Childhood experiences stay with us all our lives even the bad ones that we underwent trying to make it in life. Right now, I am seated in my office that is well-furnished with huge mahogany table and a nice comfortable swinging chair. When I try look back at what I have been through, I thank God for enabling me to reach this far as I enjoy a luxury life. I have two kids and a beautiful wife who is always the talk of the town to both the rich and the poor. Her beauty dazzles everyone, and I must admit that am very proud to have her. Anyway, that is the present and I am not here to narrate to you my current lifestyle but my past and what I have been through.
I thought I was the luckiest kid when I was growing up since I had everything at my disposal. Any kind of a toy that a kid would admire to own, I had. Throughout my kindergarten up to class four, I was always chauffeured to school since my father was very rich and a prominent businessman in the entire town hood where we resided. Whenever his name was mentioned anywhere, folks would try to outshine each other describing the number of businesses that he owned and the latest car that he was driving. In school, I was a celebrity and kids would often end up in fights claiming to be my closest friend and that was the bit that I must say that I enjoyed to see them fight for my attention. Some teachers were afraid of me, and whenever I committed a mistake, they would not punish me; instead they would just give a warning. This was all because of my father’s wealth, and they would not dare put a finger on me lest my father came after them.
All this changed the moment I received the tear-jerking news that my parent had been involved in a car accident. I was playing in my room when our house help came and announced the terrifying news that my parents were no more. At first, I thought it was a bad joke and told him off and never to wish my parents a bad luck. I finally came to accept the damned truth when people started flocking into our compound. Among them, was my uncle Ben, who came and explained to me the whole situation. I could feel hot tears flowing freely down my cheeks as my uncle tried to comfort me saying that everything will be fine.
During the funeral, several relatives made pledges how they would make sure that I still received the best life since my father had departed. By then, I was still a kid who did not understand that life is full of disappointments and human beings never live by their words. I was taken to Uncle Ben’s house and all I can recall is that I lived there for only one month that is when I came know the other side of my aunt. I became the maid of the house and I did all house chores. I would be forced to wake up as early as 3 o’clock and start cleaning the house while my cousins were comfortably slumbering. After that, I would do the laundry and then prepare breakfast for the family. By the time I went to school, I was very much tired that I hardly concentrated in class. My teacher noticed this weird habit of dozing off in class and tried to ask me what was wrong, but I told her nothing.
I dropped in my studies and when I tried to confront my uncle, he yelled at me and threatened to kick me out of his house. Unable to take it anymore, I ran off to the streets. Street life was not as easy as I had imagined since clean food was a luxury and we had had to depend on left overs from dustbins. My worst fears were street bullies who would give anyone a sound beating should you cross their path. An experience that I wouldn’t forget is when one of them started a fight with me. They ganged up and gave me thorough beating that left me unconscious for two days. When I woke up I was in a hospital. When I recovered, I went back to the streets since I had nowhere to go. I continued with my newly adopted life until a friend came with a suggestion that we should try stealing. Left with no option and lost hope, I became a thief where we stole side mirrors from cars in parking lots. At first, we were lucky and got away with it.
On the second encounter, we were cornered by the police who were on an evening patrol after we had vandalized several vehicles. Everyone panicked and took off in different direction as the police pursued us. Two of my friends were shot as they tried to run but I was lucky since the police never took my direction. Only two of us survived while other two were killed. That was my turning point as I started keeping off the streets. The only place that I could find peace was at the church compound where on most occasions I volunteered to help in cleaning in exchange of food. One day the parish priest invited me to his house and asked why I chose to live on streets. I explained to him everything that had happened and he offered to help. I was provided a home in the parish and I was taken back to school. In school I put in much effort since that was my only hope in life. Luckily I excelled in my studies and joined the university to study law. Later on I graduated with first class honors and the church was very much proud since they were behind my success.
I later got employed at a law firm and after five years of success, I opened my firm which at the present is very successful. I thank the parish priest so much and we regularly meet since he is part of my family now. As for my uncle, we have never met and to me, it’s good since he is one last person that I would want to meet.