Boys Living In Africa
I was just 5years old when I started using pencils at nursery school. I collected a new pencil from my dad every day, but one day when I was about going to school my dad called me and warned me “you are left with 6 pencils for the academic year and you will have to use them for the whole year.” You all know what a kid does to such warning. I didn’t even worry a little, I had in mind that there are still 6, so I counted in my mind 1, 2, 3, …,6, then said to myself 6 days. I took the pencil for that day and left to school.
The sixth day reached quicker than I expected and I collected the last pencil. When I went to school I told my teacher that this is my last pencil for the academic year, so she told me “you better keep it well” that phrase sounded in my head the whole morning until noon when we usually close. I still had my pencil. On my way back home I and my Friends usually throw our pencils to each other, the name we called I can’t remember. I can just remember that I ended up misplacing my pencil.When I got home I was scared to tell anybody even my elder brother. I finally confined my trust and told my elder cousin who was taking care of me that I just lost my last pencil and he should help me to get one. Instead he just smiled and told me this convincing words “boy daddy is your father and no matter what you have done it is always okay to go back to him.” These words gave me confidence and so when my dad came back from work at about 3pm I quickly rushed and greeted him then informed him that I had lost my pencil.
Immediately he gave me a wild smile and asked me to wait let him in the pallor. I was so happy and did not even understand what was coming my way. My dad was a soldier. When he came out of his room he had his military belt in his right hand, then I understood and before I could make a step he held me on my shoulder with his left hand and got me well beaten until about 6pm when my mum returned from the market.
From that day I waited when everybody has left the classroom before I go out. When everybody had gone I stayed back and picked up the forgotten pencils of my classmates and returned home keeping them. And for the rest of the academic year my dad didn’t bother about pencils again.
That was just Nursery school so you can imagine what the boy went through until he got to the university. In the university he lost his dad, this demoralized him to the extend he stopped school and depends on his aunties for feeding. His supposed mother wasn’t his real mother and before he finished high school his dad had gotten another woman into the house.
In other not to go into further details, I want the world to know that he has not stopped hoping and is having in mind to restart school, but he is struggling with his little knowledge to start something up for himself. I am not dead yet and if you have any Ideas and opportunities comment on this post. Thanks
Life story
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