And I in my growing have seen sadness that engulf this society, people who eat what they see not what they want. And where ambition for education is great but in these streets you get a quarter of it, a place where people live one day at time and setting goal is incomprehensible.
These are the defiled corners that the government does not want to see or clean, and there I eye little gospel that empowers me and make ‘me the streets’, igniting a forceful desire to conquer all. The tragedy is half of ‘em people seek for pity, from global developed nation instead of focusing their energy and effort on local approaches…and rich mind, so many days we sit waiting for solution from the West.
Minor earthquake around aren’t an issue. Food and water contamination ailment is a norm in this society. These are the menace in ghetto we have decided to under look in an effort to live one single day. They are little things that endanger our lives, but are of our lesser concern.
Then there is the passion, the desire to survive that make this street life lively. In ‘em street we enjoy ourselves black and white like with Cheap Street liquors called Busaa or Chang’aa that can cause blindness relaxed in uncensored casinos where even under -twelve can afford little entertainment, every day, oh sweet me I love this.
Our worst fear is not to die but the falling of each dawn for that come with extra challenges but we move on. Every evening, small children selling nuts or food stuff to reinforce their parent’s income, or old women who beat every dawn, to make it to Marikiti Market, people who think little about themselves have selfless hearts. In this Community where ‘child labor’ definition conflicts UN definition, every child grows up with responsibility. This is glory, the glory.
The, street that one kilogram of sugar is subdivided to one thousand measures or quantities of survival that condones, the small man pocket, are lovely street, simple and funny to radical, literate millionaire of Runda, and strangely fierce to diplomat of West. And Graduates from our unregistered 10 by 10 rooms’ colleges are finding themselves victims of career assault in Al-shabaab owned companies…and Indian run, business. some earn their honor in this streets. Who knows, the future could be brighter.
Anyway we also have victories… and that I call the street glory. There I set my dream to change what I can. The gospel, the passion, and the glory I eye in the streets, my search trial to picture what make me a man, and a conqueror is one single moment that changed my life..
Oh! God of all Creation, bless this our land and Nation…the streets.
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