Here’s a continuation of the last blog post .
I didn’t plan to keep the update this long.
So back to our tale.
I came up to see the parents ‘from the dead’.
The couple came with the wife’s sister.
Without asking any questions initially I needed no one telling me they were her parents.
The girl was a replica of her mum.
We asked her,babe who are these people to you.
And she said “my mummy and my daddy and my aunty”
At this point I didn’t know whether I was angry, confused or…really I just didn’t know. kinda felt like I was in a life nollywood studio.
Nurse B had already plucked a long cane on our way up.
I asked the mother for her side of the story.
She said the girl was playing out side, and she went o call her to get ready to go to church. She had a recital in church the next day and needed to practise. Little babe wasn’t happy to have her play interrupted and said she wasn’t going to church. Her mum went in to get her bag and when she came out,she didn’t see her daughter.
She searched high and low around the neighborhood, walked down to the road, alerted her husband who was in the house too…they kept searching all afternoon till they got the call from their elder daughter.
Their eldest called asking of her younger sister, and was told about the search going on. She went on to tell her parents about the call she got, that her sister was in our facility.
That’s how they came to us, to meet their daughter sitting comfortably with the nurses.
Then we told them her tale.
Yeah, her name was Gift.
How a pretty little girl spurn such tale still amazes. me.
The father just starred at her with disbelief and shock (I believe) over his face.
The mother looked like she would break her into two.
The Aunty raked and ranted and panted. She was so pissed at the girl.
Okay, so Gift, why did you tell such a story.?
Oh..she didn’t want to go to church for the recital..
..her mum blamed her if anything got spoilt or broken in the house
..her mum flogged her is she made a mistake or did something wrong
“Did your dad also blame or beat you?”
“No, I like my daddy very well..he doesn’t shout at me or beat me ” Gift said
Short story….there was some making up, contacts taken and the family left.
And they lived just a street away, not the Jerusalem madam Gift had said.
Two days ago a driver ran a tyre across the leg of a boy and they came our place. On asking some questions, he said he was a 17yr old orphan and hustler…he gave a tale..it reminded me so much of a recent tale.
And his name was Gift.
Weird coincidence or not…