Hopelessness

Tunde's world was darkness. Born blind, he had never seen the vibrant colors of the Nigerian market or the bright smiles of his family and friends. His days blended together in a never-ending cycle of hopelessness.

In the small village of Akure, Tunde relied on others for everything. His parents, though loving, were worn down by the struggles of raising a blind child. His siblings, while kind, had their own lives to live. The community, steeped in superstition, often saw Tunde's blindness as a curse.

"Tunde, come eat," his mother called, her voice a gentle whisper in the darkness.

He shuffled to the table, his cane tapping against the floor. His mother guided his hands to the bowl of jollof rice and the spoon. He ate in silence, the flavors a dull comfort in the emptiness.

As he finished, his father spoke, "Tunde, you must learn to beg. It's the only way."

Tunde's heart sank. Begging was a fate worse than death. He longed to learn, to read and write, to be more than just a burden. But in a world that saw him as helpless, what chance did he have?