The African Child, part 4

Continued from The African Child part 3: I have since left our village, in search of greener pastures. I now live in the city with my wife and 2 children. I was  opportune to work for a white man as his house boy and he took an Interest in me and sent me to school. At that time I was the oldest boy in the whole school, but I could only be put in primary 2. The question of my age even still bothers me till date, because I only know I was born a few full moons before the eclipse of the sun that happened while I was a child. The day broad daylight suddenly became darkness. Anyway, I have since then been to the secondary school and later did secretariat studies. I have worked as a clerk in a multinational company now for 8 years and I am pursuing my degree via evening school. My wife teaches home economics at a public primary school close to our house and our two children attend the school. She holds a national certificate in education and has also begun her university education. She however does hers only during the yearly long vacation, popularly called sandwich. We are fine on the average but once in a while have financial needs. My wife and I are saving up to buy our first car at the end of this year. Last month my ailing mother sent word to me about some things we need to discuss. The journey to the village was long, stressful and almost unending. The rickety buses that plied the road seemed to be the same ones that took me out of the village to the city for the first time more than 20 years ago. I am still not very good with numbers and do not remember the exact number of years it was. The road is also still very bad, although some very bad portions seemed to have been sand and stoned filled so many times in the past. And interestingly there is now a school about an hour's trek from the village. Going in a car is not any better any way because the roads are almost un motor able. Perhaps bicycles are better. I noticed a clinic some 3 villages before ours, although it didn't look well maintained it was over filled with dirty looking villagers who have travelled so many miles on foot just to see a doctor. Some of the passengers in the stuffy, dusty and over filled rickety bus even said that a traveling doctor comes in once in two weeks and that the health facility was run by two community health extension workers ( chews).  And what's more, sometimes the medications needed could not be gotten until a bus driver comes to drop passengers in the village and the prescription is given to him to buy and send through the next bus driver coming to the village. To be continued .........