Big Shaq Notices a Pregnant Woman eating from trash at the Street of Lagos, Nigeria, then…
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Shaquille O’Neal’s Journey: A Heartwarming Encounter in Lagos, Nigeria
Shaquille O’Neal, the NBA legend, millionaire, and global icon, was in Lagos, Nigeria, closing a business deal. But no one knew that one heartbreaking sight would change his trip and two lives forever.
The streets of Lagos pulsed with life, a chaotic symphony of honking okadas, shouting vendors, and blaring car horns. The air hung thick with diesel fumes, mixing with the scent of fried plantains from roadside stalls. Pedestrians wove through traffic fearlessly, their feet barely missing the speeding motorcycles that zipped past beneath the scorching 110° sun. The city refused to slow down.
Shaquille O’Neal sat in the back of a sleek black SUV, tinted windows shielding him from the relentless sun. His broad shoulders barely fit in the seat, and his knees pressed against the front. Dressed in a crisp, custom-tailored navy blue suit, he looked every bit the businessman he had become after retiring from basketball.
This wasn’t his first time in Lagos. He had been here before for charity work, business deals, and even a few speaking engagements. But today was different. His visit was all about numbers, profits, investments, and contracts. A major Nigerian tech company wanted him as a brand ambassador, and he was here to close the deal.
His assistant, David Okoro, a sharp-dressed Nigerian American, sat beside him, flipping through documents. “Shaq, after the meeting, we have dinner at the Sky Lounge. High-end place, Lagos’ finest. You’ll love it,” David said, adjusting his tie.
Shaq gave a half-smile. He appreciated the hospitality, but something about this trip felt off. Maybe it was the exhaustion from constant travel or maybe it was just the weight of being in a place where struggle and wealth clashed so visibly.
As the SUV turned onto a crowded street, something outside the window made Shaq’s smile vanish. At the edge of the road, near a pile of trash bags and discarded fruit peels, a woman knelt on the ground. Her dress, once a bright yellow, was now torn and covered in dirt. She was heavily pregnant, at least 8 months along, and sweat dripped down her forehead as she adjusted the small child strapped to her back.
The boy, no older than two, was fast asleep, his tiny ribs visible through a faded, sweat-soaked t-shirt. His arms dangled lifelessly, too weak to hold on. Shaq felt his stomach tighten. The city noise blurred as he focused on the heartbreaking scene. A pregnant mother, exhausted and starving, a child barely clinging to life.
He had seen poverty before, he had grown up with struggle, but this was different. “Stop the car,” Shaq said suddenly, his deep voice cutting through the air.
David looked up, confused. “What?”
“Stop the car,” Shaq repeated, his tone firm.
The driver hesitated but obeyed. The SUV rolled to a stop at the curb, causing frustrated drivers behind them to honk loudly. Shaq didn’t care. Without waiting, he pushed open the door and stepped out, his massive frame casting a shadow over the scene.
The woman tensed, clutching her child protectively, her wide, frightened eyes darting to the towering man standing before her. She had likely never seen someone this large in real life, let alone someone dressed in a suit worth more than most people in the neighborhood made in a year.
Shaq crouched down slowly, his expression softening. “What’s your name?” he asked gently.
The woman hesitated, her lips trembling as if speaking took more strength than she had left. “Na,” she whispered finally.
Shaq glanced at the boy, then back at her. “And him?”
She swallowed hard, brushing a damp strand of hair from her face. “Oena,” she said, her voice barely above a breath.
Shaq could see the pain behind her eyes. She wasn’t just tired; she was on the edge of breaking. David had stepped out of the SUV by now, watching the scene unfold with quiet curiosity. A few bystanders had also noticed, slowing their steps, whispering among themselves.
“Are you hungry?” Shaq asked, his voice softer now.
Na nodded hesitantly, but hunger wasn’t even the biggest problem she faced. “I don’t know where to go,” she said, her voice cracking.
