Street Diaries

Home. They say home is where the heart is. If this is true then Harmony city is truly my home. My family has lived and died in this God-forsaken, crime-ridden city for generations. You would think a place called harmony would be harmonious, but don't be fooled, this place is anything but peaceful.

Things weren't easy growing up, one of seven siblings, I watched my mother work her ass off as a domestic worker for a rich family. She worked as an elephant and got paid like a fucking mosquito. We were poor and back then, you were either very rich or you were very poor. The middle class was little to nonexistent. The system was designed by the government to keep the rich richer and the poor, poorer.

Most people didn't have a choice than to meet ends anyway possible. Criminality among the poor was like a way to escape poverty.

We lived in the Hell's gaze district. The neighborhood was known for its high level of crime and was the only place you could afford to live in as a poor person. Hell's gaze was practically run by gangsters along with the corrupt politicians who used them as muscles. In this way, the gang bosses had the protection of the government officials, even the governor to operate without any interference by the law.

The police force was already the most corrupt government institution in existence, so even the people chose to trust these crime bosses over the policemen who would stab them in the back to take the little they have from them.

Mother got sick when I was seven, my older brother Kazeem was ten, and my younger siblings Shola and Shade were five. Father had been imprisoned three years earlier for starting a riot at the construction company he worked with, for unbearable conditions of employment.

My mother had breast cancer and It was a death sentence because we were already struggling to feed. How could we have afforded the cancer treatment? She had to stop working at a point and our uncle Kasali who was a known smuggler took care of us. We were forced to watch our mother suffer in pain as she faded away and succumb to the disease.

Watching mother die must have been part of what made Kazeem snap. After mother's passing, kazeem joined the warlords, a street gang that father had belonged to when he was younger. The gang was run by Billy the devil" Ajebukola. This was a man who had it all. Money, fame, power, influence, and protection.

Kazeem dropped out of school and went more into crime. He provided for us and we couldn't complain about anything he was doing.

A year after my mother's death we went to check my father in prison. He had gotten his sentence reduced for good behavior and he was supposed to be coming home in a couple of months. He was very happy, we all were.

"Everything is going to be better once I get out of here kid, " He said smiling from ear to ear like he usually did.

Unfortunately, he didn't get out of prison, at least not alive. He died the following month and never got to make everything better as he promised. He was just found stabbed in his cell and that was the end of it.

This further twisted Kazeem up. Six years passed and Kazeem had already become an enforcer for the warlords. He got the nickname "the butcher" and became even colder than before. As bad as uncle Kasali was, even he tried to get him to leave the gang but he failed.

"The only way out of the gang is in a box or boxes, uncle and you know it, " he would argue.

"Not if you leave town, " Kasali explained.

"So that they can come for my siblings?" Kazeem screeched.

"Billy wouldn't do that. He was a friend of your dad's when they were young, " Kasali responded.

"If you think he wouldn't come after everybody I know including you and your family, then you don't really know what you're talking about, " kazeem screamed.

This got Kasali quiet and he held Kazeem by his shoulder and said:

"Just be careful out there, kid. Your siblings only have you now."

"Man you be careful too, you're a criminal too, " kazeem chuckled.

I was already in high school and I was doing good, life was better and Kazeem was taking care of us. He moved us out of Hell's gaze, to Taiwo's avenue, a street named after one of the first rich families to settle there. I got into one of the better high schools in the neighborhood. I met another kid who was also from the ghetto and we became friends. He was from Kings lane, which was just another poor neighborhood.

He was only there on scholarship, his name was Mike and he had a single parent, his overprotective mother.

Another election was about to be held and as part of their campaigns, the politicians would start school programs. One of these programs was a quiz competition among several schools.

I had won the competition for my school, two consecutive years before then, and when it was announced on the television and all the schools involved started preparations, Mike overheard some of the boys in Hell's gaze who belonged to the 666 Street mob when they were threatening to "deal with the Kid that's always winning the competition if he tried to win again."

"I know they were talking about you, Kunle what are you going to do?" Mike whispered.

"Well... they're just bluffing. They can't do anything, Mikey, " Kunle replied and chuckled.

"Bro, these kids don't joke around. They're crazy, " Mike asserted.

"We'll be okay, bro. Don't be so worried about it, "

Kings lane, just like Hell's gaze was another crime-filled neighborhood. It was run by the 666 Street mob, so Mikey knew a lot of their young members. He was an only child and he was raised by his mother, after his father, who was a taxi driver got shot by a police officer when he refused to bribe the officer. All his mother wanted was to make him better than she and his father were.

Mike was a skinny boy, he was even skinnier than I was and we went everywhere together.

On my way back home the same day I noticed being followed by some boys. Their leader was a guy called "one-eyed" Sunday. He was a big kid with one bad eye. They attacked me in an alley and when Sunday held me by my shirt all I could do was stare into his bad eye. He whispered into my ears:

"Na you dey form brain boy, yes?"

I wanted to say something but my mouth felt so dry and the words wouldn't come out. I suddenly felt a blow to my stomach. It felt like I was getting the air squeezed out of me and I landed on the ground. Like this was a signal for the other boys they started kicking me. I used all the strength I had left to scream:

"Do you know who my brother is, you cunts?"

Sunday stopped the other boys and paid attention to me where I was on the ground, bleeding, and still holding my hurting stomach.

"Who the fuck be your brother and why should I care?" He asked in his thick voice and the other boys giggled.

I stood up from the ground and with suddenly found confidence, I said:

"My brother is Kazeem the butcher, he runs with the warlords and, you guess what happens when I tell him what you did to me? He's going to kill all of you and your fucking families, you dumb cunts."

One of the boys rushed at me but was suddenly stopped by a blow to the face by Sunday. That was a signal to them not to touch me. He then walked up to another boy and asked him:

"Why didn't you tell me who his brother is, you fool. Do you want to die?"

He then waved his hand and like zombies, they all dispersed.

I hope you enjoyed the first chapter of this story. Vote and comment as you read, though. I'm kind of new and I welcome polite criticism. Thanks.