As the bus approached the next stop, Motun began to dread the 9 minutes walk home on tired and aching muscles.
It was past 10pm, it was impossible to get a bike after 9pm. This was a long-standing law imposed by the government for safety reasons.
The day at her ever buzzing office was as hectic as most days. But there was a slight difference with the unusual case from the day, a first of its kind.
She runs an NGO, an advocacy for child safety. And now the Tax Revenue were out for her on the basis of embezzlement.
How dare they think so little of her she mumbled under her breath. She adores children and would never dream of scamming them in any way.
She had spent most of her morning at court. While the remaining part involved settling the restlessness amongst the board of directors.
As the bus came to a stop, she recalled her nephew Ayo who had come around last Christmas saying there was a pathway between the blocks by the bustop, leading through the alley and directly to their front yard, it’ll take just 5 minutes.
4 minutes less to boycott the junction and the walkway on those aching legs would be bliss.
Barely 20 steps into the poorly lit pathway, she saw the figure coming towards her and before she could process it all, she felt the cold touch of an object she was clearly familiar with.
Your phone, jewellery and wallet. You know what, came the soft yet angry voice; give me your bag.. or I’ll shoot.
A young boy whom Motun presumes would be a teenager, apparently desperate for some resources had resorted to robbery at gunpoint.
She felt a push to help him, naturally.
She’d lost her only child Victor at the age of two, poor child was a victim of a stray bullet. And unable to have anymore children, Motun chose to bury herself completely in helping children who needed to be helped.
Without hesitation, she spoke as the words came to her. Son, I’m willing to help you get more values and valuables than my purse could offer you.
I can help you. This is what I do, for the past fourteen years.
Motun felt motherly towards this teenager whom she presumed would be about the same age with Victor. Victor would have been sixteen.
Give me the purse or I’ll shoot…
What happened to you? Son! Let me help you. If you want shelter, food, I mean good food, warm clothes, and educa…
The teenage boy didn’t let her finish the sentence, screaming at her to shut up.
He was already shivering at this point, mostly from rage and also from fear that he might give in to the woman’s pep talk if he didn’t act fast and smart.
The boy grabbed Motun’s purse, almost at the same instance she grabbed his hand where he held the gun.
After what seemed like forever, he let go of the purse and fought her off and disappeared into the dark alley.
Motun was not hurt. But she was pretty shaken.
For a few minutes, she forgot all about herself, her needs, worries, the law suit. She was willing to risk her life to save another life. And she would do it again and again.
Despite everything going on and under way, Motun loves what she does.
To be able to put a name to her response to the situation, one would have to dance around bravery and stupidity. Or leave it at a courageous kind heart that had to wear a hero cape when she should have been frightened.
Her courageous disposition is bound to have a long term effect on the teenage boy. Surely, one can hardly forget such an encounter.
This is a fictional story, and all characters are 100% fictional.