Shaq furrowed his brow. What did she mean? Na lowered her gaze. “My husband, he was a fisherman. He drowned in a storm months ago. No family, no home.”
Shaq exhaled slowly, his heart tightening in his chest. He had come to Lagos for business, but at this moment, none of that mattered. This wasn’t just a mother in need; this was a test. And he already knew what he had to do.
Lagos was a city of movement, of people always rushing, always pushing forward. But now, for a brief moment, the street had paused. Vendors stopped calling out their prices, passersby slowed their steps, and the air buzzed with curiosity. Why had a giant of a man stepped out of a luxury SUV to kneel before a woman in rags?
Shaq barely noticed them. His focus remained on Na and Oena. “Come with me,” he said, his voice firm.
Na hesitated, unsure how to behave in a restaurant she had never dreamed of entering. Shaq, despite his massive size, seemed at ease. A waitress approached, eyes widening when she recognized him. “You… your Shaq,” she said, still flustered.
Shaq smiled. “Yeah, but right now, I’m just a guy ordering food for my friend.”
The waitress nodded quickly, still flustered. “What would you like?”
Shaq turned to Na. “Anything you want.”
Na hesitated, glancing at the menu like it was written in a foreign language. Shaq chuckled. “Okay, we’ll make it easy. Jolof rice, suya, plantains, and water. Lots of water.”
The waitress hurried off, and Shaq turned back to Na. “When did you last eat?”
Na hesitated, shame creeping into her expression. “Yesterday. A little rice.”
Shaq’s jaw tightened. He had been hungry before, back when his mother struggled to put food on the table. But he had never been this hungry. He had never been forced to go days without knowing where the next meal would come from.
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a thick stack of crisp $100 bills. Without counting, he pressed it into Na’s trembling hands. “Take this. Get food, get water, get whatever you need.”
Na stared at the money, her fingers tightening around it like it might disappear. She tried to speak, but her voice cracked. This was too much. Shaq shook his head. “It’s not enough, but it’s a start.”
Tears welled in her eyes. She covered her mouth, overwhelmed. The bystanders murmured louder now, some watched in awe while others scoffed. A middle-aged man in a faded green polo shirt shook his head. “Throwing money won’t fix her life.”
A woman in a bright orange headscarf nodded in agreement. “She needs more than cash. What happens when it runs out?”
Shaq heard them, and deep down, he knew they were right. He wasn’t here to drop a few bills and walk away. If he was going to help, he was going to really help.
He turned to David. “Find a hotel. The best one nearby. Get her and the kid a room.”
David blinked. “Shaq, you’re serious about this?”
Shaq gave him a look. David sighed. “Okay, okay. I’ll handle it.”
As David stepped aside to make the call, Shaq turned back to Na. “Come with me. We’ll get you and Oena a place to stay. You can’t be on the streets anymore.”
Na hesitated, unsure how to behave in a situation like this. But then she looked into Shaq’s eyes, and there was no pity, no judgment, just kindness. Slowly, she nodded.
15 minutes later, they were seated in a small, family-run restaurant tucked between two busy streets. The walls were faded, the ceiling fan spun lazily, but the smell of sizzling meat and fresh bread filled the air. Na sat stiffly, unsure how to behave in a restaurant she had never dreamed of entering.
Shaq, despite his massive size, seemed at ease. A waitress approached, eyes widening when she recognized him. “You… your Shaq,” she said, still flustered.
Shaq smiled. “Yeah, but right now, I’m just a guy ordering food for my friend.”
The waitress nodded quickly, still flustered. “What would you like?”
Shaq turned to Na. “Anything you want.”
Na hesitated, glancing at the menu like it was written in a foreign language. Shaq chuckled. “Okay, we’ll make it easy. Jolof rice, suya, plantains, and water. Lots of water.”
The waitress hurried off, and Shaq turned back to Na. “When did you last eat?”
Na hesitated, shame creeping into her expression. “Yesterday. A little rice.”
