The night fire swallowed my father's shop, I was in UNN pretending all was well

Two years ago, around 11pm, my phone rang. It was my mother. She was crying and I couldn't understand a word. I thought maybe my younger brother was sick. Then she said it. 'Papa shop don burn.'

My father sells electronics for Ogui Road market. Radios, small TVs, chargers, that kind of thing. Everything he had built for over 20 years, gone in one night. We never knew how the fire started. Some people said it was electrical fault. Some said it was somebody. Nobody could prove anything.

I was in my first year at UNN. My school fees was due that same month. My father, that proud man, didn't even call me to tell me. He called my mother to call me. He couldn't face his son and say 'I have nothing left.'

For the next three months I hawked pure water around Odim street. I would leave hostel at 5am, sell till 7am, then rush to class. Nobody in my class knew. I would carry my empty basin and hide it in the bush near the faculty.

My roommate Chidi one day followed me by mistake and saw me under the hot sun selling water. He didn't say anything. He just joined me. We sold till 8am that day.

That season taught me something. Pride is a liar. Family is the only real thing. And God, even when you think He has forgotten you, He is watching.

My father never fully recovered that business. But he is alive. And every time I see him, I remember that fire, and I know we survived worse than whatever this economy throws at us.