15/12/2025
Season One
Episode ONE
- The Night Before the Journey
That night felt longer than every night Kobi had ever lived.
The kerosene lamp flickered weakly, throwing tired shadows on the cracked walls of the room. Outside, crickets sang like they didn’t know a life was about to change forever. Kobi lay on a thin mat beside his mother’s bed, staring at the ceiling, counting breaths instead of sheep. Each breath carried fear, hope, and something that felt like guilt.
He was leaving.
And somehow, it felt like stealing.
His small bag sat by the door, two shirts, one trouser, an old toothbrush, and his father’s worn slippers. He touched the slippers with his toes, remembering how his father used to return from work with dust on his feet and stories of how “one day, things will be better.” His father never lived to see that day.
On the bed, his mother shifted. She had turned her face to the wall hours ago, pretending to sleep. Kobi knew better. Every sniffle she tried to hide pierced his chest. This woman had sacrificed meals so he could eat, laughed when there was nothing to laugh about, prayed when prayers felt useless. And now, he was walking away.
He wanted to say something.
“I’ll come back.”
“I won’t forget you.”
“I’ll make you proud.”
But words failed him. Silence felt safer.
Just before dawn, she sat up slowly. Her eyes were swollen, but her voice was steady; the voice of a woman who had cried enough tears to last a lifetime.
“Come,” she said softly.
She reached under her pillow and brought out a small piece of cloth. Inside were folded, crumpled notes. Kobi’s throat tightened. He knew where the money came from, extra hours at the market, borrowed change, food not eaten.
She pressed the money into his palm and closed his fingers around it.
“This is not much,” she said, forcing a smile. “But it will open the first door. God will open the rest.”
Tears rolled down Kobi’s face before he could stop them. He knelt, resting his head on her knees like a child again. She placed her hand on his head and prayed, not loudly, not dramatically, but with the desperation of a mother handing her son to an uncertain world.
“Lagos will test you,” she whispered. “Hunger will talk to you. Shame will talk to you. Fast money will talk to you. When they do, remember who you are.”
She lifted his face and looked into his eyes.
“No matter what Lagos gives you… don’t let it take your conscience.”
When the sky began to brighten, Kobi stood by the door. His bag felt heavier than it should. His mother followed him outside, barefoot on the cold ground. Neighbors were still asleep. There were no witnesses, just the two of them and the morning air.
She hugged him tightly. Too tightly.
“Don’t forget to call,” she said.
“I won’t,” he replied, though he didn’t know how or when.
As he walked away, his legs trembled. Every step felt like betrayal. He wanted to turn back, to run into her arms and say he changed his mind. But he didn’t. He couldn’t.
If he looked back, he knew his courage would collapse.
So he kept walking, toward Lagos, toward dreams, toward pain he could not yet imagine, while behind him, a mother stood alone, watching her son disappear into dust and destiny.
Next: episode TWO
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