Shaq’s jaw tightened. He had been hungry before, back when his mother struggled to put food on the table. But he had never been this hungry. He had never been forced to go days without knowing where the next meal would come from.
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a thick stack of crisp $100 bills. Without counting, he pressed it into Na’s trembling hands. “Take this. Get food, get water, get whatever you need.”
Na stared at the money, her fingers tightening around it like it might disappear. She tried to speak, but her voice cracked. This was too much. Shaq shook his head. “It’s not enough, but it’s a start.”
Tears welled in her eyes. She covered her mouth, overwhelmed. The bystanders murmured louder now, some watched in awe while others scoffed. A middle-aged man in a faded green polo shirt shook his head. “Throwing money won’t fix her life.”
A woman in a bright orange headscarf nodded in agreement. “She needs more than cash. What happens when it runs out?”
Shaq heard them, and deep down, he knew they were right. He wasn’t here to drop a few bills and walk away. If he was going to help, he was going to really help.
He turned to David. “Find a hotel. The best one nearby. Get her and the kid a room.”
David blinked. “Shaq, you’re serious about this?”
Shaq gave him a look. David sighed. “Okay, okay. I’ll handle it.”
As David stepped aside to make the call, Shaq turned back to Na. “Come with me. We’ll get you and Oena a place to stay. You can’t be on the streets anymore.”
Na hesitated, unsure how to behave in a situation like this. But then she looked into Shaq’s eyes, and there was no pity, no judgment, just kindness. Slowly, she nodded.
15 minutes later, they were seated in a small, family-run restaurant tucked between two busy streets. The walls were faded, the ceiling fan spun lazily, but the smell of sizzling meat and fresh bread filled the air. Na sat stiffly, unsure how to behave in a restaurant she had never dreamed of entering.
Shaq, despite his massive size, seemed at ease. A waitress approached, eyes widening when she recognized him. “You… your Shaq,” she said, still flustered.
Shaq smiled. “Yeah, but right now, I’m just a guy ordering food for my friend.”
The waitress nodded quickly, still flustered. “What would you like?”
Shaq turned to Na. “Anything you want.”
Na hesitated, glancing at the menu like it was written in a foreign language. Shaq chuckled. “Okay, we’ll make it easy. Jolof rice, suya, plantains, and water. Lots of water.”
The waitress hurried off, and Shaq turned back to Na. “When did you last eat?”
Na hesitated, shame creeping into her expression. “Yesterday. A little rice.”
Shaq’s jaw tightened. He had been hungry before, back when his mother struggled to put food on the table. But he had never been this hungry. He had never been forced to go days without knowing where the next meal would come from.
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a thick stack of crisp $100 bills. Without counting, he pressed it into Na’s trembling hands. “Take this. Get food, get water, get whatever you need.”
Na stared at the money, her fingers tightening around it like it might disappear. She tried to speak, but her voice cracked. This was too much. Shaq shook his head. “It’s not enough, but it’s a start.”
Tears welled in her eyes. She covered her mouth, overwhelmed. The bystanders murmured louder now, some watched in awe while others scoffed. A middle-aged man in a faded green polo shirt shook his head. “Throwing money won’t fix her life.”
A woman in a bright orange headscarf nodded in agreement. “She needs more than cash. What happens when it runs out?”
Shaq heard them, and deep down, he knew they were right. He wasn’t here to drop a few bills and walk away. If he was going to help, he was going to really help.
He turned to David. “Find a hotel. The best one nearby. Get her and the kid a room.”
David blinked. “Shaq, you’re serious about this?”
Shaq gave him a look. David sighed. “Okay, okay. I’ll handle it.”
As David stepped aside to make the call, Shaq turned back to Na. “Come with me. We’ll get you and Oena a place to stay. You can’t be on the streets anymore.”
Na hesitated, unsure how to behave in a situation like this. But then she looked into Shaq’s eyes, and there was no pity, no judgment, just kindness. Slowly, she nodded.
