The Story of a Street Child

I am a child like any other. I live on the street often dangerous, harsh and stinking.

My home is the unfriendly, violent street and my integrated name is the 'street child'. The world is my street and the street is my world.

I was born to manifest the gifts and talents within me. I would like to grow up like the other child surrounded by the natural need of love and care.

My battle with fate seems unending and the street keeps militating against my noble destiny while I strive to survive along with despairing others.

Each day I try to make the street my abode but, on the street, I am so despised, harshly preserved by the weather, panic-stricken by sicknesses, ailments and illness.

On the street I am scorned, blamed, used and abused. Except those who share my destiny every other person turns away.

When my energy is needed, I am momentarily a human 'donkey' perhaps a 'beast of burden' on the street.

Who is looking at my face to see my brokenness?

Who is looking at my dirty, tattered and rugged wear?

Who is looking at my cracked feet?

Who is looking at my open infectious smelling wounds?

I am wounded and hurt time and time again and very few care.

I am unjustly treated by the people for whose reason I carry a baby and a pan to labour.

My little earnings have become means of survival for family. When I feel annoyed with those who owe me livelihood, I am overwhelmed by pity on their helplessness, their hunger, their daily toil for very little.

I am consistently asking myself;

How do I understand my street world? Where did I go wrong? What are my misdeeds? Why am I on the street? Who is responsible? Would anyone help?

Keep quiet street child! Keep quiet kayayo! Keep quiet 'beast of burden' on the street!

Who cares?

Please remember that I am a child like any other.