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I was visibly distressed as he looked at my face and burst into laughter. But I wasn’t angry for him alone. I was angry with the system and afraid for my self. It meant three years from now I or some of my friends could be like him.
“That’s really too bad; then why are we studying and wasting time here? We can as well learn a trade,” I protested.
“I don’t think you should do that, my friend. Our fates are not the same and it isn’t as if I’m finished. I still look for jobs but as they say, man must chop, you know?"
“I think you are right, but that doesn’t take away the betrayal of the youths by the government.”
“Presently, we’re helpless. Maybe God will remember our file one day. I have to go now."
I made to pay him but he stopped me.
“Please, keep your money, some other time,” he said.
“No, this is your business," I protested.
“Do keep it,” he insisted, “You‘ve already paid me through our discussion.”
“No, I should be thanking you for taking me on a session through humility.”
“I don’t think so, the lesson was mutual,” he said as he drove off.
“Thanks bro, see ya some other time and more luck!” I shouted after him.
“Bye, my young friend,” he shouted in return.
I looked at my watch and it was half past eleven. I still had thirty minutes, but I wasn’t keen on making the front row again. I’d had enough lessons for the day.
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I come alive when I write and the feeling that those few lines may impact positively on a soul unknown to me or even elicit a smile makes it a worthwhile endeavour.
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