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HANNAH N’ OLIVER 3

Written by : KeN And Speranza

[ Part One ]

[ Part Two ]


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HANNAH AND OLIVER: [PART THREE]

They approached an old looking hall full of young looking rugged women. She was dropped inside the hall where she lay helpless like a strand of spaghetti draped over furniture. She lay unconscious on the floor. The women in the place looked weak and feeble.  Their faces had huge pregnant stories to tell. Where was this place? She automatically knew that something was not right.  The two men who had brought her walked towards the door and locked it from the outside.

 

She slowly raised her head and gazed at the surroundings around her. She was appalled. A horde of young ladies lay helpless on the floor of the hall. They seemed abused, intoxicated and dehydrated.  As she was trying to  get herself  up, she felt something pressing hard on her cleavage area. She slowly inserted her left hand inside her dress and unmasked a tag that had been permanently inscribed around her neck. It was written no. 1061. She gazed at it again. She noted that all the ladies  inside the hall had the same tag but a different number. She wondered what it meant.


The hall was dark. It was during the night. Her watch read 1am. She sat at the corner of the hall wondering  about her fate.  She hunched up her legs until the knees touched her chest. She held herself and started staring at the young girls. She wondered why they looked so weak and feeble. She wondered what they were being subjected to. Some of the ladies were ‘au natural’ while some had torn clothes that exposed their unwashed bodies. She noted that some of them had fresh cuts and scars on their faces and thighs. Hannah’s heart pounded hard as she  realized that this was not a bed of roses. The condition that the ladies were in, explained it all.

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the SILENT KILLER

BY : [ KEN AND SPERANZA ]

THE SILENT KILLER: POVERTY

poverty in africa

help and feel good enough to do it. life is really cutting off on these lonely hungry children of the poor parents

Throngs of white-washed faced children, with annoying streaks of faded urine plastered on their calf muscles. They are marauding the slum area playing around with puddles and discolored dirty-looking streams of water which occasionally form when it happens to rain. Looking from the horizon, the ramshackle settlements are closely built together in a bid to support each other. Theoretically, in any case one of the houses at the end fall, the entire row collapses with a thud! Walking in between the crowded aisles and cramped alleyways, all kinds of business men and woman have displayed their merchandise including food products on the walking pathways just above freely running dirty streams. This doesn’t make the slum people feel a bit nervous buying such products but it’s a norm and that’s what they live on. On the back of houses and on mountains of garbage, weak-looking frail mangy dogs scamper everywhere around the place. This is a place where plain Ugali (African Cake) is the only affordable staple food from January 1st to December 31st. as a reader, it’s hard to understand the kind of Economic strains some people go through. Where the residents wash their faces with puddles of water or streams that form whenever it rains. In this settlement, crime happens and death goes unnoticed. In the stalls, alcohol is cheaper to purchase than food thus most tend to stay on alcohol claiming that it takes away the pain of hunger. Where parents force their children to prostitution to at least bring food on the table. In such places, sex is the main form of entertainment between couples such that they have a number of uncountable children of which they can’t manage. This is the daily living of almost half of the world’s population.

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