15 minutes later, they were seated in a small, family-run restaurant tucked between two busy streets. The walls were faded, the ceiling fan spun lazily, but the smell of sizzling meat and fresh bread filled the air. Na sat stiffly, unsure how to behave in a restaurant she had never dreamed of entering.
Shaq, despite his massive size, seemed at ease. A waitress approached, eyes widening when she recognized him. “You… your Shaq,” she said, still flustered.
Shaq smiled. “Yeah, but right now, I’m just a guy ordering food for my friend.”
The waitress nodded quickly, still flustered. “What would you like?”
Shaq turned to Na. “Anything you want.”
Na hesitated, glancing at the menu like it was written in a foreign language. Shaq chuckled. “Okay, we’ll make it easy. Jolof rice, suya, plantains, and water. Lots of water.”
The waitress hurried off, and Shaq turned back to Na. “When did you last eat?”
Na hesitated, shame creeping into her expression. “Yesterday. A little rice.”
Shaq’s jaw tightened. He had been hungry before, back when his mother struggled to put food on the table. But he had never been this hungry. He had never been forced to go days without knowing where the next meal would come from.
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a thick stack of crisp $100 bills. Without counting, he pressed it into Na’s trembling hands. “Take this. Get food, get water, get whatever you need.”
Na stared at the money, her fingers tightening around it like it might disappear. She tried to speak, but her voice cracked. This was too much. Shaq shook his head. “It’s not enough, but it’s a start.”
Tears welled in her eyes. She covered her mouth, overwhelmed. The bystanders murmured louder now, some watched in awe while others scoffed. A middle-aged man in a faded green polo shirt shook his head. “Throwing money won’t fix her life.”
A woman in a bright orange headscarf nodded in agreement. “She needs more than cash. What happens when it runs out?”
Shaq heard them, and deep down, he knew they were right. He wasn’t here to drop a few bills and walk away. If he was going to help, he was going to really help.
He turned to David. “Find a hotel. The best one nearby. Get her and the kid a room.”
David blinked. “Shaq, you’re serious about this?”
Shaq gave him a look. David sighed. “Okay, okay. I’ll handle it.”
As David stepped aside to make the call, Shaq turned back to Na. “Come with me. We’ll get you and Oena a place to stay. You can’t be on the streets anymore.”
Na hesitated, unsure how to behave in a situation like this. But then she looked into Shaq’s eyes, and there was no pity, no judgment, just kindness. Slowly, she nodded.
15 minutes later, they were seated in a small, family-run restaurant tucked between two busy streets. The walls were faded, the ceiling fan spun lazily, but the smell of sizzling meat and fresh bread filled the air. Na sat stiffly, unsure how to behave in a restaurant she had never dreamed of entering.
Shaq, despite his massive size, seemed at ease. A waitress approached, eyes widening when she recognized him. “You… your Shaq,” she said, still flustered.
Shaq smiled. “Yeah, but right now, I’m just a guy ordering food for my friend.”
The waitress nodded quickly, still flustered. “What would you like?”
Shaq turned to Na. “Anything you want.”
Na hesitated, glancing at the menu like it was written in a foreign language. Shaq chuckled. “Okay, we’ll make it easy. Jolof rice, suya, plantains, and water. Lots of water.”
The waitress hurried off, and Shaq turned back to Na. “When did you last eat?”
Na hesitated, shame creeping into her expression. “Yesterday. A little rice.”
Shaq’s jaw tightened. He had been hungry before, back when his mother struggled to put food on the table. But he had never been this hungry. He had never been forced to go days without knowing where the next meal would come from.
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a thick stack of crisp $100 bills. Without counting, he pressed it into Na’s trembling hands. “Take this. Get food, get water, get whatever you need.”
Na stared at the money, her fingers tightening around it like it might disappear. She tried to speak, but her voice cracked. This was too much. Shaq shook his head. “It’s not enough, but it’s a start.”
