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The Street Kid

July 16, 2011

My thoughts are not a happy place

I try not to be in them too often but sometimes they are all I have

My only companion

Growing up where I did made me what I am today. Its not an excuse. Its fact

My hood was the slums; places which make razz look like British royalty.

Places where survival is the watchword.

As a little boy, a part of me wanted to go to school and try to make something out of my life.

I wanted to get out of the slums.

Another part of me always asked why should I want to go to school? Everything around me was against schooling. The people around me didn’t give a toss about schools.

My mates were running around chasing rabbits, stealing fowls and rolling tires around in carefree bliss. Why be burdened with school and its nags?

It was always a losing battle. Conditions around me answered those questions.

No sandals (slippers), books, tuition fee –no matter how small it was-, how could I go to school?

It was that easy an answer. I joined my mates

Whenever I passed by your school to buy cigarettes n stuff for my ‘area bros’, I always felt a little pang of envy and regret, but I consoled myself with the knowledge that I’d seen and done things which would’ve sent you into shock. I was a man. You were a boy.

As a young man, I was too set in my ways to think of a future that didn’t involve violence and/or ‘lawlessness’. I certainly wasn’t wise enough to see the path I was headed.

I was my own man and loving every moment of it.

While you were sneaking the latest Playboy and hiding it like a sin, Going in ‘deep cover’ to watch the latest Jesse Jane movie I was busy filling up her breasts and pumping my shaft into her centre of excellence.

My formative years on the street was over,

I was who I am now already at 15

It was time to polish the edges.

Teenage cultism? Fuck that. It’s child’s play! I was helping my Don of my hood clean his ‘tools’. I was the lookout boy to warn them in case the police showed up to bust them.

Home? For all intents and purposes, I lived at the ‘cartel’ (igbo-house)

I was the errand boy and always in possession of the weedy stuff.

My head (mind) was almost always filled with it.

By 17, I’d raped my first victim. She was a sweet little wench. The remorse was there, but it passed away. The others I raped only gave me pleasure.

By 19, I’d taken my 1st life. The fear was there too, but that also passed away

By 22, I was a moderately successful armed robber. Had a Golf 4 and a litany of hood bitches to choose from. Life was good

Two weeks after my 24th birthday, I went for a job. Just another job. I killed. Just another victim. I was caught

Now I’m awaiting a trial that will almost never come. Rotting at the bottom of this Police Station.

I know my fate, Death. The system while it protects white collar murderers like our leaders has got no love, for US.

Do I deserve to die? Yes. I certainly do

If I relived my life under the same conditions, without knowing my end, will I be a better person? A different person? Probably not.

The stronger ME would have made it out of the street. Maybe become a carpenter, a mechanic, or on the one-off, a university graduate.

The ME who stands in the middle would be an Agbero or Truckpusher.

The ‘ME’ is a robber. A thug. A brutish assassin. I was weak.

The Society/environment conditioned me for failure. I failed

The only thing that might have changed this outcome? Parent(s) who cared.

Yeah, I wish I had that….

***************

Thanks for readng. Many may feel that the parent shouldn’t shoulder the blame of ‘my’ outcome, my editor (self-proclaimed) @kblewin also feels so. Pls use the comment box to to air your view on what would have changed my outcome.

Lest I forget, Congratulations to @KevinwithanL on winning the Most Humourous Blog award. Heard he’s organising a ‘Celebration Party’ next weekend. Do check on him for real time update about it.

Oshee.!!

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18 Comments leave one →
  1. @shettoo permalink
    July 17, 2011 8:10 pm

    This is…..*sigh* deep. I believe as long as we are the ones answering the key questions of our lives, no one should else should be blamed for how it ends.

  2. July 18, 2011 8:28 am

    *sighs* where do I start from?
    I guess the ‘Me’ in this write-up was willing and ready to go to school if the parents had given him that little push, he was young, easily influenced by his environment, he was venerable. He wanted to go to school and make the best out of his life but where were the parents? Parents and teachers are responsible for the kind of person you become in future and when teachers are absent, the parents should have done everything within their reach but in this case, they never did. They left him to the ‘streets’ and he became a man of the streets.
    God Bless you bro! Nice write-up!

  3. July 18, 2011 11:30 am

    My first thoughts were ‘Not another long post’

    At the end, I was glad read it.

    Beautiful writing, it almost felt like you were telling a true story.

    @shettoo, you need to walk the streets and meet more people to understand how backgrounds, opportunities/or lack of opportunities,environments,etc make a huge difference in the outcome of people’s lives. ‘The Outliers’ by Malcolm Gladwell might change your perspective.

  4. July 18, 2011 11:37 am

    Nice.

  5. July 18, 2011 11:41 am

    True thots

  6. July 18, 2011 11:47 am

    Ha! Celebration party ke? Hian!
    Beautiful read bruv, very solemn and catchy..
    The importance of parental guidance, love and care cannot be overemphasized.
    Grande!

  7. Nna mehn! permalink
    July 18, 2011 12:09 pm

    *sigh* Er… Dis is fiction right?

  8. Nna mehn! permalink
    July 18, 2011 12:17 pm

    Could you pls post the link to KevinwithanL’s blog? Fenx

  9. pyiz permalink
    July 18, 2011 12:38 pm

    Very lovely write up.. Nice work.

  10. kulJoe permalink
    July 18, 2011 4:34 pm

    Catchy…almost forgot it was all fiction

  11. georgeenah permalink
    July 19, 2011 11:07 am

    This could very well be fiction but there’s someone whose life you just did a biography on.
    There are always too many things that could have been done;a push,a kind word,a listening ear,that loose N500 in ur pocket….too many people who could have chosen better paths if they had the littlest oppotunity.
    Very good post!

    • July 19, 2011 2:40 pm

      I know.. It’s was actually inspired by the direction someone I grew up with is actually heading

  12. Joanne permalink
    July 20, 2011 9:33 pm

    The society we’ve found ourselves in couldn’t for the life of it care if we end up wrongly! The influences from our various environments, whether immediate or not go a long way in shaping how we eventually end up.
    This is however not to say we don’t play a role in choosing where we’re headed eventually!

    Really touchy piece, love the flow. Well done

  13. July 30, 2011 10:39 am

    Wow.

    Glad I finally read this. So many times we feel ‘strong’ and ‘better’ than others just because of the opportunities we’ve had. We judge them for being weak. I always ask: IF you were never given a chance, wouldn’t you be like them? If you were born in Iran, wouldn’t you be a Muslim? If you were adopted by gay parents wouldn’t you be more tolerant of gays? If you never had a chance to go to school, where would you be today? If you were born in Sudan, wouldn’t you be a child soldier?

    But still, I believe life gives us chances to break away. Always. There must have been a way out. A small glimmer of hope. Maybe a friend that offered to pay his fees, or someone that offered to teach him a trade. If there wasn’t, then life is a cruel game whose ending is already rigged and we are all victims (or beneficiaries) of fate and circumstance. Surely, that is Godless world, for no God (certainly not the one I believe in) can be so cruel.

    Good post.

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