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| Source: ilo.org |
I have not known peace. I
have had to struggle to make things work and go through the little years I've lived
in one piece. My mother died trying to give birth to me and my father raised me
all by himself till I was seven. Then he got sick (cancer of something, the
term is too complicated for me to understand or remember.) On his death bed, he
handed me over to his younger sister, Aunty Neme, who I've only met once all my
life with the words,' Adesua my pride, I'm going to rest now and your aunty
will take care of you. She loves you as much as I do and she's your family
too.' Ever since then, aunty has been using me to service her customers with
the words,' you have to do what you have to do to survive. We must all survive
through any means. You know I love you'. Now, three years after my father's
death, I'm still in the hell he enrolled me in when he died. Is this love? Aunty,
love me, love me enough to protect me from these men every night; All I ask for
is...love.