Tears welled in her eyes. She covered her mouth, overwhelmed. The bystanders murmured louder now, some watched in awe while others scoffed. A middle-aged man in a faded green polo shirt shook his head. “Throwing money won’t fix her life.”
A woman in a bright orange headscarf nodded in agreement. “She needs more than cash. What happens when it runs out?”
Shaq heard them, and deep down, he knew they were right. He wasn’t here to drop a few bills and walk away. If he was going to help, he was going to really help.
He turned to David. “Find a hotel. The best one nearby. Get her and the kid a room.”
David blinked. “Shaq, you’re serious about this?”
Shaq gave him a look. David sighed. “Okay, okay. I’ll handle it.”
As David stepped aside to make the call, Shaq turned back to Na. “Come with me. We’ll get you and Oena a place to stay. You can’t be on the streets anymore.”
Na hesitated, unsure how to behave in a situation like this. But then she looked into Shaq’s eyes, and there was no pity, no judgment, just kindness. Slowly, she nodded.
15 minutes later, they were seated in a small, family-run restaurant tucked between two busy streets. The walls were faded, the ceiling fan spun lazily, but the smell of sizzling meat and fresh bread filled the air. Na sat stiffly, unsure how to behave in a restaurant she had never dreamed of entering.
Shaq, despite his massive size, seemed at ease. A waitress approached, eyes widening when she recognized him. “You… your Shaq,” she said, still flustered.
Shaq smiled. “Yeah, but right now, I’m just a guy ordering food for my friend.”
The waitress nodded quickly, still flustered. “What would you like?”
Shaq turned to Na. “Anything you want.”
Na hesitated, glancing at the menu like it was written in a foreign language. Shaq chuckled. “Okay, we’ll make it easy. Jolof rice, suya, plantains, and water. Lots of water.”
The waitress hurried off, and Shaq turned back to Na. “When did you last eat?”
Na hesitated, shame creeping into her expression. “Yesterday. A little rice.”
Shaq’s jaw tightened. He had been hungry before, back when his mother struggled to put food on the table. But he had never been this hungry. He had never been forced to go days without knowing where the next meal would come from.
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a thick stack of crisp $100 bills. Without counting, he pressed it into Na’s trembling hands. “Take this. Get food, get water, get whatever you need.”
Na stared at the money, her fingers tightening around it like it might disappear. She tried to speak, but her voice cracked. This was too much. Shaq shook his head. “It’s not enough, but it’s a start.”
Tears welled in her eyes. She covered her mouth, overwhelmed. The bystanders murmured louder now, some watched in awe while others scoffed. A middle-aged man in a faded green polo shirt shook his head. “Throwing money won’t fix her life.”
A woman in a bright orange headscarf nodded in agreement. “She needs more than cash. What happens when it runs out?”
Shaq heard them, and deep down, he knew they were right. He wasn’t here to drop a few bills and walk away. If he was going to help, he was going to really help.
He turned to David. “Find a hotel. The best one nearby. Get her and the kid a room.”
David blinked. “Shaq, you’re serious about this?”
Shaq gave him a look. David sighed. “Okay, okay. I’ll handle it.”
As David stepped aside to make the call, Shaq turned back to Na. “Come with me. We’ll get you and Oena a place to stay. You can’t be on the streets anymore.”
Na hesitated, unsure how to behave in a situation like this. But then she looked into Shaq’s eyes, and there was no pity, no judgment, just kindness. Slowly, she nodded.
15 minutes later, they were seated in a small, family-run restaurant tucked between two busy streets. The walls were faded, the ceiling fan spun lazily, but the smell of sizzling meat and fresh bread filled the air. Na sat stiffly, unsure how to behave in a restaurant she had never dreamed of entering.
Shaq, despite his massive size, seemed at ease. A waitress approached, eyes widening when she recognized him. “You… your Shaq,” she said, still flustered.
Shaq smiled. “Yeah, but right now, I’m just a guy ordering food for my friend.”
