BORN WITHOUT AN IDENTITY [THE TRUE LIFE STORY OF AN ORPHAN]: EPISODE 1. (Written by HUSBAND MATERIAL)

I told you guyz that ONE DAY, I will host Husband Material on my blog. Toldn't I?.....Lolz. Now, here comes the baddest HUSBAND MATERIAL all dha way from Port-Harcourt. H.M, as I fondly call him is also a writer like me but he's my boss (Oga patapata). He writes very good and exciting stories on his blog - husbandwrites.wordpress.com. He is a Nobel Laureate in view. This story is a true life story....as you all know that I only entertain true life things on my blog.....so, this is a very touching and heart-melting story that will get you glued to your seat. ENJOY!

NOTE: After completing this story, I'll be interviewing Husband Material right here on my blog. So, STAY TUNED and most importantly, ENJOY:

I have seen people cry at burial ceremony when they lose there love ones, I just stare at them blank face and whisper to them "count yourself lucky you had the chance to be with them".

Do you know how it feels to grow up and find yourself in a motherless baby home? A stage where you have to battle with wether the surname the matron gave you was the one you think your real mother would have given to you? Where you have to battle with which surname is suitable for you, before you do that you have to battle with which tribe you think you are from, you see how hard that is?

That was only my growing age then as i grew older at the motherless home, I hated the sign of pity written boldly on every visitor's face and even the too emotional ones cry like a baby that I console them, dont get me wrong, not that I hated the affection being shown by good Nigerian but I felt more a monkey in the zoo where people have to come in groups, look at us and then donate to make sure we are kept in good condition and whenever they took these group pictures with us, I never wanted to appear unless am being dragged by my matron.

Most times when couples come to adopt some of us, i usually run to to the toilet in pretence that i was pressed. YES! I was small but I knew I was wiser than all the kids in our home and I felt special for no reason.

There was this faithful day I almost got adopted by a yoruba couple, i could tell by there accent and mode of dressing, when the wife lifted me up and put up a smiling face, I grabbed one of her fingers and bite it like I wanted to chew it off, she kept hitting my head so hard but instead of me to leave her, I pressed on and when our matron brought cane to flog me, it was then that I removed my teeth off her hand and threw me to the floor, as the next kid beside me was adopted instead of me.

I was told that when you were up to 18yrs and you wish to leave, that you will be granted the permission to live, and all I counted was days, days that turned into months and months into a year, as i grew older I noticed some funny incident at the motherless baby home that made me want to puke.

First: the owner of our home is a scam, all the free donations being donated by people, more than half goes home with her, she would instruct the matron to select the good stuffs and separate in two part and she would drive her car and face the booth towards the provisions and food stuffs, she would heap them till she battles to lock the booth. Although food was the least of my problems but I  felt pity for others too; the matron, our cooks and some other employees who are sleeping with the grown children in the home.

There was this particular incident that I can never forget in a hurry because that was where I met Abigail, a girl that later played another big role in my life. We were all outside playing in groups and since it wasn't visiting days for outsiders, we played and even dirtied our clothes because there would be no inspection for its only on visiting days that our matron normally inspect us.

...to be continued!

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Thanks and God bless