20/08/2026
The Son Who Survived Without His Father
On a quiet street in Awka, Anambra State, there lived a young man named Obinna.
Obinna was not rich, but he was one of those men who believed that happiness did not always come from money. He worked hard, respected people, and loved his family with everything he had.
His wife was called Adaeze.
Adaeze was a gentle woman with a kind heart. She was the type of woman who could have only ₦1,000 in her pocket and still give half of it to someone who needed help.
Obinna loved her deeply.
They lived in a small house around Ifite Awka. The house was not beautiful, but whenever you entered it, you could feel the love inside.
After several years of marriage, Adaeze gave birth to a baby boy.
The day Obinna saw his son for the first time, tears filled his eyes.
He carried the baby carefully and whispered,
“My son, you will never suffer in this life. As long as I am alive, I will do everything I can to give you a good life.”
Adaeze smiled from the bed.
“What will you name him?” she asked.
Obinna looked at the baby for a long time before answering.
“Somtochukwu.”
And from that day, everybody called the little boy Somto.
The three of them lived happily.
Every evening, Obinna returned from work and Somto would run towards him.
“Daddy!”
Obinna would drop whatever was in his hands and carry him.
Sometimes, he would buy him a small biscuit from the roadside.
Sometimes, it was a toy.
Sometimes, he had nothing to give him.
But Somto did not care.
To the little boy, having his father come home was enough.
Adaeze would watch the two of them playing and smile.
Those were the days when their house was full of laughter.
On Sundays, they went to church together.
Sometimes they visited Eke Awka Market to buy food.
Other times, they went to Onitsha to visit relatives.
Life was simple.
But they were happy.
Then one rainy season, everything changed.
Adaeze became sick.
At first, everyone thought it was something small.
She complained of weakness and body pain.
Obinna took her to a hospital in Awka.
The doctors ran tests.
The sickness became worse.
Obinna spent almost all the money he had saved trying to make his wife better.
He prayed every night.
He even travelled with her to Nnewi, hoping another hospital would give them better news.
But the sickness kept getting stronger.
One night, Adaeze called Obinna closer to her bed.
Somto was sleeping beside her.
She looked at her husband and tried to smile.
“Obinna.”
“Yes, my love.”
“Please take care of Somto.”
Obinna frowned.
“Why are you talking like this?”
“Just promise me.”
“I promise.”
“Even if I am not here…”
“Stop it, Adaeze.”
Tears rolled down her cheeks.
“Promise me you will never let him feel that he has no mother.”
Obinna held her hand tightly.
“I promise you.”
Adaeze looked at Somto one last time.
“My son…”
She could barely speak.
Then she closed her eyes.
That was the last time she spoke.
Adaeze died before morning.
Obinna's world broke.
He cried like a child.
For days, he could not eat properly.
He would sit in the corner of the room and stare at the place where his wife used to sleep.
Sometimes, he would hear Somto calling,
“Daddy.”
And he would quickly wipe his tears before answering.
But inside, he was dying.
The funeral was held in their hometown near Nnewi.
People came.
They prayed.
They cried.
They buried Adaeze.
Then everyone went home.
But Obinna went home with a pain that never left him.
Somto was only seven years old.
He did not fully understand death.
For many weeks, he kept asking,
“Daddy, when will Mummy come back?”
Obinna would look away.
“She is with God.”
“Will she come back from there?”
Obinna had no answer.
One evening, Somto sat outside their house holding one of his mother's old wrappers.
He pressed it against his face.
“Daddy,” he said quietly, “it still smells like Mummy.”
Obinna turned away so his son would not see him cry.
Months passed.
Obinna tried his best to raise Somto alone.
But life was not easy.
He worked during the day and returned home tired.
He cooked whatever he could.
He washed his son's clothes.
He helped him with schoolwork.
But as time went on, people around him began telling him something.
“You need a wife.”
“Somto needs a mother.”
“You cannot do everything alone.”
At first, Obinna refused.
His heart still belonged to Adaeze.
But after two years, loneliness began to win.
That was when he met Ngozi.
Ngozi was a beautiful woman from around Oka-Akoko in Awka.
She knew how to speak sweetly.
She made Obinna believe that she would love Somto like her own child.
One evening, Obinna asked her,
“Can you really take care of my son?”
Ngozi smiled.
“Why are you asking me such a question? Somto is your son, but if I marry you, he will be my son too.”
Obinna believed her.
He remembered the promise he made to Adaeze.
He thought he was bringing a mother into his son's life.
He did not know he was bringing the beginning of another kind of suffering.
At first, everything was fine.
Ngozi treated Somto well.
She bought him clothes.
She cooked for him.
She called him “my son.”
Obinna was happy.
He thought he had made the right decision.
Then Ngozi became pregnant.
She gave birth to a baby boy.
The child was named Chukwudi.
