By seven o’clock that morning, the town of Abeni was already awake... The smell of akara floated through the narrow streets while Buses groaned as they struggled to start... Children in blue uniforms hurried toward school, some dragging their feet while their parents shouted after them..
Just at the corner of Market Road, Mr. Bello arranged his oranges into neat pyramids... He had been selling fruits from the same wooden table for seventeen years, and every morning followed almost the same pattern... His daughter, Sade, stood beside him, counting the money from the previous day.
“Papa, you shortchanged Mrs. Kemi yesterday,” she said.
Mr. Bello frowned. “How?”
“You gave her too much change.”.. “Then she should return it.”
Sade laughed. “You know she will not.”.. “People should be honest.”
“You are saying that because it is your money.”...
Mr. Bello pretended to be offended but he smiled underneath...
Just across the road, was a barber sweeping hair from his shop while a radio played football commentary.. Two men argued about politics while sharing one bottle of soft drink. A woman complained that the price of rice had increased again.
Nothing unusual was happening, then at nine o’clock, Sade left the stall to deliver oranges to a restaurant near the river. She promised her father she would return before noon.
“Don’t forget to buy my medicine,” Mr. Bello called after her.
“You have reminded me four times.”... “And you have forgotten five times.”
She waved without turning around...
The river was usually calm at that time of year, It moved slowly behind the town, carrying small boats and reflecting the roofs of houses built along the river banks.. Children often played near the water while fishermen returned with baskets of fish before midday.
Sade stopped at the bridge to answer a call from her friend, Miriam.
“Are you coming to the wedding on Saturday?” Miriam asked.
“I don’t know. I have work.”
“You always have work.”
“And you always have weddings.”
“Because people are getting married. What do you want me to do?”... Sade laughed. She was still smiling when she noticed something strange... The river had begun to rise... At first, she thought it was normal because the water had reached the lower steps beneath the bridge and that happened during heavy rain, but then she saw branches, pieces of wood, and plastic containers moving quickly across the surface.
A fisherman standing near the bank looked toward the hills.
“Something is wrong,” he muttered.
Sade followed his eyes. Dark clouds gathered in the distance, looking so thick and heavy... Rain had started somewhere beyond the town even though the sky above Abeni was still bright..
She called her father.
“Papa, are you near the river?”
“Yes. Why?”
“The water is rising.”
“It has rained upstream before. It will settle.”
“No, Papa. It is moving very fast.”
Before he could answer, the call ended.
A few minutes later, the river spilled over its bank.
People began running.
At first, nobody understood what was happening. Shop owners lifted cartons from the ground. Traders dragged tables away from the water. Motorcycles tried to escape through the narrow road, but the water was already covering the tyres.
Then someone shouted, “Flood!”
The word moved through the town faster than the water.
Sade ran back toward the market. By the time she reached Market Road, water had entered the first row of shops. Mr. Bello was struggling to lift his wooden table while oranges rolled into the muddy current.
“Papa!”
“Sade! Go to higher ground!”
She grabbed his arm. “Come with me.”
“My money!”
“Leave it!”
“My goods!”
“Papa, leave everything!”
For a moment, he stared at the oranges floating away. Seventeen years of work was disappearing in front of him, one orange at a time.
Then he released the table and followed his daughter.
The town changed within minutes.
The road where children had walked to school became a stream. The barber’s chairs floated out of his shop. The radio that had been playing football commentary went silent when the water reached the electrical socket and People climbed onto rooftops, shouted for relatives, and called names into the rain.... Sade and her father reached the roof of a two-storey building with several other people. From there, they watched the water cover the market.
Mr. Bello kept looking toward his stall.
“My medicine,” he said quietly.
Sade held his hand. “We will get another one.”
“My table is gone.”
“I know.”
“My whole life was there.”
She had no answer.
By evening, rescue workers arrived in boats. They moved from house to house, carrying children, elderly people, and anyone trapped inside. Sade helped a woman bring her baby into the boat. Mr. Bello gave his place to a frightened boy who had been separated from his parents.
The rain continued through the night.
When morning came, Abeni was almost unrecognizable. Mud covered the streets. Furniture hung from trees. The market was filled with broken wood, damaged goods, and the remains of ordinary lives.
Sade stood beside her father where his stall had once been... He did not speak for a long time, then he bent down and picked up one orange from the mud. It was bruised and dirty, but still whole.. Sade looked at it and began to laugh softly.
“What is funny?” her father asked.
“Nothing. I just remembered you said people should be honest.”
Mr. Bello stared at her, then laughed too.
It was a small laugh, but it was the first sound of relief anyone had heard from him since the flood.
In the weeks that followed, the people of Abeni rebuilt what they could. Some lost houses. Some lost businesses. Some never found their belongings. The town received help from neighbouring communities, churches, schools, and strangers who had never visited before.
Mr. Bello started again with a smaller table.
This time, he sold fewer oranges and added bananas and bottled water. Sade helped him arrange everything each morning.
One day, she asked him if he missed the old stall.
“Every day,” he replied.
“Do you think things will ever return to normal?”
Mr. Bello looked at the river. It had become calm again, moving slowly as if nothing had happened.
“No,” he said. “Not exactly.”
Sade nodded.
The town had learned that normal could disappear without warning. A simple morning could become a memory. A familiar river could become a threat. A man could lose the work of seventeen years before he finished his breakfast.
But they had also learned something else.
Life could change suddenly, but people could change with it.
And sometimes, rebuilding did not begin with a house, a business, or a road.
Sometimes, it began with one bruised orange, one small laugh, and the decision to try again.
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