THE ROAD I HAVE TRADED

Story of my life, the troubles of growing up in a broken home and the challenges that come with it make survival hard but whats there to do except hang on and fight!?

CHAPTER 1

Its 29 years down the road, I have two beautiful children, not that I am closing the chapter. If you asked me how I got here, I most definitely wouldn’t have a straight answer for you. These years have been a pain, a dedication, a fight, and a joy of my life. To appreciate the challenges of growing in poverty, one must have firsthand experienced the hustles, or should listen carefully to one who has gone through the same. It is one of the toughest diseases the world must join hands to fight, I can be excused if I said it’s the 7^th killer disease, adding one more on the 6 we have been told.

I don’t know how I ended up here, but I was born to a soldier, by a house wife. My father was rarely home, so my mother had to cover up for him in her daily tasks, taking her role as a mother, and father well. she gave us the discipline we must be equipped with to enter a world of confusion, she tried to take my siblings to school, clothe, feed, and love us. It was quite a job for her, and sometimes I remember finding her shading tears in her bedroom. My mother had to be so creative to make the home stand, she engaged in any kind of trade that she believed would bring an additional coin to our earnings. She tried out burning charcoal, selling food stuff at the railway station, some of which we had to feed on the left overs that would have not been sold out. While she did all this, my father was this irregular visitor, who came and left in a short while, as his duty and second home constantly called louder than any of our voices.

Our mother, in her search for a future for her children, got entangled in selling marijuana, a herb that was grown in the middle of the forest where she usually went to cut logs for burning charcoal. The risky deal about this idea was not the illegal herb, but the fact that we had to steal it from the gardens we had no idea who owned them. This brought home customers who if one wasn’t careful with, could cause more harm than we already had. Fact being I was the baby at home, I hadn’t reached the school going age, or maybe, my mother couldn’t afford to keep all of us in school, so, I was left at home while everyone else went to school, garden, or find money.

Every human has a breaking point, my mother had been holding for quite too long, and she had finally convinced herself it was not worth staying in my father’s house, with no help at all. It was time to leave, and these children had to be distributed like property among the relatives who would be kind enough to take them on. While the rest left with my mother, I was to be taken to my fathers second house, where I believe my mother felt I will be better off.

We were not so lucky to find my father home, and so, I believe my mother thought it wise to take me to my paternal uncle, who she hoped would later get to take me to my father when he returned, rather than leaving me with my step mother. And so, without warning, my mother, the only human being I totally had confidence and trust in, the golden lady I cherished, my hero left me in a foreign strange house. I was a child filled with fear and confusion, I felt lost deep down my heart. I was from a village, where life was totally different from what I had been thrown into. I had no familiar face to comfort me, it was all blue. What was I to do! I had no idea, but survive I was going to, no matter how I had to, after all, my father was coming to pick me up and no one was going to hurt me.

As days and nights went by, my father came and left as he pleased in my uncle’s home. He never mentioned taking me away with him. I was confused the more. He even didn’t show much interest in me, all we had was the greeting exchange and it was over. Children are always hopeful than you can imagine, so I was sure the next visit would see me going with my father. So, the days became weeks. The weeks months and months became years. I had not lost my hope, after all my father was the greatest man this world has ever had. The picture I had painted in my heart was full of love, my father was the saint holiness can ever have, and for me, that man couldn’t hurt me, not for anything in this world. He would defend me because I was his daughter. All these dreams got shuttered one afternoon. I had my way of enjoying my father’s presence while he stayed. Every time my turn for exchanging greetings passed, I usually went to the kitchen, there was a window that faced direct into the sitting room, and there I would open just a little bit of the curtain and watch my father as he went about his visit with his brother. I always watched them chat, I sometimes enjoyed with them as they conversed, other times I never really got to understand what they were talking about. Some days it would be a happy visit, others it went bitter, and they had a disagreement. I would be sad for my father, I couldn’t believe my uncle was making him upset, that wasn’t fair.