And slowly, everything changed.
The woman who once called Somto “my son” stopped calling him that.
Whenever Obinna was around, she behaved kindly.
But whenever he left the house, her face changed.
“Somto, have you finished sweeping?”
“Yes, Mummy.”
“Then wash the plates.”
“I washed them in the morning.”
“Are you talking back to me?”
“No, Mummy.”
“Go and do it again.”
Somto obeyed.
As Chukwudi grew older, the difference became worse.
Chukwudi had new shoes.
Somto wore old ones.
Chukwudi had enough food.
Somto was sometimes told to wait.
Chukwudi had a new school bag.
Somto continued using the same torn bag.
Whenever Obinna asked why, Ngozi had an answer.
“Your son is becoming stubborn.”
“Your son wastes money.”
“Your son does not appreciate anything.”
Obinna believed his wife.
He never took the time to ask Somto what was happening.
That was his biggest mistake.
One morning, Somto came home from school with a torn shirt.
Obinna looked at him.
“What happened?”
Somto lowered his head.
“Nothing, Daddy.”
“Who tore your shirt?”
Somto looked towards Ngozi.
She was standing behind his father.
He quickly looked away.
“I fell.”
Obinna nodded.
“Be careful next time.”
That night, Somto cried quietly in his room.
He remembered his mother.
He wished she were still alive.
He wished someone would ask him if he was okay.
But nobody did.
As the years passed, Ngozi's treatment became worse.
Sometimes she sent Somto to sleep without food.
Sometimes she accused him of stealing money.
Sometimes she told him he was useless.
One day, when Somto was sixteen, he came home and found his school books outside the house.
Ngozi had thrown them away.
“I don't want to see you reading here again,” she said.
Somto was shocked.
“Why?”
“Because you think you are better than my son.”
“No, Mummy. I don't.”
“Then stop behaving like it.”
Obinna came home later.
Somto wanted to tell him everything.
He stood in front of his father.
“Daddy…”
“Yes?”
Somto looked at him.
For a few seconds, he could not speak.
Then he simply said,
“Nothing.”
That night, Somto made a decision.
He would leave.
Not because he hated his father.
But because he was tired of begging someone to love him.
The next morning, before sunrise, he packed two shirts, one pair of trousers and his school certificate into a small bag.
He looked at his father's room.
He wanted to say goodbye.
But he was afraid.
So he left a small piece of paper on the table.
It said:
“Daddy, I am going away. I don't know where I will sleep tonight, but I know I cannot continue living like this. I still love you. Please forgive me.”
Then he walked away.
He travelled to Onitsha with almost nothing.
He had no money.
No place to stay.
No family waiting for him.
He slept near a shop for several nights.
During the day, he looked for work.
Some people rejected him.
Some insulted him.
Some promised to help and never did.
But Somto kept moving.
One day, he met a man who owned a small phone repair shop around Main Market, Onitsha.
The man was called Mr Okafor.
Somto begged him for work.
“I don't know how to repair phones,” he said.
“But I am ready to learn.”
Mr Okafor looked at him.
“Can you work hard?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Can you be honest?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Then come tomorrow.”
Somto started working.
He cleaned the shop.
He watched customers.
He learned how phones were repaired.
He saved every little amount he earned.
Sometimes he slept hungry.
Sometimes he remembered his father's house and cried.
But he did not go back.
Years passed.
Somto became very good at technology.
He started repairing phones on his own.
Then he started selling phones.
Later, he opened a small technology shop.
The small shop became bigger.
He opened another one in Awka.
Then another in Enugu.
He started importing gadgets.
He started creating software.
People who once ignored him began looking for him.
Somto became successful.
Very successful.
But he never forgot where he came from.
He still remembered sleeping outside a shop in Onitsha.
He still remembered the torn school bag.
He still remembered his mother's voice.
And most of all, he remembered his father.
One evening, while sitting in his office in Awka, Somto received a phone call.
It was from someone in his hometown.
“Somto.”
“Yes?”
“Your father is not doing well.”
Somto became quiet.
“What happened?”
“The family is struggling.”
Somto closed his eyes.
For years, he had wondered whether his father ever missed him.
Now he had the answer.
His father was old.
The business he once had was gone.
Ngozi had made many poor decisions with the family's money.
The house was almost empty.
Chukwudi had grown up without learning responsibility.
The family that once looked down on Somto was now struggling to survive.
A few days later, Somto drove to his father's house.
When he arrived, he stood outside for several minutes.
The house looked different.
Old.
Broken.
Quiet.
He knocked.
Nobody answered.
He knocked again.
Then the door opened.
It was his father.
Obinna looked at him.
For a moment, he did not recognise him.
Then his eyes widened.
“Somto?”
Somto could not speak.
His father touched his face.
“My son…”
Obinna began crying.
He held Somto tightly.
