The rain fell very heavy that night, beating against the tin roofs of every sleeping villagers. The streets were empty and was only saved for the stray dogs or goats seeking for shelter. Somewhere at d edge of the market, a little girl sat down looking stressed, her knees directly at her chest. Her tatterd clothes were soaked and heavy from the rain. She is not more than six years old, yet her eyes carries the weight of someone who had seen how wide the sees are.

Her name was Amarachi, but everyone called her Amara as a short form for her name. She had been laying there for hours, shivering due to the cold weather, her lips trembling as she she was talking to herself “Mama will come back... Mama will come back...” But deep down, she knew that her mom will not come back. Mama wasn’t coming back. Not tonight. Not ever. This actually touched her deep down.

It had started earlier that day. Amara and her mother traveled to a very far market to sell roasted corn. Business was very slow and her mother was also very frustrated. She was thinking inside and was looking around as if she was looking for someone or something. Amara never understood wat was going on, but she never asked questions. Mama had been acting unusual for the Past 3 weeks now, always lost in thought and always angry.

When the sun has fully set, Mama told Amara to sit and wait by the store while she went to “handle something really important".Amara obeyed, clutching the small basket of unsold corn. She waited and waited, watching as the market got emptied and the sky became dark. The rain started not long after, but Mama never came back.

She began to worry. At first she thought maybe Mama had gotten lost in the rain. Maybe she was just late. But as the hours came by, the truth began to sink into her head. She taught to herself so Mama has left me the way Papa did. Amara was alone with tears on her eyes.

The rain became stronger, and her tiny body became uncontrollably. She thought about going home, but she didn’t know the way. she didn't even pay attention during the Jorney so for her there is no point going home.

Just then a voice called at Amara hey little how are you? Amara looked up to see an old woman standing a few metres away. She was wrapped in a thick clothes, her face wrinkled but kind. “What are you doing out here in the rai? the old woman asked and where is your mother?

Amara tried to speak, but no words came out. Her throat was stiff and she didn’t know that she had began to spill tears off her cheeks. The old womn nooded her head. She then told Amara "poor child come with me".

Amara hesitated. Her mother has always warned her not to ever talk with strangers. But her mother wasn't here. And the old woman didn’t look dangerous so Amara didn't have a problem with following her. Since anything, she reminded Amara of her grandmother, who had passed away years ago.

Slowly, Ama got to her feet and followed the woman. She led her to a small hut at the last end of the village. It was warm inside, with a fire crackling at one the corner of the hut. The smell of freshly cooked yam filled the air, making Amara's stomach growl loudly.

“Sit,” the old woman said, pointing to a stool close to the fire. “What’s your name?”

“Amarachi but you can call me Amara" she whispered, her voice barely audible.

“Well, Amara, you can call me Mama Emeka. And tonight, you will stay here. Tomorrow, we will try to find out what's next to do.”

Amara nodded, too tired and hungry to argue. Mama Emeka handed her a plate of yam and palm oil, and she ate very quickly, barely chewing. The warmth of the fire and the food in her belly made her eyelids grow heavy. For the first time in some time now, she felt protected

But as she went off to sleep, one thought lingered in her mind: Why had Mama left her? Did she do something wrong?