L’ABE BRIDGE
I hear their excited voices before I see them. Children lucky enough to have made some gains while the sun is still up. They would retire for the day in few hours but first, there is a business to sort out. So, I sit at my usual vantage spot and watch.
Bibiire, the only girl in the pack sits down first and the others crowd around her. She brings out a worn notebook from her waist bag and proceeds to open the pages. At age 11, Bibi, as she is fondly and respectably called by the others, is the one in charge. She is not the oldest but because she succeeded in resolving their conflicts and managing their welfare when she joined the pack at age 7, they in no time deferred to her.
The others like to talk about how they came to live under the bridge but not Bibi. All they know about her past is that she arrived in the dead of the night with torn clothes, matted hair and tears streaming down her swollen face. The guys had taken her in without any question, their protective instincts immediately aroused. They created a human circle around her that night, as if daring anyone who could, to breach their security formation. In return, she quickly adjusted to her new life and played the motherly role no one had occupied in the lives of the boys up till that point. She knew where to hustle for sensible meals and cheap clothes that kept them comfortable during the day and warm at night.
Bibi opens the dog-eared pages of the book and writes the day’s date, drawing horizontal and vertical lines. The book is supposed to be an attendance diary but it has become more than that as she writes carefully beside each person’s name, the amount of money earned for the day. I am already accustomed to this sight so I can tell who has earned so little and also who has made so much today by their enthusiasm or lack thereof as they respond to Bibi’s questions. They then hand their earnings over to her and she carefully counts each person’s wad of notes before putting it in her waist bag.
The sun is setting now and I have to go. I would be back early tomorrow morning to drop my anonymous breakfast basket for them. I do this every weekend I’m free because there’s no better way for me to reflect on my many blessings, than to touch lives, albeit incognito. There are days I think they recognize me but I love our long-distance relationship, until my plan becomes feasible.
Until then, stay safe Bibiire, mama for the boys!
©Ruth Nzere
