Everyone has a sad story to tell, everyone has experienced the sad part of life in one way or the other, but I'll tell you the story of Hope.

Hope was the first child of her family, after her, came three others. Happiness, Joy and Light, Light was the only boy. I wouldn't tell you the class to place Hope’s family, but I’ll tell you they can at least afford to send their children to a public school.

Hope was fourteen years of age when some people came to demolish their house which her father had inherited from his own father. It wasn't much of a house, it was a thatched two-bedroom house with no kitchen or toilet, and even the bathroom was more of clothes than mud. Still, it was their home and her father had been dragged away while he was protesting and trying to prevent them from demolishing the house, never to be seen again dead or alive.

Moving on would have somehow been easy if her mother had not taken ill. One could not tell if it was due to the heartbreak of not finding her husband or of their house being demolished, but one could certainly tell that one faithful day, Hope called to her mother but was greeted with a silence which was unlike her, even in her sickness, she still made sure to respond to her children. Little but not so little, Hope had not needed anyone to tell her what had happened.

The saying never trust anyone suddenly became true. The woman who had been their angel and accommodated Hope, her siblings and her mother suddenly became the devil. It was one hot afternoon she threw Hope and her siblings on the street and Hope at fourteen became the mother to her eleven, eight and five years of age siblings.

The battle became the battle of where to sleep and what to eat, it didn’t matter that they were dressed in rags. It wasn’t a big deal that she was called names and beaten as long as she got something to feed her siblings with. She didn’t care that if they somehow managed to find a place to stay, they had to share it with mosquitoes and animals or be up and running before the world does, to prevent being seen. How many days had her stomach rumbled and grumbled but she had to ignore it so her siblings could eat?

One would think life had punished her enough, but obviously, life itself thought otherwise because what else could make a motherless and fatherless child fall ill? Had Hope not left her siblings under a tree and gone about searching for the day’s food only to come and meet her five years old brother with his eyes sunk in and gasping for breath. She had rushed him to the hospital which was nearby but not even one person glanced at her. She was such a sight to behold, she was hysteric and her tears were enough to move any human. When at last someone decided to hear ‘the madwoman out,’ her brother was long gone. If she had hoped for a sorry, she had gotten none and who was she to hold the hospital responsible?

Upon her return to the tree, she had tried as much as possible to explain to her other siblings that they would not be seeing their brother again, but at that point, it didn’t feel like they heard anything. Who could blame them? An eleven and eight-year-old just want to fill their stomach with food and play with toys, none of which they could afford. Life went on and Hope continued her journey with the two siblings left.

You could have asked why Hope didn’t try working. She did try, but no one would house her and her two siblings, so even if she worked, they had to sleep outside with the animals and mosquitoes. Somehow, they survived and Hope stepped into her fifteen-year on earth with two kids. Maybe, just maybe the year would be a different one.

Gone as usual in search of food, Hope returned one day to find her sibling Happiness gone. Upon inquiry, Joy made it known that a stranger had come to where they were sitting, made his intention to help them known and asked Happiness to follow him to his car to get his card which she would give to her sister who would then contact him when she gets back. Hope screamed and rushed in the direction that was pointed to her, Joy said the man and Happiness had gone for almost two hours before her return, but she neither found Happiness nor a man. Again, life had yet dealt with her. She sat on the floor beside her sister who could not understand why she was crying. A child only sees life in black and white, who would explain to a child that there are many colours to life?

Strong and Brave as she was, Hope, moved on. It wasn’t easy, but even if she had not intended to move on, she had her little sister to consider, until she didn’t. She had gotten a job as a cleaner in a home and her happiness had known no bounds when they agreed she could bring her sister to live with her in the house. Things were going on well and it finally felt like it was all over, it was good until it wasn’t. What does an eight-year-old know? She had been cleaning the living room one faithful day with her sister by her side, she had no idea she had left her side until she heard the sound of something breaking. She looked up and found that her sister had broken her madam’s flower vase and even the child had been hurt by the pieces.

She had not even been able to say a word when her madam skidded down the stairs and landed a slap on the eight year old, the little child let out a cry and Hope could literally feel her own heartbreak. She made a move to protect her sister, not caring about the outcome, but her madam was already hitting and kicking the child. It wasn’t quite long before the child hit the floor and one look at the child could tell that she was gone. And while Hope screamed, kicked and cried, her madam simply hissed and asked her to clear the mess while she walked up the stairs, because clearly what could someone like Hope do to her?

And somehow, Hope would still find the strength to keep on moving