The waitress nodded quickly, still flustered. “What would you like?”
Shaq turned to Na. “Anything you want.”
Na hesitated, glancing at the menu like it was written in a foreign language. Shaq chuckled. “Okay, we’ll make it easy. Jolof rice, suya, plantains, and water. Lots of water.”
The waitress hurried off, and Shaq turned back to Na. “When did you last eat?”
Na hesitated, shame creeping into her expression. “Yesterday. A little rice.”
Shaq’s jaw tightened. He had been hungry before, back when his mother struggled to put food on the table. But he had never been this hungry. He had never been forced to go days without knowing where the next meal would come from.
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a thick stack of crisp $100 bills. Without counting, he pressed it into Na’s trembling hands. “Take this. Get food, get water, get whatever you need.”
Na stared at the money, her fingers tightening around it like it might disappear. She tried to speak, but her voice cracked. This was too much. Shaq shook his head. “It’s not enough, but it’s a start.”
Tears welled in her eyes. She covered her mouth, overwhelmed. The bystanders murmured louder now, some watched in awe while others scoffed. A middle-aged man in a faded green polo shirt shook his head. “Throwing money won’t fix her life.”
A woman in a bright orange headscarf nodded in agreement. “She needs more than cash. What happens when it runs out?”
Shaq heard them, and deep down, he knew they were right. He wasn’t here to drop a few bills and walk away. If he was going to help, he was going to really help.
He turned to David. “Find a hotel. The best one nearby. Get her and the kid a room.”
David blinked. “Shaq, you’re serious about this?”
Shaq gave him a look. David sighed. “Okay, okay. I’ll handle it.”
As David stepped aside to make the call, Shaq turned back to Na. “Come with me. We’ll get you and Oena a place to stay. You can’t be on the streets anymore.”
Na hesitated, unsure how to behave in a situation like this. But then she looked into Shaq’s eyes, and there was no pity, no judgment, just kindness. Slowly, she nodded.
15 minutes later, they were seated in a small, family-run restaurant tucked between two busy streets. The walls were faded, the ceiling fan spun lazily, but the smell of sizzling meat and fresh bread filled the air. Na sat stiffly, unsure how to behave in a restaurant she had never dreamed of entering.
Shaq, despite his massive size, seemed at ease. A waitress approached, eyes widening when she recognized him. “You… your Shaq,” she said, still flustered.
Shaq smiled. “Yeah, but right now, I’m just a guy ordering food for my friend.”
The waitress nodded quickly, still flustered. “What would you like?”
Shaq turned to Na. “Anything you want.”
Na hesitated, glancing at the menu like it was written in a foreign language. Shaq chuckled. “Okay, we’ll make it easy. Jolof rice, suya, plantains, and water. Lots of water.”
The waitress hurried off, and Shaq turned back to Na. “When did you last eat?”
Na hesitated, shame creeping into her expression. “Yesterday. A little rice.”
Shaq’s jaw tightened. He had been hungry before, back when his mother struggled to put food on the table. But he had never been this hungry. He had never been forced to go days without knowing where the next meal would come from.
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a thick stack of crisp $100 bills. Without counting, he pressed it into Na’s trembling hands. “Take this. Get food, get water, get whatever you need.”
Na stared at the money, her fingers tightening around it like it might disappear. She tried to speak, but her voice cracked. This was too much. Shaq shook his head. “It’s not enough, but it’s a start.”
Tears welled in her eyes. She covered her mouth, overwhelmed. The bystanders murmured louder now, some watched in awe while others scoffed. A middle-aged man in a faded green polo shirt shook his head. “Throwing money won’t fix her life.”
A woman in a bright orange headscarf nodded in agreement. “She needs more than cash. What happens when it runs out?”
Shaq heard them, and deep down, he knew they were right. He wasn’t here to drop a few bills and walk away. If he was going to help, he was going to really help.
He turned to David. “Find a hotel. The best one nearby. Get her and the kid a room.”
