This is the story of a poor girl named Esther and a crippled beggar everyone laughed at. Esther was a young woman, just 24 years old. She sold food in a small wooden shop by the roadside in Lagos. Her stall was made of old planks and iron sheets. It stood under a big tree, where many people came to eat.
Esther didn’t have much. Her slippers were worn out, and her dress had patches. But she was always smiling. Even when she was tired, she greeted people kindly. Good afternoon, sir. You’re welcome, she would say to every customer.
She woke up very early each morning to cook rice, beans, and yam porridge. Her hands worked fast, but her heart was slow with sadness. Esther had no family.
Her parents died when she was young. She lived in a small room not far from her shop. No light, no potable water.
Just her and her dreams. One afternoon, as Esther wiped her bench, her friend Mama Titi walked by. Esther, Mama Titi said, why are you always smiling when you are struggling just like every one of us? Esther smiled again and replied, because crying will not bring food to my pot.
Mama Titi laughed and walked away, but her words stayed in Esther’s heart. It was true. She had nothing.
But she still gave people something to eat, even when they couldn’t pay. She didn’t know her life was about to change. Every afternoon, something strange happened at Esther’s shop.
A crippled beggar would appear from the corner of the road. He always came slowly, pushing his old wheelchair with his hands. The wheels made a rough sound on the stones.
Creak, creak, creak. People passing by would laugh or cover their noses. Look at this dirty man again, one boy said.
The man’s legs were wrapped in bandages. His knicker were torn at the knees. His face was dark with dust.
His eyes were tired. Some people said he smelled. Others said he was mad.
But Esther never looked away. She called him Papa J. That afternoon, as the sun burned hot above, Papa J pushed his wheelchair and stopped beside her shop. Esther looked at him and said softly, You’re here again, Papa J. You didn’t eat yesterday.
Papa J looked down. His voice was low. I was too weak to come, he said.
I have not eaten in two days. Esther looked at her table. Only one plate of beans and yam was left.
That was the food she wanted to eat herself. She paused for a second. Then, without a word, she picked up the plate and placed it in front of him.
Here, eat, she said. Papa J looked at the food, then at her. You’re giving me your last plate again? Esther nodded.
I can cook again when I get home. His hands shook as he took the spoon. His eyes looked wet.
But he didn’t cry. He just bent his head and started to eat slowly. People walking by stared at them.
Esther, why do you always feed that beggar? a woman asked. Esther smiled and replied. If I was the one sitting there in a wheelchair, wouldn’t I want someone to help me too? Papa J came every day, but he never begged with his mouth.