There was a man called Alhaji- means he who had gone to the holy land of muslims in Mecca Saudi Arabia. He (Hajy for Short) had three wives and twelve biological children, the oldest was just eleven years old when Hajy died. Three widows and twelve fatherless kids.
Hajy had no house of his own before his demise, he lived in a rented 6 bedrooms apartment, not because he was poor; but because he had other children he fathered bringing his tally to twenty-five children in all. The remaining thirteen kids were cousins, employees and some of his friends children.
He was an averagely wealthy man so he could afford to house, feed, cloth and train all this kids with is resources as a Wood Carver, the only thing he couldn't attain before his passing is to build a house of his own.
His big heart had caused so many friction between him and his wives, but they had no choice but to accept him for who he was. Hajy fell ill at age 49 and passed on.
Among the 25 children, the 13 foster kids were grown: some are already in the early twentis and the rest in their late teens. His biological children were still minors as at the time of his death. After his burial, the family disbanded- some to college and some to get a job.
Four years down the line after Hajy's passing, things got bad for his surviving family, getting their regular meals was hard as hell, all his biological children dropped out of highschool.
The youngest wife abandoned her two kids and went away with another man, leaving the two kids helpless until the first wife took them in with her own five children and they continued to struggle to survive together.
Mid-year of the fifth year after Hajy's death, the first wife now with 7 children recieved a post from one of the elderly foster kids that he will come visiting by the end of that year. Apperently, one of Hajy's friend had breifed him what had become of his younger siblings few years after they left home.
Weeks became months, still no words from him. Then on the 2nd week of the last month of the year, late one dry windy evening; a truck pulled over in front of the first wife crowded two bedroom rented apartment.
A husky voice passing instructions to some guys now off-loading the truck. Rushing out of the house, a huge trim man was at the door way with a soft passionate look behind his thick frame eye glasses, speaking softly:
"Big mummy, it's me- Isa"
Then the woman, the first wife now soaked with tears gave her first foster son a tight motherly embrace, whispering in a sad broken voice:
"My son, how could you all forget me?"
Unknowingly, Isa had rallied with 3 others of his foster siblings had managed to acquire a 5-bedroom house back in the city where he and his silblings lived and work. They had come to relocate their siblings to the city.
The second wife was contacted to join the family and move to the city, which she declined but released her children to go with their siblings to start a new life only to come visiting every now and then.
The last wife heard of this happy uniting story and went to the city where the relocated Hajy's surviving family now resides to see her kids, her own abandoned kids!
The two lads gave her an ultimatum to get a permission from their now foster mother before she could see them, which was granted with a set of complex conditions.
MORAL
A wise old pastor once said:
If as a parent, only your biological sons and daughters calls you dad or mom; it means you have never helped nor secure another kids future and for which you have failed in you duty as a good parent...
Sounds harsh, but truthfully wise; if Hajy had not taken good care of Isa and the other foster kids, his own surviving biological children's lives would have been jeopardized with abject poverty.
A help rendered now is not waste and not for the present moments but for the remote future. You never can tell where your kids will be in need of some dire help in the nearest future!
Thanks for reading in the end and as such i will locate a woman who had fed me for 3months in the past when i had nothing and show my profound appreciation to her, i pray she is still alive.
Note: A huge portion of this story is a life experience, i have seen the family, i still remember some of this guys name.
