Abalu Khadijah Opeyemi writes,
The atmosphere was cool, the body felt the sensation, preferring to stay indoors as the weather breezed its coldness, blowing gently into every part of Danfodites’ body. It was already 7:30 a.m, the morning had been twilit, the day looked gloomy, but the sky had kissed the earth with its brightness. I left the hostel for my 8 a.m lecture due to the long-distance venue. I had to rush not to get to the class late. Due to this reason, I couldn’t eat anything with the hope that I would return quickly to the hostel.
Throughout the lecture hours, I didn’t get myself composed, battling with my stomach, it was giving me the sign that it needed food to hold on to. My friend that knew I didn’t eat anything before coming to class lamented on my action. She asked me why I would do such a thing, knowing fully well of my condition.
I couldn’t give her any response, as I kept looking like a little child who had just lost her bread to a goat. I kept enduring the pain and I persuaded her that I would be fine till we get back to the hostel since I had only seventy nairas on me which cannot go to the satisfaction of the battalions in my stomach.
Unfortunately for me, after the lecture, the class representatives called us and told us that a lecturer taking us practical asked us to meet him by 11 O’clock for another class. We had no choice but to leave for the laboratory for practical class. We sat there for almost two hours before the man showed up.
During our stay at the laboratory, I wasn’t myself all through, as the pain kept increasing, my stomach was seriously grumbling, but I kept enduring it, having the mind that I’ll soon return to the hostel. We left the laboratory after 3:00 p.m and I went to the mosque to observe the (afternoon prayer) and since it was almost time for Asr, I decided to wait and pray that too.
My friend kept disturbing me that I must find something to eat as she gathered the money in my purse with the one she had at hand. She got me a biscuit with sachet water. Immediately after the prayer, we headed to the hostel. Despite eating the biscuit, the hunger was still unbearable, but I had the hope that I would surely get something to eat when I get to the hostel.
On stepping into my room at the hostel, I was putting off my dress when I heard a voice of a sister calling on my name that she wanted to plait her hair. My ears rose quickly as I heard it was a money matter, I instantly forgot all the pains and stress I had been through. I did not hesitate to quickly ask her to sit down as I plaited her hair, since I needed money.
Then I wondered, asking myself rhetorically, “are these what our parents always go through at their places of work?” I wondered how they return home late, tired, put meals on the dining, go to bed after ensuring we had slept well, and still be the first to wake up the next day, just to meet our needs and demand. They sacrifice a lot, deep inside them, they are workaholics, and truly, they deserve some accolades.
May the Lord Almighty continue to bless all-merciful parents outside there, and ease their affairs. May He perfect everything that concerns them and I pray that every parent eats the fruits of their labour without being attached to any sorrow. Aamin.

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