The fruits and juice in the lunch pack.
The good luck pat at the back.
Food will be served by the time you get back.
What do you want when am coming back?
These and many more my childhood lack.
All i had were imaginations and dreams most i had on my way back from the streams.
The huge pots i had to fill knowing the pain i will feel should any fall to my feet.
Yes! The broken pieces from the clay pots, will be a resemblance of yet another dream shattered.
Each morning the cock crows and sends echoes of pain down my weak body as though nature had set an alarm to remind me of the days trouble ahead.
The nights were the times my heart took, to send all the tears i dare not show to my eyes down my cheeks.
Tears as cold as ice.
Deep inside me i was broken, but there was more than enough energy on the outside to get my little token.
Yes! That plate of gari and palm oil, was how much they priced my toil. I had grown so accustomed to that meal, i could only imagine what other meals will taste like.
There was nothing like rest or allowing my stomach some extra time to complete the punishment of digestion. I had to quickly move back to position on the waiting instruction of my commander, to turn the earth which i was loosening with the drops of my sweat as they hit the earth.
Every throw of the hoe into the ground came with that single wish of when at all i will be asked to push a knife into my own belly.
Yes! I will quickly do so, with the kind of diligence i have applied to all commands.
It will be the first and last time i get to afford a smile in my own home.
Soon night will fall and i will lay my head, my mind will ponder and my heart tremble.
My eyes will soak in tears and my life in sorrow as i patiently wait for the sun to rise and dry my tears!
