Cookie jar bakery….

Hey guys…

Once upon a time there was a chef called Eros….

And he owned a bakery called cookie jar bakery….

Everyone needs to walk down here everyday 

 especially on Mondays when it’s a fresh start , 

You wouldn’t also mind to take a bite of one of these red velvet cakes…. 

I trust u wouldn’t …….

Or these stop by to book fr these loveliest…. 

  

  


 

  

  

  Oops before I forget ……

My favorite chef….

Tolu Eros

 DM for more info đź“©đź“©sylviaativie63@gmail.com

Onions”

Today which is the happiest day in a child’s life…..

Has turned out to be my worst nightmare…….

Today,

Tuesday,December 25……”Christmas Day” , 

A day when children put on new clothes,with flashy colors and stunning designs……….

Today, their parents will take them out to places of leisure…..

Today, 

I barely even have “new rags” to wear, but the old ones which have been covering my nakedness……..

I am not a beggar,but…………

Lying close to me is a wheelbarrow filled with “onions”………………

  I hawk onions everyday……

It’s our means of survival…..

It is a kind of trade that doesn’t observe any day of obligation,

I have to hawk on the busy streets of Lagos……

But still we won’t be able to afford even a tasteless jollof rice…….

My mother at the other part of our half collapsed cubicle,

Continues to stare at the empty leaked pots with patches all over….

I can see the tear drops running down her cheeks……

So I set out to hawk “onions”……

I come across kids from different backgrounds…….

The rich……..

The average…….

The poor….,

And the beggars.

I can’t help but to stare…..

My family does not belong to any category…….

As I walk down the streets,with my wheelbarrow……,

Lost in my own thoughts………….

Then I try to look up to see if “God is really watching”…………….

Not too long, I start hearing shouts and screams……..

I don’t know what is happening………

I see a man standing over me, his hands covered with blood…….. 

His voice is faint……but I know he is talking to me…..

“Young boy,what is your name?, 

Where are your parents?” He asks……….

Those questions………

Do I even have a name………

Now it has dawned on me that I just got knocked down by a reckless driver……

“Am I about to die?” I ask myself repeatedly………

I look up again to see if “God is still watching”……

My worst nightmare has just began………

What will happen to my mother??……..

I am all she’s got left…………………………..

#SylviaDaily

Amina…..

And as we drove by the bridges,

I couldn’t stop looking at the beggarsimageon the streets  popularly known as “almajiris”……

they were just too many that I could notice the smallest of them all………

i asked the driver to stop ,but he answered saying “Madame I no fit pack for here,dem they toll motor  for here”.

Little did he know what my intentions were…………

I got home at half past eight…….At that time Peter still hadn’t called.

Peter? That name ………

The name that never left my lips when we were  still together.

I decided not to get worried……so I went upstairs to have a warm bathe,

that sweet smell of lavender……

What do u think it is? I asked my self

Another voice replied me from my conscience………..

It sounded a name……….

“AMINAaaaaaa”

“Who the hell is Amina? “Another voice asked….

Then it dawned on me that i didn’t stop to interrogate the smallest of the almajiris….

Tears rolling down my cheek

I could hear “Amina’s whispers

“You were supposed to be my helper”…………..

#sylviaDaily