Thinking that both parents dying in the period of a year was the worst to possibly happen to little boy like me, but no, life got even worse. My sister and I ended up in the streets of Brazil. Lying there, sleeping during the day and begging at night. But all the begging never got us anywhere. People didn’t even have enough for themselves, talking about enough for someone else.
Living in the streets was horrible and scary, especially at night. You will never know how dangerous it is, till the danger strikes you. I remember that night so clearly. The night my sister got raped. Picturing him stripping off her clothes, with no mercy, while his friend held me. I felt so helpless. I couldn’t help her. I couldn’t save her.
As a result, she ended up pregnant. At the age of eleven. I remember her crying to me. Crying to her little brother. Telling me her life was over. She told me she could never have this child. She was only a child herself. For the fact that she was raped.
Abortion was illegal in Brazil, but my sister felt as if she had no other choice. I begged and pleaded with her, but she only answered, ‘ Who are you? What do you know? Do you know what I’m going through?’ I couldn’t answer her. My sister, like other young women in Brazil, died as a result of an illegal abortion.
This was when I knew I was on my own. Often, I asked myself, was life actually worth living? Was there any point, any point of me being alive, striving for survival? You may have wondered how I got to where I am right now. I think it was God. But I’m not sure. I always thought God was ether with someone, or not. Sometimes I thought he was with me, and other times, I felt alone. Would god actually allow his child to suffer? I don’t know.
I survived by picking out of garbage cans, picking out things I could use, including food. I also stole from tourists. I know it was wrong, but how could you blame me? What else could I have done? My mother had always raised me never to steal. And I never stole, until she left us and I had no other choice.
This is the town I live in, Lord, what kind of town is this? No water, no sewage, no electricity. My town is infested with rats and cockroaches. Shanty Town, where violence, sicknesses and death are part of our daily lives. For young women, like my sister, born into this area, their only choices of survival without education are prostitution or domestic jobs. Us children, generally left alone, where we are often abused, raped, go hungry, or live in the streets, like me. This is very risky, as many of us would be nabbed and shoved into the trunk of the van. Some were murdered and mutilated for their organs, especially eyes, lungs, hearts and livers. Their discarded bodies were tossed outside the walls for municipal cemeteries. Others were sold. How could you sell another human being? For we are all priceless. Life itself is worth more that silver and gold. Isn’t it?
Here am I right now, staring into the sky with tears being dislodged from my eyes. I ask myself, Is there a future ahead of me? Is there something waiting for me? Is there any help? Who knows? But as I go off into this endless sky, to fall, or to fly.
Abiola Adeogun