Home

"That's the thing about this city it gave me the home I never have had. Rescued me from giving up and feeling sorry for myself. It made me look at each day with new eyes. With new energy and that maybe today can be better than yesterday".

"Is that so" Eric said. How can you call this the home you never had, Jude? You have a home and mother who loves you in her own way. What about those who do not even have anybody to love them or who do not have a home to go to at the end of the day. After everything, we only have the midnight sky as our roof, the hard ground as our soft lush bed, the mosquitoes to sing us a lullaby and the cold breeze to kiss us goodnight". There was a silence for quite some time while I pondered on what Eric had just said. Outside the rain was starting to fall and I knew that soon there would be a downpour. I watched as the rain fell on the window panes and a drop of rainfall rolled shyly to the bottom of the windowsill.

"Wow, Eric I never knew you were this poetic. Do you read Shakespeare or something?" I said to ease the tension that had built up. With that I earned a soft chuckle and soon we were both laughing our heads out. After we calmed down there was silence again and Eric spoke in a softer tone than I know him for. 

"These days the police are breathing down my back, waiting for me to make a small mistake for them to take me away and there would be nobody to fight for me. While you have your mother and grandparents who will always fight for you. This city have never been a home to me and would never be. It is just filled with crimes and broken dreams. You might not want to see it but this is the reality and it is not nice. In some way you are protected from the disease that roams this world and very innocent to the teeth that gnashes at you in every dark alley. This is a hard place. This is a hard life Jude, it has swept me like I am no more than soil to be trampled on". 

Eric and I have been best friends since when mother and I moved to the neighborhood. I first saw him in church, we were sitting opposite him. He was between two old ladies with a bored look etched deeply on his face. When I asked him later why he was there in church since he rarely went, he told me he had been running from the police and getting into the church was his only option. When Eric was a baby he was abandoned in an orphanage. He never knew his mother or father. When he was younger he always hoped that somebody would come for him. With that every night around the time he was found at the doorsteps of the orphanage, he would patiently wait for somebody to come back for him but sadly nobody ever did. There was no hope for a new family because he had a long list of naughty deeds that just hearing the rumors would make anybody cringe. However, when he turned eight years old somebody came for him, a woman who did not mind the stories and he accepted because he wanted to see the world outside the orphanage but the woman just wanted him to satisfy her needs and nothing else. It continued for two years till he ran away and he has been living in the streets since then. 

When I got home after the rain had susided, mum was sitting on our pink couch with a blue jean and bra on, staring at the wall with a creepy wide grin on her face. When I see her like this she is dreaming about dad when they were still together. The good times gone bad. That is why I prefer the streets to home, for it maybe called a home but it is devoid of all its homeliness. 

"Why are you staring at me like that" mum said. I snapped out of my thought and found mum on her feet staring at me with anger like I interrupted something. 

"You made him not to love me anymore you made him leave me. What have I ever done to you?" Mum screamed, by now she was getting hysterical pointing her hands at me and then beating them on the wall. "This is so unfair I loved him so much. Why did he leave me for that woman? What did he see in her that he did not see in me?" I stood rooted to a spot by the door as she went on and on till she slowly collapsed on the chair and started to cry like she had been holding it in for years. I slowly crouched to her side and held her hand while she cried her heart out. And I silently asked "When will this end mother? When? 

When I was younger my father left us, I was told he never did love mum and I. He had only married her for her money. My mother knew that but was so blinded by what she wanted to see and what she wanted to believe. She made excuses for all his misbehaviors towards her and she kept on forgiving him that when he finally left us to be with another woman. She was too broken to forgive herself. Too broken to pick up the pieces and repair herself. To avoid my grandparents we moved a lot because mum is like the prodigal son who would never go back home. When we moved, mum would become a new person, a saint. She would stop her drinking and drug taking that I feel like I got my mum back. During those days, it is our culture to visit a church. Mum would confess and repent of her sins and for a while, she would be so religious that I fear she would go to heaven. After a while the fervour would slowly quench and she would begin once again to drown herself in drugs and alcohol like her sanity depended on it and truthfully it did.

I headed to the bridge across the river to think and listen. It was beautiful and quiet there. I went there to give my heart a reason to be happy again. This place was my saving grace and I connected with its serenity in times like this. When I am here I listen. I listen to the car horns blarring in the distance, I listen to the frogs croaking to one another. I listen to the wind moving among the trees. And I felt a tear on my cheek, I did not even know that I have been crying. Eric was wrong I am not naive, I know it is dangerous on the streets. But is more dangerous in my house than the streets. When I was young I stayed with my grandparents and in school I was bullied for been smart and small. Somehow the news of mum been a drug addict spread though the school and I had both physical and cyber bullies. It was hard been there and I contemplated suicide very often because I was constantly remainded how imperfect my life was and felt ashamed. When mum came for me and I had to face her addiction and mood swings over and over again that I began to blame myself and I got depressed. However, when we moved here I discovered that life was not perfect and it was not meant to be. A lot of boys lived in the streets and survived each day. Boys like Eric, Musa the blind magician, Emmanuel the king of pickpocket and all the others. I realised if they could survive each day so can I. I told Eric this was like the home I never had because I was saved from the darkness. For to me this city gave a home.