My Encounter With a 10-Year-Old Breadwinner [DIARY]

At his age, Sodiq Olumide under normal circumstances should be totally engrossed with school work, running errands for daddy and mummy, eating at the appropriate time and learning his first and lasting lessons of life.

This is arguably the normal atmosphere under which a 10-year-old child should be found growing.

However, this is a far cry from the deviant peculiarities that have become a constant part of Olumide’s life.

From Monday through Friday, Olumide roams the streets of Abeokuta with his peers playing, chatting away and seemingly having fun but on Saturdays and Sundays, Olumide takes on the responsibilities of a man.

In a chat with Simply Samad, Olumide revealed how he wanders through the familiar terrains of Abeokuta with older boys and girls of like minds in search of parties and ceremonies where they can work and earn money.

One might begin to wonder what kind of work Olumide and his gang would be doing at a party where they have not been invited. Olumide had no need to begin to explain the details of his job as I witnessed this first hand.

On Saturdays, Olumide in the familiar company of his older peers, hits the roads of Abeokuta in search of the venue of a party or ceremony. Whether the event is a wedding, naming ceremony, coronation, birthday or anniversary is of little relevance to Olumide and his crew. What they are concerned with is how much they can make from the ceremony.

If you still do not know what Olumide does at these ceremonies then picture this; you are at a wedding reception preoccupied with the task of conquering the plate of rice and fried meats on your table. All of a sudden, you feel the breeze behind you pick up an unnatural but refreshing tempo. Instinct prompts you to turn around to see who or what is responsible for the change in the course of the air around you.

As your head completes the 180 degree turn, your eyes rest on a boy still in his early teens; standing behind you; fanning you with a large piece of paper hurriedly torn from a carton.

Like a programmed robot, the boy just stands there fanning away in your direction as if his life depends on it.

Upon inquiry laced with a little financial motivation, the boy reveals his identity as Sodiq Olumide and in a 15-minute chat, he opens a window into how he lost his mother, his inability to lay his hands on a decent education as well as other issues hovering around his queer lifestyle.

As expected, Olumide cannot express himself in English language and effortlessly resorts to responding to questions hurled at him in his mother tongue, Yoruba language.

On the day in question, Olumide left home immediately after gulping down a bowl of beans and bread; a typical breakfast. “I always eat before I leave the house,” he said.

Being he only child of his parents doesn’t help matters as this prompts Olumide to look in the direction of street kids for companionship.

Why should a boy as young as Olamide be roaming the streets rather than being in school where constructive learning can take place? When asked if he has any plans to be educated in the near future, he tells his heart wrenching story. Though unable to pinpoint the exact day he lost his mum, he spoke about what his father does for a living.

“I’m just about to start school. My mum is dead but my father has gone to farm to work. He’s a farmer. My father knows I come here to work. When he gets home at night, we eat dinner together and go to bed.”

He however paints a clear picture of what his modus operandi at parties, events and ceremonies entails.

“I’m the only child but I have friends. I come here (parties) to fan people and collect money in return. I work on Saturdays and Sundays alone. On bad days, I make N200 and on good days, I could make as much as N500.”

When Olumide disclosed that he has been able to save his weekend earnings, his prudence came across as laudable but when he revealed his plans for the money, one begins to wonder at the preposterous factors that could have given birth to Olumide’s desires.

“I’m saving the money I make doing this. I just started not too long ago. I don’t know how long I can keep this up but I’ll continue to do it. I want to use the money to buy a car.”

Despite his lofty plans for the meager income he generates on weekends, Olumide’s appetite for education remains intact but the means to such ends prove evasive.

“I want to go to a good school. I really want to go to school because I know that I want to learn. I see other boys like me wearing uniforms; going to school and I feel unhappy.”

In addition to a sound education, Olumide also dreams of becoming a successful musician.

“I want to become a musician because I like to sing. I sing Fuji with some of my friends and some other children around our house. I want to be successful in life too. I’m a Christian but I don’t go to church on weekends because of my work. This is what my friends and I do.”