Chapter 13: One Cloth, No Shoes
School should have been a place of escape—a brief moment each day when Mary could be around other children, sit in a classroom, and feel like a child again. But for her, even school was filled with shame.
Every morning, she dressed in the same old worn-out gown. It was faded, patched in several places, and far too small for her growing frame. She had no school bag—just her tattered notebooks, which she wrapped in a nylon bag when it rained. Her shoes were long gone. For as long as she could remember, she had walked barefoot through the dusty roads of Taraba, her feet hardened and stained with the soil of her silent suffering.
The other children noticed.
They stared. They whispered. Some even laughed.
"Look at her feet," a boy sneered once. "Doesn't she feel shame?"
Mary heard them, but never responded. She kept her eyes low, her shoulders square, and walked into class like she couldn't hear a thing. But inside, the sting of those words echoed louder than any slap.
During break time, while the others ate snacks or played games, Mary sat alone. If she brought food, it was cold leftovers wrapped in paper. If she had nothing, she simply drank water and kept quiet. Hunger had become normal—something she carried with her like a shadow.
Despite everything, she never missed school. Even when her aunt claimed she wasn't useful for anything except housework. Even when chores delayed her, and she arrived late, sweating and exhausted. Mary went. Because something inside her believed it mattered. That learning was a seed—and even if she had no shoes or uniform, the seed could still grow.
Some teachers noticed her struggles. A few offered her old textbooks. One occasionally gave her chalk to take home for practice. But none ever asked too many questions. Perhaps they thought she would speak up if things were truly bad.
She never did.
Mary didn't want pity. She wanted dignity. And each day she walked into that classroom, barefoot and worn but never broken, she was fighting for it silently.
Because she knew: Knowledge is freedom. And I am going to be free.