I am always careful with what I do or say around kids because you can never be too sure of what’s going on in their heads. Their innocent faces can be deceiving, and some adults fall for the tricks kids pull because we assume they don’t know anything, when in fact, they know a lot just by observing us.
I used to be surprised when kids did unexpected things, but now I understand that they have the ability to observe and comprehend like adults. They may be quiet while figuring things out, but once they understand, you can’t predict their reactions.
Ebuka is my very good friend, and we grew up together. We lived very close to each other, and our relationship was tight. He is Igbo, while I am Yoruba, but our cultural backgrounds never affected our friendship.
He spent a lot of time at my place back then because he loved Yoruba food, which he didn’t get much at home. I never hesitated to share anything with him and didn’t expect anything in return—it was just pure vibes.
At some point, I had to leave home to hustle, and life took me far away, but it didn’t change anything between me and Ebuka. We still chatted regularly. Later, he moved to Agege.
As life would have it, I got a client in Agege at a printing press. The client reached out for a job that would last about two months, and I quickly informed Ebuka about staying at his place during that time because commuting home daily would be too expensive.
He agreed, and I was happy because sleeping at the factory wasn’t easy, especially in Agege, where the mosquitoes would break your defense and attack you badly.
The day I dropped my bag at his place, I met a little girl named Hannah, whose parents rented a house and ran a food canteen in the same compound. She was about four years old, very smart, and always asking questions. I often bought her sweets and biscuits because of her cleverness, not knowing it would pay off someday.
While staying at Ebuka’s place, I spent a lot of money on food because I always cooked for two. I wasn’t earning much, but I couldn’t deny my friend food, especially since he always said he was broke—either his wages weren’t paid in full, or he had settled debts with his money. He barely contributed to the cooking.
I didn’t doubt him and always covered for him, believing he would do the same for me. A month passed, and I noticed Hannah often told Ebuka, “Boda ngbadun,” meaning he was enjoying himself. I assumed it was something she heard adults say, so I didn’t pay much attention.
One evening, after returning from work, I sat outside to get some fresh air because Ebuka’s girlfriend was around. While sitting there, Hannah came to me, and we started chatting. I love kids’ company, and you’d be surprised how well we relate. I can’t remember what led to the conversation, but she told me that Ebuka used to “enjoy” very well. She even said he never bought anything for her like I did.
Curious about what she meant by “enjoy,” I listened as she described how he bought plenty of food from her parents’ canteen—big fish and meat. She gave me all the details, and I didn’t want to believe it because it all sounded like an exaggeration, but what would she gain from lying?
I kept quiet about it and started monitoring Ebuka. I would come home during my breaks and finally caught him. He always ate lunch at the canteen and still pretended to be hungry. I wanted to stay silent since the job was almost over, but I decided to confront him.
He apologized, and I let it slide, but the whole thing affected our relationship. I never thought he could do such a thing but thanks to Hannah for exposing him.
