Melancholy...

Chapter 7.

Song I listened to whiles writing and editing this chapter : Revolution Sound by Kwesi Arthur. Try reading whiles listening to this song. It hits different I promise.
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Moving my head a little to the right,I sat straighter as Sister Owusuwaa kept my hair in some bantu knots.I actually wanted to do it yesterday,but I came back home from hawking on the streets so tired that I slept immediately after I took my bath.I knew I had to do it today,as my hair had started to itch really bad.Sister Owusuwaa was the one who usually did my hair.I had wanted to chop off all my hair as keeping it clean and healthy was a very difficult and time-consuming job,but Sister Owusuwaa begged me not to chop it off,promising to be responsible for its upkeep.

I kept my eyes on Mia as she tried to climb the couch in the corner of the shop. She was acting very stubborn today and I was just tired of screaming on top of my voice.I knew better than to take her home to Crystal because that girl would let her do what she wanted and she would end up hurting herself. Mia let out a cry as she tried to climb the couch and with one loud yell from my mother, she sat down quietly on the floor and began to count the lines on the carpet.

Sighing in relieve, I began to let my mind wonder as I hummed softly to a song I had just composed in my head.It was around 6:30 pm,and the slum was filled with all sorts of people from different works of life.However,those who interested me the most were the boys who walked in front of th shop occasionally in groups,and sometimes alone. Dressed shabbily,they made a lot of noise as they spoke in pidgin English.

When we first moved here,I found it very difficult to look or even speak to these boys as they were so different from the decently dressed boys I usually interacted with back in school.As time went on,I found out that they were very cool people in spite of how they dressed but even now, I did not interact with most of them much. Being someone who was very close to boys back in the days, it kind of killed my spirit as I disliked being friends with girls.

I did not speak to most of them because how they acted and the kind of people they walked with made them very dangerous persons. It was common for people to be robbed,abused,raped,and sometimes even killed here in the slums. From what I had heard from various mouths,these boys(and rarely,girls) did not commit these crimes on their own but gave information about people on whom these crimes were going to be commited to the persons who were going to commit it. It was sad to see them doing things like these just so they could eat at the end of the day as most of them were as old as me or even younger.

I had personally had some conversations with boys who were into things like drug dealing,frauding,scamming and so on and a large number of them did not actually do this willingly. At such a young age, they were the bread winners of their familes and it was almost impossible to get a job in the country, so just so that they didn't go to bed on empty stomachs, they had to do something even if it meant risking their lives. Though I was not in support of it, I kind of understood them as I had been tempted to be involved in these things when I first came here. It was my mother's strict upbringing, her countless pieces of advice and my strong faith in God that deterred me from involving myself in such acts.

I knew some boys who worked as street hawkers, bus conductors, street porters and so much more to earn some income.The sad thing was that, they ended up joining the boys who did all sorts of illegal things to earn income. From my analysis,I got to understand that this was because making money the illegal way was faster and most people did not have that patience to wait.

Most of us as young people are taking the wrong path in life but no one seems to care.When elections are close, our leaders come down and talk to us, they would tell us that they will provide jobs and make the slum a better place, but after voting them into power we see nothing.When the next election is due, they come here again, fill a few potholes with sand and try to convince us to vote for them. And that's how things were here.Life was so hard and it baffled me how people had a roof over their heads and could eat three times a day and still complained about life.

Life in the slum had thought me not to take anything for granted and be appreciative of every single thing.It was hard to stay positive when life was trying so hard to bring you down. Most people here had already given up on life and were just living...just living because they had no choice but to live. Honestly, it was difficult to imagine living a life where we did not need to wonder where our next meal was going to come from, it was difficult to imagine a future where we would have a nice roof over our heads and be genuinely happy,but we had to keep it positive and keep striving, because I mean, it is not easy,

But God's got us.

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Hi loves. I hope you like this chapter. Please feel free to point out all mistakes. Thank you for your time.

Xoxo,
        Arianna.