I had no more tears. My mother called and said come back to the village, you cannot do this alone. Everyone told me to give up, to give my children away, to find another man. But I looked at my two babies sleeping on one small mattress, holding each other, and I made a promise in my heart that I will not give up. The next morning I tied my baby on my back, held my daughter's hand, and went to the traffic to sell pure water. People insulted me. My legs were paining me. But I sold twelve sachets. That twelve sachets became rice for my children. That was the beginning of my journey. From pure water seller to a mother who turned pain into strength. But just when life finally started to smile at me, the past came knocking at my door.