Mrs. Johnson’s voice trembled.
“Samuel… where are your parents?”
The boy looked down silently.
Then finally whispered:
“Our father left long ago.”
“And mummy died three months ago.”
Mrs. Johnson’s knees almost weakened.
“What?!”
Samuel nodded slowly.
“She was sick.” “We had no money for hospital.”
Tears rolled down his face now.
“But before she died… she held my hand and begged me not to let my younger ones suffer.”
Mrs. Johnson could no longer hold back tears.
Everything suddenly made sense.
Why Samuel slept in class. Why homework was incomplete. Why he kept failing.
Every morning before school…
The little boy worked at a local market carrying loads for traders just to feed his
siblings.
Every night…
He stayed awake caring for them.
And still…
He never stopped coming to school.
Mrs. Johnson looked around the room again.
No mattress. No electricity. No food.
Just children surviving through the sacrifice of another child.
Then came the moment that destroyed her completely.
The smallest child pointed innocently at Samuel and smiled.
“Teacher… our brother doesn’t eat sometimes so we can eat first.”
Mrs. Johnson burst into uncontrollable tears.
Samuel quickly became uncomfortable.
“Please don’t cry, ma,” he whispered softly. “I’m trying my best.”
Trying his best.
Those words broke something inside her.
