Category Archives: the world isn’t fair

Murder? Can’t Be

Marcel woke up from his drunken stupor, his muscles worn of fatigue, he stretched his every joint making such weird crackle. Pushing his blanket aside he struggled to his feet, stretched his hands and yawned releasing a nasty smell of yesterday’s rum. The sun was already up and the rays struck through his bedroom window creating an ambience he never really seemed to enjoy, rubbing his eyes he walked to the washrooms. He lowered his head into the sink letting water flow through his hair. He never cared to use the face towel maybe after pangs of hunger struck so painfully he couldn’t ignore them. He made his way to the kitchen, water still dripping from his hair making his back wet.

Even in his most weary state he knew his kitchen door is always locked, he held the knob and thrust the key into the keyhole but before he could initiate any motion with the key in the lock the door opened. Normally, this would be a big reason to worry but since yesterday was a day they had spent celebrating her son’s birthday his kitchen had got accessed by all who cared to step in there and so this was expected anyway. He lit the cooker and placed some water to boil, he opened a freezer from where he expected to pick a packet of milk but what greeted his eyes was quite fictitious if not frightening. In his freezer laid a frozen body of a boy they had spent the better part of the night searching for. Apparently Jose had opted to hide in the freezer knowing that none of the kids would find him and he will be the winner of hide and seek game they were playing after enjoying meals that were served at the party. However his winning plan proved torturous when his whole body became numb, maimed by freezing cold within his hiding hole. He might have tried to open the freezer but he couldn’t unlock it while inside and that only left him with a single option- to look death in its eye and maybe embrace it.

The police cells were cold and dirty, they reeked of urine and piss. At the corner of this cell where he was, a bucket filled with piss and urine was stored and who knows it maybe his turn to empty it. From the very day he got here he has got more reasons to dread it than he had anticipated. You can’t imagine how fellow offenders beat him up for killing a child. He had become a criminal of the highest cadre without even knowing it. His whole body ached from uncalled for beatings both from the police and the fellow criminals but that pain was nothing compared to what he was to go through.

Murder? Can't Be

He was still using every thread his mind could hold to knit his niche in this world he had been forced to live in when the officer came to the window and shouted his name.

‘Marcel Kwong’ he shouted. But when nobody answered all eyes roved on him, partially because he was the only freshman. He neither moved nor talked.

The officer flashed him a bilious look before shouting his name again, almost insanely. He awoke from his lost state of mind and answered ‘yes Afande’. That earned him some ‘knee therapy’ after which he was frog-matched to the visitors’ room. When he saw Jose’s father he went to his knee and swore, ‘I didn’t kill your son’. he looked at Marcel in the eye and for a moment Marcel thought he didn’t hear him but when he spoke he spat venom,

‘I wish you accept my solemn gift, I will make this earth a furnace for you even if it will cost the last drop of my blood’ he paused and then ‘I will kill you, just like I killed your wife’

and then he left, leaving him being ripped apart by the venom he had spat on him. What a lie he had lived, Matt was his best friend or so he thought but now this revelation opened his eyes, he wasn’t a friend anymore but a villain the world was delaying to deport.

 

 

 

 

 

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The World Isn’t Fair

The world isnt fairWhen born she named me George

But that isn’t how I am known

Growing up they called me Agak

Living up to date is quite a luck

She looked at me in the eyes

Her palms as cold as ice

And as if she saw the end of time

She said to me; Son

The world isn’t fair

You’ve got to Fight for your fair share

The meaning was hard to unravel

Not knowing how close she had to travel

Before she finally bit the gravel

She said to me; Son

The world isn’t fair

You’ve got to Fight for your fair share

The eighth minute she died

Leaving me asking why

Had they taken all I had?

The world isn’t fair

You’ve got to Fight for your fair share

I love you mum with every breath

And it’s a shame my treasure they take

I pray you get the key to heaven’s gate

That you may get the reward for the life you gave.

To you the world was never fair

It gave you sorrows much more than your fair share

Losing every tear

Confirming all my fear

For a destination not so near

But what she said I still hear

Son

The world isn’t fair

You’ve got to Fight for your fair share

I remember being in the streets

The thought of that make me sick

With wounds too deep to heal

The touch of death I still feel

In the streets where we only had one use of water- drinking no bathing or laundry

In the streets where we had to fight with pig owners every morning over leftovers from hotel trash bins

In the streets where we wrapped ourselves in greasy sacks and slept in the open rain and cold being treats we couldn’t afford to miss

In the streets where guns and gangs ruled you can’t really imagine how many friends I lost to the shoot to kill policy

In the streets where no woman could love us but we still got love bites from bedbugs that had chosen to keep us company in these trying moments. I still wonder why we were bitten by bedbugs when we neither had beds nor bags

In the streets where I faced tough decisions, I remember when Mswahili showed me a sum of Sh.6000 and begged me to join his gang, were it not for the values you taught me I could have fallen for that and maybe only my skull could be remaining in my grave

I remember nights when I went without food but in all this aridity your words echoed in my ears telling me that tomorrow will be better

In all this aridity I found friends who really cared for me. I still remember soldier, the guy who used to feed me when I was still a freshman in the University of Streets Fanana Campus

I remember how everything changed when he was robbed by mswahili led gang

That morning he called me, we sat on a heap of plastic bottles and he told, his voice is still fresh in my mind; hapa itabidi umeanza kusaka ndiyo nikiibiwa ama polisi wakinishika usilale njaa

The next day was a big day in my life; it was the day I began……

Looking for meaning

Looking for life

Looking for a place where I could call home

Street is my life, street is my life

 

I thought my life could be wonderful

I thought my life could be so beautiful

But it brings me so low

Mamaaaaa

 

he dressed me in a greasy old stinking jacket and taught me how to carry a big sack on my back as we scavenged for valuables in dumpsites. That day was my graduation day and the greasy jacket, torn cap were my graduation attire and Soldier was my lecturer. This being the first graduation in my life.

I remember Omondi Ndogo he was the one who gave me the job of washing plates at Mama Mandela hotel. He got shot and died at underson estate.

My experience in streets taught me that sometimes the only thing you have is a pair of hands. These very same hands that I stuck in filth at dump sites, these very same hands that now enjoys racing on my laptop’s keyboard I won’t hesitate to stick in mud if that is all life needs of me

The world isn’t fair

You’ve got to Fight for your fair share

And now to all my friends

Those who hustle for their daily bread

Go for the best nothing less

For

The world isn’t fair

You’ve got to Fight for your fair share

We’ll have to part it’s quite a shame

But who am I to take the blame

When all of you were part of the game

Let’s meet there when we make it to the heaven’s gate
For The world isn’t fair

You’ve got to Fight for your fair share

-George Agak.