Monday, 29 December 2014

SAVE OUR WORLD (Diary Of A Slum Kid) by Zaynab Yahaya


      Diary Of A Slum Kid:
I woke up dreary and swollen-eyed. Last night was pure hell, the old man keeping me awake all night to raise his member as soon as it gets flaccid, hitting me hard when I spit out his semen. I nearly choke as I recall the event, cursing softly as I swung my feet down the mattress, sputtering curses around my legs hit rodents who scuttled away from their hiding places around my dingy apartment.
      
Blasted rats got no respect for who pays the bills no more, I thought bitterly as I drew my scruffy worn-out coat around my body in a useless attempt to drive out the cold coming from my little window. Perhaps, working the streets today would give me enough dough to be able to afford a nice sweater for the vicious harmattan. Bleary-eyed, i walked to the window to watched the busy street and the Abuja-keffi expressway despondently. People bustled about, going to make a living. Little kids hawked wares, traders swept their stores, newspaper vendors advertised headlines….i always wondered why people wasted so much time and money buying papers that didn't give any attention to studs that mattered-like me, like those kids out there who are hawking for their parents to feed, like the rest of us lost souls at city rock.

City rock is a world on its own, the inhabitants are enigmas eluding the real world. Neon light, dark alleys, cigarette smoke-though there are time when I could swear there is something more than cigarette in the hands and pockets of both patrons and occupants, scantily clad bodies and raw cash exchanging gnarled hands. It is the nightmare of every parent for their child to see the interior of City Rock. Located on a federal expressway with flashing lights like a mall, not a whorehouse, the dingy building stands between honest-God buildings, transacting its business of whoring and what-not.

It is 9:00am in the morning. The building is still quiet, its inhabitants ranging from young girls to matured women are still asleep, probably recuperating from their sexcapedes of the previous night. But at night, with its flashing exterior lights and smoky interior, City Rock then lives to its full demand partying, whoring and drugging.
            I would not say I was forced here neither of us were. We are all just victims of circumstances-orphans or just poverty-stricken. I hear what they say about us, but I pray neither of them talkers ever fall into my position.
            At age 18, I should be in school, but I am here, selling sex and licking penises, worshipping every man’s naira notes just so my family can go to school. So they wouldn’t die of starvation. I don’t mind abandoning school, I have accepted my fate and in between paying our ‘madam’ and shipping money home, it doesn’t look like there’s a light at the end of my tunnel. Nobody minds. Nobody cares.

            Government? Oh, please. Like Michael Jackson said. They don’t really care about us. If we loiter their streets, they ship us off it………. But what happens to helping us out of our misery? What happens to saving our world?!!!   
http://www.wattpad.com/81998443-save-our-world-tis-hard-out-here

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