FOR MY CHILD'S SAKE: Episode 1 (part 1)

"The portrait goes to the lady in front of the row" the auctioneer announced. Phunky looked at the lady beside her who has just bought the auctioned portrait for one hundred thousand naira. Then she looked at the the flower in the portrait and wondered whether she could possibly buy such a portrait at such an expensive price. She had only come to the Queen's Gallery this morning to buy a gift for her mother's sixty-fifth birthday which was scheduled for the weekend. She obviously couldn't buy something so costly. Not that she could not afford it though; it's just that if she must spend that much on a painting, it must be of a very important reason. Apart from that, her mother had made it clear that she did not want an expensive gift.

The lady beside Phunky stood up to receive the portrait she had paid for. She was visibly pleased with what she had bought and everybody could see the smile of contentment on her face. As she graciously walked towards the entrance of the auction hall, Phunky's eyes followed her. She couldn't stop wondering what the portrait was meant for, but.....

"Ladies and Gentlemen, the next item to be auctioned goes for one hundred and fifty thousand naira. It was a ancient goblet from the Ashanti Dynasty of Ghana. A three hundred years old goblet made from raw silver"

The announcement jerked Phunky back to consciousness. She had become immersed in the lady that bought the portrait and had forgotten that an auction was going on. Suddenly, a voice came from the back of the crowd. "One hundred and seventy thousand!" the auctioneer's voice rang out: One hundred and seventy thousand! One hundred and seventy thousand! Going! Going! "Two hundred thousand naira!" a quiet looking old gentlemen leaning on a walking stick announced.

The auctioneer shouted again. Two hundred thousand! Ladies and Gentlemen, two hundred thousand naira! Any more bidding? "Two hundred thousand naira!" Going! Going!

"Three hundred thousand naira!" a voice rang out! Everybody turned around to see who had made such a big leap in the auction price. All were surprised to see a young man in his mid-twenties smiling. "Three hundred thousand naira".

He repeated calmly. The auctioneer, obviously happy at the way the auction was heading, shouted at the top of his voice: three hundred thousand cool naira! Going! Going!.....

No response came from the audience and the auctioneer's voice came down: Gone!

The young man stepped forward to receive the golden goblet from the auctioneer. As this was going on, loud shout of cheers from outside the gallery interrupted the programme. A tall handsome man probably in his late thirties or early forties walked into the hall with an entourage of five men and three women. They were followed by a large crowd of admirers and a team of supporters.

Phunky couldn't see the man's face because of the crowd but the people were whispering that the man is the new owner of the Queen's Gallery. He had just bought it and this was his first visit to the place since his company took over the administration of the gallery. The man went with his entourage into his large office on the ground floor of the gallery. A few minutes later, the crowd dispersed and tranquility set in. The auctioneer apologize to the people for thr interruption and announced the final object to be auctioned.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, we are going for the Royal Crouch, the most exquisite cane sofa in the part of Africa. It was acquired by the gallery ten years ago and since then, it was an award winning craft at the Paris International Contest for Craftsmen twelve years ago. Nigeria's genius craftsmen, Dayo Balogun, who made it originally, offered it for sale to the gallery ten years ago in order to pay for the kidney transplant surgery of a secondary school student who sorely needed help"

"Apart from its value as a craft, it is also a symbol of love and humanitarian affection. Once again, ladies and gentlemen, I offer the Royal couch. Originally, it was bought for five hundred thousand naira, but the new management has instructed that we can auction it for half of that."

Before the auctioneer could repeat the price, someone shouted, 'two hundred and seventy thousand naira!'. Ever since the name of Dayo Balogun was mentioned, Phunky had gone back into trance. The name had bought back memories of pleasure and pain; if love and betrayal; of loneliness; hope and despair; of sacrificed innocence on the altar of stupidity; and of folly called love. She closed her eyes and whispered the name again: "Dayo Balogun". "Is it the same Dayo that I know or another one? Is it just a coincidence or my betrayer has come back?" she soliloquised.

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