David blinked. “Shaq, you’re serious about this?”
Shaq gave him a look. David sighed. “Okay, okay. I’ll handle it.”
As David stepped aside to make the call, Shaq turned back to Na. “Come with me. We’ll get you and Oena a place to stay. You can’t be on the streets anymore.”
Na hesitated, unsure how to behave in a situation like this. But then she looked into Shaq’s eyes, and there was no pity, no judgment, just kindness. Slowly, she nodded.
15 minutes later, they were seated in a small, family-run restaurant tucked between two busy streets. The walls were faded, the ceiling fan spun lazily, but the smell of sizzling meat and fresh bread filled the air. Na sat stiffly, unsure how to behave in a restaurant she had never dreamed of entering.
Shaq, despite his massive size, seemed at ease. A waitress approached, eyes widening when she recognized him. “You… your Shaq,” she said, still flustered.
Shaq smiled. “Yeah, but right now, I’m just a guy ordering food for my friend.”
The waitress nodded quickly, still flustered. “What would you like?”
Shaq turned to Na. “Anything you want.”
Na hesitated, glancing at the menu like it was written in a foreign language. Shaq chuckled. “Okay, we’ll make it easy. Jolof rice, suya, plantains, and water. Lots of water.”
The waitress hurried off, and Shaq turned back to Na. “When did you last eat?”
Na hesitated, shame creeping into her expression. “Yesterday. A little rice.”
Shaq’s jaw tightened. He had been hungry before, back when his mother struggled to put food on the table. But he had never been this hungry. He had never been forced to go days without knowing where the next meal would come from.
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a thick stack of crisp $100 bills. Without counting, he pressed it into Na’s trembling hands. “Take this. Get food, get water, get whatever you need.”
Na stared at the money, her fingers tightening around it like it might disappear. She tried to speak, but her voice cracked. This was too much. Shaq shook his head. “It’s not enough, but it’s a start.”
Tears welled in her eyes. She covered her mouth, overwhelmed. The bystanders murmured louder now, some watched in awe while others scoffed. A middle-aged man in a faded green polo shirt shook his head. “Throwing money won’t fix her life.”
A woman in a bright orange headscarf nodded in agreement. “She needs more than cash. What happens when it runs out?”
Shaq heard them, and deep down, he knew they were right. He wasn’t here to drop a few bills and walk away. If he was going to help, he was going to really help.
He turned to David. “Find a hotel. The best one nearby. Get her and the kid a room.”
David blinked. “Shaq, you’re serious about this?”
Shaq gave him a look. David sighed. “Okay, okay. I’ll handle it.”
As David stepped aside to make the call, Shaq turned back to Na. “Come with me. We’ll get you and Oena a place to stay. You can’t be on the streets anymore.”
Na hesitated, unsure how to behave in a situation like this. But then she looked into Shaq’s eyes, and there was no pity, no judgment, just kindness. Slowly, she nodded.
15 minutes later, they were seated in a small, family-run restaurant tucked between two busy streets. The walls were faded, the ceiling fan spun lazily, but the smell of sizzling meat and fresh bread filled the air. Na sat stiffly, unsure how to behave in a restaurant she had never dreamed of entering.
Shaq, despite his massive size, seemed at ease. A waitress approached, eyes widening when she recognized him. “You… your Shaq,” she said, still flustered.
Shaq smiled. “Yeah, but right now, I’m just a guy ordering food for my friend.”
The waitress nodded quickly, still flustered. “What would you like?”
Shaq turned to Na. “Anything you want.”
Na hesitated, glancing at the menu like it was written in a foreign language. Shaq chuckled. “Okay, we’ll make it easy. Jolof rice, suya, plantains, and water. Lots of water.”
The waitress hurried off, and Shaq turned back to Na. “When did you last eat?”
Na hesitated, shame creeping into her expression. “Yesterday. A little rice.”
Shaq’s jaw tightened. He had been hungry before, back when his mother struggled to put food on the table. But
