Joy dropped the firewood and almost fell with it. She held her neck and breathed hard, tears almost coming to her eyes from the pain.
She looked at the old woman, then around the compound again, and she could not keep quiet.
“Mama, this place is dirty,” Joy said with concern. “You are too weak to be doing everything alone.”
The old woman simply watched her quietly, breathing slowly, as if she were waiting to see what Joy would do next.
Joy did not wait for permission. “Mama, sit down. Let me help you.”
She picked up a broom resting against the wall and started sweeping the leaves, the dust, and the dirt that had gathered in the corners.
As she swept, she kept shaking her head. “Mama, why are you living like this? This place needs care.”
The old woman replied softly, “People stopped coming here long ago.”
Joy felt pain in her chest, but she kept sweeping. After cleaning, she went behind the house and found a small bundle of dry sticks and a pot that looked unused. She washed the pot well, washed her hands, and asked the old woman, “Mama, do you have anything to cook?”
The old woman pointed to a small bag and a little basket. Joy opened them and found some garri, a few dry peppers, and some vegetables that were still good.
Joy nodded. “Okay, Mama. I will cook something simple for you.”
She lit a small fire and cooked a light meal. The smell of food entered the air for the first time in that compound, and it made the place feel like a home again.
The old woman watched Joy from where she sat, silent, her eyes following every movement, as if she were looking at something she had been searching for all her life.
When the food was ready, Joy served the old woman first, even though her own stomach was hungry.
“Mama, eat,” Joy said gently.
The old woman held the plate with shaking hands and ate slowly. After some time, she looked up and said, “Thank you, my daughter.”
Joy smiled. “You are welcome, Mama.”
Then Joy stood up quickly because reality returned like a slap. She looked toward the direction of the school and sighed.
“Mama, I have to go now. I’m already very late. They will punish me.”
The old woman nodded and stood up slowly. “Come.”
She entered the old house. Joy followed her, thinking the old woman wanted to give her advice or maybe ask her to come another day. But the old woman walked to one corner and brought out a white native pot. It was not big, but it looked special. It was clean and bright, as if it did not belong to that dirty place.
Joy stared at it in confusion.
The old woman held it out to her. “This is my reward for you.”
Joy’s eyes widened. “Mama, no, I can’t take it. I only helped you.”
“It’s okay.” The old woman pushed it closer. “Take it.”
Joy slowly collected it with both hands, still confused. “What is it for?”
The old woman stepped closer and lowered her voice as if she were giving a secret that could change a life.
“If you need anything in this life, just touch this pot three times, and whatever you need—anything at all—will be inside.”
Joy froze. She looked at the pot again, then at the old woman’s face. Her eyes were calm, serious, and strong. She did not look like someone joking.
Joy’s heart started beating fast. “Mama, how is that possible?”
The old woman sighed. “My daughter, don’t ever tell anybody about this. Keep it to yourself. If you talk, people will destroy you, and they will destroy the gift. And listen to me—make sure you keep helping people. Do good, my child. Goodness is not for noise. It is for destiny.”
Joy nodded slowly, still shocked. “Yes, Mama.”
She carried the pot carefully as if it could break her whole life if it fell. She stepped toward the door, her mind spinning, her hands even shaking. She wanted to turn back and ask questions, but the old woman’s voice stopped her like a hook.
“My daughter,” the old woman said, “you can’t walk back home.”
Joy paused and turned. “Why, Mama?”
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