“I thought you were dead.”
Somto's eyes filled with tears.
“No, Daddy.”
“Where have you been?”
“I was trying to survive.”
Obinna cried harder.
“I looked for you.”
Somto knew it was not completely true.
But he did not want to argue.
He entered the house.
Everything was different.
The furniture was gone.
The kitchen was almost empty.
His father looked weak.
Then Ngozi came out.
She saw Somto.
She froze.
Somto looked at her.
For a few seconds, nobody spoke.
The woman who once made him cry was now standing in front of him, looking old and helpless.
“Somto,” she said.
He simply nodded.
Obinna sat down.
“My son, I have made many mistakes.”
Somto looked at him.
“I know.”
“I should have listened to you.”
Somto remained silent.
“I should have protected you.”
His voice broke.
“I failed your mother.”
Somto's eyes became wet.
Obinna continued.
“I failed you too.”
For the first time in many years, Somto allowed himself to cry in front of his father.
“I only wanted you to believe me, Daddy.”
Obinna covered his face.
“I am sorry.”
Those two words were words Somto had waited years to hear.
He wanted to be angry.
He wanted to remind his father of every night he had slept hungry.
Every insult.
Every time he cried alone.
Every time he wished his mother was alive.
But when he looked at the old man sitting before him, he saw not the father who had failed him, but the father who once carried him on his shoulders.
The father who bought him biscuits.
The father who used to wait outside his school.
The father who had once promised his mother that he would protect him.
Somto stood up and hugged him.
“I forgive you, Daddy.”
Obinna cried into his son's shoulder.
“My son.”
“I forgive you.”
But then Somto turned towards Ngozi.
She lowered her eyes.
“Somto…”
He stopped her.
“I have forgiven my father.”
She looked at him.
“But I cannot forgive you.”
The room became silent.
“You knew what you were doing.”
Ngozi began crying.
“I was wrong.”
“You were not confused. You knew.”
She wiped her tears.
“I am sorry.”
Somto looked at her for a long time.
“I will not revenge against you. I will not allow what you did to turn me into a bad person.”
He paused.
“But forgiveness does not mean I have to forget.”
Ngozi nodded while crying.
Somto took care of his father.
He paid his hospital bills.
He repaired the house.
He made sure his father had food.
He even helped Chukwudi find work.
But he never allowed Ngozi to control his life again.
He kept his distance from her.
One evening, Obinna and Somto sat outside the house.
The sun was going down.
The same kind of evening when Somto used to sit outside with his mother's wrapper.
Obinna looked at his son.
“You became a good man.”
Somto smiled sadly.
“Mummy taught me.”
His father looked down.
“I wish she could see you now.”
Somto looked towards the sky.
“She can.”
A tear rolled down his face.
“She can see me.”
Obinna held his son's hand.
For the first time in many years, father and son sat together without anger between them.
Somto had everything now.
Money.
Cars.
Businesses.
A beautiful house.
But none of those things could give him back the childhood he lost.
He could buy his father a new house.
He could pay every bill.
He could fill the kitchen with food.
But he could never buy back the nights he spent crying alone.
He could never bring his mother back.
And he could never erase the pain completely.
Still, he chose forgiveness.
Not because what happened was okay.
But because he did not want his past to control the rest of his life.
Years later, Somto built a school in his mother's name.
He called it Adaeze Memorial School.
The school was built in Awka.
Children from poor families were allowed to study there for free.
Whenever someone asked him why he spent so much money helping children, he would smile.
“Because every child deserves someone who will believe in them.”
And whenever he saw a child sitting alone, he remembered the little boy he used to be.
The boy who only wanted his father to listen.
The boy who left home with two shirts and a broken heart.
The boy who slept outside a shop in Onitsha.
The boy who almost gave up.
But he survived.
He became successful.
And when the people who once rejected him needed him, he still found a way to help.
One Sunday, Somto visited his mother's grave.
He knelt down quietly.
“I did it, Mummy.”
He smiled through his tears.
“I became the man you wanted me to become.”
The wind moved gently through the trees.
Somto wiped his eyes.
“I forgive Daddy.”
He paused.
“But I still remember you.”
And perhaps that was the saddest part of his story.
He had learned how to forgive.
But he never learned how to forget.
Because some wounds close on the outside while the heart carries the scar forever.
Sometimes, the child who grows up without love becomes the adult who gives love to everyone.
And sometimes, the person who was abandoned becomes the person who refuses to abandon others.
Somto lost his mother.
He lost his childhood.
He lost his home.
For many years, he thought he had lost his father too.
But in the end, he found his way back.
Not as the poor little boy who left that house.
He returned as a man.
A man who had every reason to hate.
But chose to forgive.
And that was his greatest success.
If you were Somto, would you forgive your father after everything he allowed you to suffer, or would you completely walk away from the family?