As was my way of spending time at the window watching my father, even on this day I was doing the same when an argument broke out. It was about me, I got to understand. My uncle had wanted my father to take me away with him but my father declined. My uncle wouldn’t take no for an answer and he told my father I was his responsibility and he had to take care of me, but my father, in a lot of anger, told my uncle he wasn’t taking me anywhere because he didn’t ask him to keep me at his house. He also added I wasn’t his child. While I listened to all this, I can’t lie to you I was really understanding much of this exchange but I am sure I understood that my father was never going to take me with him some day as I had believed. I felt he didn’t want me and I understood I was going to have to stay with my uncle all my life. And so that day, my uncle asked my father never to think about taking me away, and that I had become my uncle’s responsibility from then.

CHAPTER 2. MY NEW HOME.

In my new home, I was somehow lost, both physically and emotionally. I felt I didn’t fit-in in this new life I was given. Everything was so different from the ones I was used to. These children spoke both English and the local language , they had nice clothes, they knew how to dance and knew exactly what to say and do at all times, yet, they also seemed not to like me that much. While I on the other hand couldn’t speak English, my clothes were tone, the food made my stomach ache. Everything had become complicated. All these differences made them tease and make fun of me as I yearned for my mother to come and take me away.

My auntie, their mother was a very good and kind lady who welcomed me with open arms. She tried her best to make me feel comfortable, she made sure to check on me every morning before she set off to work. She was so beautiful and always smart and I really admired her and her clothes. She tried buying me clothes but usually brought a smaller size than my body weight, or say my stomach width. My stomach was worm infested and it was protruding. The beautiful dresses were always taken back because they couldn’t go through my tummy.I was left to wear home made clothes which my oldest cousins used to make for me. My uncle had bought sewing machines for two of the older girls at home, and they were learning to sew, so they were to make my clothes. 

Since I never had good clothes, the children felt I was an embarrassment and didn’t want to move with me. When Sundays came and we had to go to church as a family, I was not allowed to move with the rest. I was usually asked to move either a distance behind or in front of the rest. My cousins said I was never smart no matter what I put on. They also constantly told me I looked like and old woman, and so, they couldn’t accept being seen with me. I was asked to always make sure people don’t notice I was moving with them.

While home, I was never encouraged when I tried out anything. When the music played and I tried to dance, I was always immediately embarrassed with questions of “what do you think you are doing?” or simply asked me to move and give room to my cousin “who knows how to dance" .  These insults kept coming with almost everything I would try out. All reference went to my cousin and to me, he was able to do everything and I could do none. At such an early age, my self esteem was trampled on and I was left with none. It wasn’t just the children of the home that frightened me, but my uncle too.

It just didn’t start well. I wasn’t sure it would end well, yet I was willing to fight back and keep going. Sometimes my cousins beat me up, or intentionally started a fight because they were sure I would lose or had no where to report but rather sat myself under a table and cried. Where was I supposed to report all this? to my older cousins who preferred their brothers to me? my uncle who I was frightened of? or my auntie who came home late in the evening? I knew she would listen to me, but at the end of the day, I would just be glad she had returned and I would decide to just enjoy the protection I received in her presence. Under all this pressure, I decided not to let myself be bullied. I knew I had to somehow fight back and either lose or win, but not to let them step on me and walk away like nothing had happened.

 I pulled my sleeves up and got ready for battle. It was going to be them against me, and I was determined to win. I was going to go down fighting with whoever dared me.

Author's Note

This is my life, and its my first attempt at writing longer stories. I know my grammar and punctuating are not good and i must have a lot of error here. I will really appreciate your feedback and direction.

Reviews

[dead letter office]

What a difficult childhood, at least in the end your uncle took you in.

Suggestions: Write each sentence like its a headline to strip out the unessential. Read it aloud, good bones are here. Rewrite it with literary devices, try writing it from scratch again as a poem, etc. U of Iowa has a very good MOOC on NovoEd for writers called "Moving the Margins" until mid September. You'll learn about dialog, setting, voice revision, etc. and its FREE too.

[Maria20]

Thank you for this feedback. Its actually continuing but, i am still learning how to add chapters . I will learn!
I appreciate it.

[Chris]

We appreciate stories of courage and personal growth in the face of ALL adversity. You have the language patterns and idioms down fairly well. Practice will make you better. Continue the story(ies).