NP’s Family Dynamics with Eesher: When a houseboy becomes a benefactor..
“Never underestimate the power of small kindness. What may seem like scraps to one person could become the seed of someone else’s success. Treat people with dignity, especially those who serve in silence—because life has a way of turning tables. The boy you feed today may be the man who feeds you tomorrow.” – Aisha Musa Auyo
In this week’s episode of NP’s Family Dynamics with Eesher, we brought to our readers a touching story of gratitude, redemption, and the quiet power of giving back.
In a world where kindness is often overlooked, one young boy’s journey from a slipperless houseboy to a successful benefactor reminds us that compassion, no matter how small, can change lives.
Dear Sis Eesher,
“I was twelve years old when I arrived from my village, slipperless and fatherless, with only a note pinned to my shirt:
“Please help my son. He can do any work.”
They took me in, Madam, her banker husband, and their three children, offering me a corner of the kitchen to sleep in. My days were filled with endless chores: washing clothes until my hands cracked, sweeping floors until my knees ached, ironing uniforms under the harsh glare of the kitchen bulb. I was invisible. I ate last, left with rice scraps or crusty bread, and sometimes only the tea they’d poured and discarded.
“Eat fast—don’t waste my gas,” Madam would say, and I never dared complain.
Yet each night, by that humble bulb, I devoured her children’s old textbooks. I taught myself to spell, to write, to dream.
Then, one day, her youngest son fell ill. None of the staff could carry him, but he reached for me. I stayed at his side all night. In the morning, Madam finally saw me, not as a servant, but as someone who mattered. She pressed her old phone into my trembling hands and slipped me ₦500 for exercise books. That small generosity planted a seed in my heart.
Years passed. I scrubbed houses and cleaned offices, saving every kobo. I earned my way into polytechnic, studied accounting, graduated, and built a modest business. Yet I never forgot the woman who gave me her leftovers.
In 2024, I learned that Madam was widowed, alone in that same house, her children abroad, and her savings gone. So I returned—not to beg, but to bless. She didn’t recognize me at first. Then, when I whispered,
“Madam… you used to give me leftover rice,”
she gasped, tears welling.
“Is it you… Chukwuma?”
I nodded. “Yes. And today, I came to give you something back.”
I handed her an envelope containing ₦250,000 and promised her that sum every month, forever, from my foundation.
“You gave me food. I’m giving you rest.”
She fell to her knees, wept, and begged forgiveness. I embraced her and whispered,
“You never owed me anything. Your scraps were my stepping stones.”
Now, every first Saturday, a car pulls up to her gate, laden with groceries, cash, and care—proof that even the smallest kindness can blossom into a lifelong blessing.”
Written by Rosyworld CRN
2003. Lagos, Nigeria.
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With tears
Aisha you make me cry
Thank you.