They couldn't have been wrong, one good turn deserves another.

My parents were not rich when they were alive, so growing up was very hard for me and my siblings.

We hawked so many things just so our school fees could be paid on time.

My elder brother had to go learn a trade after primary school so that we the younger ones could go to school.

My father was one of those soldiers who was accused of planning a coup, he was first sent to prison, he stayed there for two years, he was released when a new government took over.

While there all his entitlements were denied him. It was hell for us, my mother, who was a trader found it difficult to cope, she cried every day and fell sick many times along the line.

My elder brother was away in the City learning a trade, so it was just I and my younger ones at home with mum.

We lived in the barracks, but when my father got imprisoned we were evicted.

Shortly after my father was released, he had a heart attack and died.

My mother took us to the village, in the village we found it very difficult to cope, we began to weed people's farms for stipends.

Within a short period, we were known as the only people who could weed farms perfectly.

It is what I'm grateful to my parents for to this day, they thought us how to do things diligently, I remember how my mum would throw plates at me if I didn't wash them properly.

One day, the owner of a farm we were paid to weed visited the farm while we were there, only a small portion was left, she was so impressed, she asked us to go and come back the next day to complete it.

My mother insisted we finished everything so that we could get the balance of our money and get dinner for that day.

I noticed that the woman stood somewhere and watched us until we finished.

Then she walked up to us and asked my mum who she was, my mum then narrated our ordeal to her, she became very sober and I could tell that she was just holding back her tears.

She offered to accommodate us in the city, she told us she had two houses in the city and that we could stay in a flat in one of them, she also promised to get my mother a little job, while I and my siblings would go back to school.

For us, it was a miracle, I could not hide my joy, the woman even told us to call on her if we ever needed help.

My mum began to work in a hotel as a cleaner, she couldn't get a better job because she had only her primary six results.

I went on to secondary school after my common entrance result was out, I passed with distinction and was enrolled on a scholarship for which I wrote an exam, courtesy of my benefactor.

We were at home one day when some policemen, in the company of well corporately dressed individuals came to the compound with a "quit notice".

I later got to know that they were bankers and the house had been forfeited for a debt my benefactor owed.

We were homeless again.

My brother had begun doing well and would send us little money to feed with.

From my mother's little savings, which she got from her janitorial services in people's homes, she was able to rent a wooden house called Bacha, we lived there until I finished secondary school, the hotel job my mum was doing was tasking and frustrating so she quit.

I aced my West African Examination and continued on the scholarship to the University.

By this time, my benefactor was nowhere to be found.

Some said she traveled abroad, while some said she was in prison, but all efforts to reach her proved abortive at the time.

One day, while in school, I saw a little girl by the corner of a classroom block crying, beside her was a bucket full of sachet water, I was to her so I went by and asked what the problem was, she told me her mother was dying and she has nowhere to go or anyone to tell.

I asked her where her house was and she told me, I became very interested because I understood what it felt like to be in a helpless situation as such.

We had moved out of the Bacha, it happened when my mother was contracted to clean the house of an expatriate who came to supervise a construction job.

It was the first time I saw dollars, I remember my mum telling me that the white man gave get white papers and that she doesn't know if anyone would accept the money.

I took them to the bank and changed them into naira.

We got a better place, it wasn't perfect, as we had to share the toilet with about twenty people, but it was better than having to poo in buckets or bags and throwing them over a fence.

The little girl took me to her mother, lo and behold it was my benefactor.

She looked old and tired.

When she saw me, she couldn't recognize me.

I wondered what could bring such a vibrant, well-to-do woman to such a state.

She could not hold back tears when she saw me, I cried along with her but promised her that all will be well.

It happened that she was duped and the firm she worked with at the time accused her of stealing.

She was stripped of all she had, along the line she had to withdraw her only child from school so she could hawk sachet water on campus.

I was already done with my final exams and was waiting for service.

When my mum heard about her, she was so excited.

We began to take care of her.

She became alive again, her daughter went back to school courtesy of me and my mother.

After my youth service, I got a job and I took her daughter to live with me, I placed her on a monthly salary and got a decent place for her.

My mother became sick and slowly died of cancer despite all efforts to keep her alive.

I was, however, glad that she saw a bit of my success story and GOD used her to help someone rise from the dust.

Life is in turns.

People you help on your way up can help you on your way down.

Do good today.

One good turn deserves another.

What we know are today and yesterday, but you see tomorrow?

It's not certain

Have a beautiful new week.

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