As the SUV drove through traffic, his eyes moved slowly across the roadside.
Then suddenly, he saw something that made him sit up straight.
At first, he was not sure.
He looked again.
A woman was sitting close to the roadside. Old, tired, holding a small bowl in her hands. She was begging for help.
Okon’s heart slowed.
He leaned closer to the window.
As the car got nearer, he strained his eyes, trying hard to see the woman more clearly from a distance.
“No. No. That face,” he whispered.
He quickly tapped the driver’s seat.
“Stop the car,” he said sharply.
The driver slowed down at once and pulled over.
Okon did not wait.
He opened the door and stepped out quickly.
The noise of the road faded in his ears.
His eyes stayed on the woman.
He walked closer, step by step.
Then he stopped.
His face went still.
It was his mother.
Mrs. Madara.
She sat there, weak, holding the bowl close to her chest. Her clothes were old and worn out. Her body looked like she had not eaten well for many years.
Okon’s mouth opened, but at first, no words came out.
Then he spoke slowly.
“Mother.”
The woman lifted her head.
Her eyes met his.
For a moment, she did not move.
Then her hands began to shake.
“Okon,” she said in a low voice.
Tears filled her eyes as she tried to stand, but her legs could not hold her well.
Okon rushed forward and held her.
“Don’t stand. Please, don’t stand yet,” he said quickly.
He looked around, confused and upset.
“Why are you here? What happened?”
Mrs. Madara tried to speak, but her voice was weak.
