The Ilorin Shock Episode 10

Episode Ten: Hunger Lessons

There were other pains too.

Not the kind that left marks on the body but the kind that stayed in the stomach, in the heart, and in the mind.

Every day followed the same pattern.

We ate.

We went to school.

And we were given ₦20 for upkeep.

Just ₦20.

Even as a child, I knew what money meant. I knew how much ₦20 could do in Oyo State and how little it could do here. Back home, I had seen better. I had known moments when food didn’t require calculations.

Here, ₦20 was not help.

It was survival on a tight rope.

There was no afternoon food.

None.

Morning food, yes.

Night food, sometimes.

But afternoon? Hunger became our companion.

By midday, the stomach would begin to complain quietly. In class, while teachers talked, my mind would drift not because I was lazy, but because hunger has its own voice. It distracts. It weakens. It reminds you of what you don’t have.

Sometimes, I would watch other children chew things during break. My eyes would follow their hands without permission. Then I would look away quickly, pretending not to care.

But my brother cared for both of us.

Out of his own ₦20, he would save ₦10.

Not every day.

Only when he could.

When he came back home, he would quietly bring it out. No announcement. No pride. Just action.

That ₦10 was powerful.

With it, we bought garri.

In the afternoon, when hunger became too loud, we drank garri not because it was sweet, but because it kept us standing. Cold water, soaked garri, sometimes without sugar.

But it worked.

Each time I drank it, I thought of home.

In Oyo State, afternoon hunger wasn’t a battle. Food didn’t require strategy. Childhood didn’t feel like endurance training.

Here, everything did.

Still, we endured.

We woke up.

We went to school.

We returned.

We slept.

We repeated.

No complaints loud enough to change anything. No tears strong enough to stop the days from coming. We lived there not because it was easy, but because we had no choice.

And with each hungry afternoon, my desire to go home grew stronger.

Not anger.

Not rebellion.

Just longing.

But endurance became our shield.

We survived with garri.

We survived with silence.

We survived with patience.

And though life there kept taking things from us comfort, ease, childhood it was also shaping something inside us we didn’t yet understand.

Strength.

Quiet, stubborn strength.

And the story…

Was far from over.

To be continued… Click here for Episode 11