Memories From The Past: Apart Two

Call me Reth.

I'm a skinny, ten-year-old kid from the slums of Kenya; my daily routine consists of waking up early in the morning and going to the welfare office, hoping to find something to eat, and most days, there's nothing. I was born into a family of twenty, living in a broken-down tent. My father is an alcoholic, and my mother is a drug addict, and all they are capable of is reproducing hungry kids.

Still, I'm not discouraged--the trash of wealthy people has plenty of goods I can sell, and stealing is another option. I have big dreams of going to school, but everything here costs money, and most people in the slums work until they die. I have witnessed death from hunger and drugs, and kids my age have a low life expectancy. We are born to die of starvation, and today, I have nothing to feed my stomach.

A storm of noises begins to settle in, and the water bottle in my hands can no longer ease my hunger, but today is not the day I die. A man wearing a pink suit called out to me while I was walking to the welfare office; his flashy car and attire screamed wealth. He carried a bag of snacks on his shoulders and flashed a big smile. He then began to call out to the kids surrounding the area and started handing out snacks.

I walked toward the man and asked if I could have some of candy, but he didn't give me anything. I watched as the other kids enjoyed the sweet taste. I didn't know why the man dwas ignoring me.

"Sir, can I please have a candy too?"

His eyes looked disgusted when they met mine. He began speaking to me in a hostile tone.

"Kid, where's your filthy dad? He owns me a lot of money, and today I came to get what's mine."

It wasn't a surprise--my dad has a habit of borrowing money from the sharks. They were a group of criminals and government officials who gave out high-interest loans and took advantage of poor people like my dad. Nasty rumors had begun to surface a while ago about the penalty for borrowers who couldn't pay back the loans. They became extinct down to their roots, but my Uncle Steve was a police officer and looked out for our family.

I ignored the man's words and started to walk away. His problem had nothing to do with me, and I was too hungry to argue with him, but then the man grabbed my hand and took out a bag of snacks.

"If you tell me where I can find your dad, all of these snacks are yours."

My eyes couldn't believe the amount of food in front of me. I didn't have to worry about something to eat today, but something was fishy about the man. His eyes looked cold and menacing. In the moment, I found I didn't care. My stomach was yelling for me to feed it. I took the snacks and told him what he wanted.

"Dad is home at tent number seven."

"Thanks, kid--and here are the snacks I promised you."

The man handed me the food and left. I quickly opened a bag of chips and walked toward the welfare office. About ten minutes later, I arrived at the office's door, but before I entered the building, a security guard stopped me.

"Sorry, Reth, today is sign-in day; if your name isn't on the list, you know what to do."

Sign-in day meant only select people from different tents were allowed to eat; I was from tent number seven, with a population of twenty thousand residents and more refugees than other tents. Some days, the welfare office denied food to one tent so they could provide for starving people from another camp.

I looked through the sign-in sheet, but my name wasn't on it. I shook my head and turned back to the street.

I'd been lucky to run into the man in pink. Today, I didn't have to steal or go through dumpsters to fill my stomach. I decided to return home to share the snacks with my twin brother. My brother was nothing like me--he was friendly and kind and always shared his food with me. He'd saved my life countless times by giving me his food while starving himself. I walked in the direction of my home, and after twenty minutes, I arrived at the doorsteps of the tent, but before I entered, I heard screams coming from inside.

"Help me, Dad!"

My heart started to jump a bit, and I ran in, but my eyes and mouth shut when I saw the nightmare in front of me.

The man from earlier sat on a chair while four other men dressed in black suits acted as his guardians. One of them was on top of my mom; she was splayed on the ground, gagged, mouth her eyes full of complete defeat as they looked toward my dad, who sat beside the man in the pink suit. My twin brother screamed as one of the men cut his chest with a black knife. I ran toward the man hurting my brother, but then I heard a voice coming from the pink-suited man.

"Grab him--his heart and kidneys would sell better than the other kid's."

"Who are you people, and why are you doing this to my family?" I asked.

"Well, you should ask your loving dad who we are and why he sold his family to pay his debt."

One of the men standing next to the pink-suited man walked in my direction. I tried to escape, but I heard the screams of my mom getting raped and the man with knives ripping my brother's chest open. I froze, unable to do anything to help my loved ones, feeling only a deep hatred for the man I used to call Dad.

[Warning: The upcoming memories are disturbing. Do you wish to continue?]