The broken yolk

Let's take a ride to the village where three generations lived in abject poverty

According to the story my dad told me, his grandfather(first generation) died of poverty. His father (second generation) survives through alms collection on the street. He was knocked down by a car in the process. My father (third-generation) inherited alms collection from his father. First, second and third-generation wallowed in abject poverty

I'm the first child. I have a sister named Lilian. We grew up on the street with our parents collecting alms. There was no opportunity to go to school so we remained on the street sleeping and waking every day under the bridge. Our poverty level, if measured , would rise above sea level. In fact, when we compare it to height, mount Everest will bow

One day, I went beside a car and begged the man driving to give me some money to eat. He looked at me contemptuously and chased me like a dog. As a professional begger, I was adamant. I kept disturbing him in the hold-up. He wined up his glass and switched on his music box. The traffic light was counting down and it was 3 minutes remaining for the green light to take over the traffic. To draw his attention, I knocked at his glass multiple times. When he looked at me, I knew he was very angry. He opened the car door with full force and hit me to the ground. I sustained a minor injury from the hit but it was nothing compared to what I faced moving up and down the road to beg for money

As I was about to help myself up from the fall, I saw a wallet on the floor beneath the door. It dropped from his side pocket when he opened and hit me with the door. I quickly stretched forth for the wallet, but before I stood up to balance myself, the hold-up had ended. He moved his car at the speed of light before I could say Jack Robbinson. When I opened the wallet, I saw different papers with $20,000 and some of our currency. My heart beat changed instantly and I lost the perfect delivery of my words as I soliloquized. My hair took a vintage angle of 90⁰ and my skin was covered with goose pimples. I've never seen such in my life

I carefully kept the wallet in my pocket and waited for my dad to come so I could tell him what happened. As I raised up my head, I saw the man's car coming back. I felt two strong powers whispering beside me on the two sides. One was saying give him back and the other was saying don't try it. Many things began to rush through my mind. We are poor, and when I begged him for money for food, he chased me like a dog and hit me to the floor with the car door. NO! I won't return it. I stood looking at him from afar in another traffic. I couldn't hold myself. I walked toward him and knocked on his glass the second time. He recognized me. He wined down and said, "What do you want again you this goat"? - You mistakenly dropped your wallet when you knocked me down- Here is it. I threw it to him and continued begging others for help

One day, he came back from work and was very angry. He couldn't find his wallet. He had no idea where it fell from his pocket. After a week, he forgot about it. I was tired of living with him. I wanted to leave but I had nothing. Fortunately for me, I spot his wallet inside the thick flower when I was watering them. When I checked, there were 25 pieces of $1000 each arranged straight in the wallet. This time, only one voice spoke to me and the word was "It's time to go". I told him I wanted to visit my parents but he refused to let me go because he didn't fulfill the promise he made for my poor dad

When he was off to work, I packed my belongings and left his house. I spent 2 days at a friend's house to plan the journey. I changed the money to our currency and bought all the equipment I needed to set up my shop. It was time to go home. I boarded a car and kept all my loads in the boot. There were four passengers. Three at the back and I occupied the front seat. After some hours, the three passengers alighted, remaining the driver and I. When we got to a lonely road almost 45 minutes to where I would alight, the car stopped working. What could be the issue? The driver went down and opened the bunnet to check what was wrong

My mind wasn't at rest. I have a huge amount of money in my bag and all the loads I carry are worth $5,000. The car wasn't showing any sign of response. The driver then begged me to push it forward maybe it would ignite. I was very desperate to leave that area so pushing the car wasn't a problem. As I stepped out of the car and closed the door, the driver kicked the car and took off

Oh my God! I would rather die than watch him go with all my belongings. I clung to the door of the car as he moved with speed. He maneuvered the car left and right so my hand would slip and fall but my grip was 100% perfect. I struggled to climb and enter through the window of the owner's side and I was able to slot in my head. He hit my head several times with a blow but kept struggling to get my hands on the steering. I was determined. It's either we both die or I get my belongings. When I eventually held the steering wheel, I dragged it with him. It wasn't easy because I was lying straight across the window with my two hands on the steering wheel and my two legs on the window. After some minutes of drag and draw, the car ended up hitting a big tree and stopped. My right hand fractured but the driver fainted. Luckily for me, A tipper passing by helped me to my village. The driver was conscious before we left. I had to leave him to face his problems

Getting under the bridge, I met my father and my sister in heavy rain. I was embittered. When they saw me, they hardly recognized me. My dad had been ill for months. He was happy to see me. I told him the story and the only thing he said was "thank God for breaking the poverty course". He died in my hands right under the bridge. It's sad he couldn't wait to be treated and enjoy a better life before kicking the bucket. I set up my business, got an apartment, and sent my sister to school. We both had a better life

Mum left dad and followed another man when things were too rough. Maybe I will see her tomorrow, only God knows. The yolk of poverty was broken in the fourth generation