I was about 15 years of age when my mom told me I would accompany her to Cotonou, the Benin Republic a French-speaking West African country that shares a border with the Federal Republic of Nigeria to buy thrift clothes in bulk at a cheaper rate which she sells.
I was excited because I have always begged her that I accompany her there but she always refused, but this time out of her free will she promised to take me along.
D-day arrived for us to travel, and we left the house as early as 6:00 am, we traveled by road because back then we stayed at Badagry, a place not so far from the border between Nigeria and Cotonou.
The journey was about 3 hours by road. Before we got to the border we encountered so many immigration officers on the road, we kept showing them our passports and then they asked us a few questions and checked our bags and then.
We got to the border which is called the Seme border by about 7:30 am and then we alighted from the bus we bordered.
We changed the Nigerian currency to that of Benin ๐ง๐ฏ which is from Naira to Cefa.
The Adventure began because we are now to board a bus heading to Benin Republic, Cotonou to be precise.
I was engrossed by how neat and beautiful the city of Benin is, as I was looking through the window, I noticed that most people on the bus weren't speaking English language but French, well I was with my mom so I felt safe.
At about 9:00 am I and my mom alighted, welcome to the Benin Republic, as I read, then I wore a big smile.
The struggle began when we wanted to board a commercial motorcycle to the place mom usually buys her thrift wears in bulk. And each one to a commercial bike as two people weren't allowed to sit on one bike.
I only hear. "Bonjour, comment ca va?", comment appellee tu? (Which means good morning, how are you, what is your name) please don't laugh at me I might not know how to spell it.๐น I was taught those basic greetings in school.
My mom was trying to tell the drivers where we were headed, but they kept nodding their heads in affirmative as if they both understood where we were going so I wasn't bothered. Mom handed me a small torchlight phone and some Cefas and asked me to wait for her if I get there before her.
When I got to the supposed destination, I gave the driver the amount he charged and he zoomed off, I was patiently waiting for my mom to be there as soon as possible.
It is about 30mins later, mom hasn't shown up, ha! I became worried, then I picked up my phone to place a call, lo and behold there was no network on my phone, ha! My eyes had already turned red because I started to hope I wasn't lost.
Language became a barrier as I couldn't speak French or understand French, so I was looking like a fool๐ฟ, I started to imagine how my excitement will suddenly turn to regrets, how I would become a lost foreigner in another man's country.
I sat down beside a bank, I think I still recall the name, it is called FEMA bank, I was so hungry and lost, then I heard one man speaking the Igbo language on the phone with someone, I immediately ran off to meet him, I could now communicate with this one, he probably must be a Nigerian who speaks the Nigerian dialect or whatever, he understands the language I can communicate with.
I patiently waited for him to end the call and then I spoke my dialect with him, which was the Igbo dialect, I narrated how I was lost and needed to reunite with my mom.
He decided to take me to the police station, I told him I didn't want to go to the police station, that I'm sure my mom must be looking for me too, the only problem was the no network on my phone.
The man showed me the spot where I could stay and that the MTN network fluctuates but it will come on if my mom's number was on roam, that I could reach her.
This is almost an hour 30mins, oh, then I walked right to that spot, it was like a roundabout, so I stood right there and luckily the network came on, I was calling my mom she wasn't taking her calls, I got scared, at about the third time I tried her number, it wasn't going thru that was how I lost all hope and so I started crying.
And so I sat there with tears in my eyes, I am now An officially lost child. The last thing on my mind was to take pictures coupled with the fact that I was with a torchlight button phone.
In no time, I heard my name from a distance, my mom was looking for me too, and crying ๐น๐น. I'm sure she must be thinking of what to tell my dad being dad's baby girl.๐น
Immediately I ran off to meet her and told her my ordeal, she said someone asked her to come to that spot too to reach my number ๐น๐น๐น, the bike men dropped us at two different locations, like two places
which bears the same name.
That was how I reunited with my mom, I would have been in Cotonou by now๐น๐น๐น.
Well, mom bought me food and held my hands as we boarded a tricycle to the market to get what brought us there.
It was adventurous and an unforgettable experience. This is not fiction, it is a true life story that happened many years ago.
Lost in a foreign country Have you ever been lost in a foreign country? Tell us the story in a post of at least 300 words and use your images where possible. No fictional stories, this must be factual and your own story.
Here's my entry to this weekend's prompt by @galenkp