On nights like these, when silence is total and from my veranda I can
see the glimmer of a distant streetlamp on the
outskirt of my property,
my memories of hunger and smell of decaying garbage as a child
scavenger comes into focus. I can see myself once again scavenging
for food in garbage bins under those streetlights, on nights like this.
It is funny how I can still remember the sweet smell of decaying garbage
which was my childhood life. I was found in a garbage dump by two old
women beggars who took pity and raised me to become a child scavenger and beggar like themselves.
I can still remember the priest who decided that I am worth educating and thus
ended my being a child scavenger. Soon my hunger for food turned to hunger
for knowledge. I tried my best to learn how to read and write while at the
same time working as a houseboy to anybody who can feed me, give me shelter and rime to attend school.
A particular incident during my
elementary grades I can recall. I was then a
weekend houseboy to one of my teachers. On a weekend day, I was tasked
by my teacher to buy a kilo of pork. While on my way back to his house, a
group of older boys accosted me and demanded I hand them the kilo of pork.
Sensing danger, I ran towards my teacher''s residence. Seeing the gate was
closed, I threw over the gate the kilo of pork so that they cannot get it. Angry
at what I did, the leader of the group gripped my neck while the other boys
boxed me. I tried to fight back but lack of air prevented me as I was being
choked. I then decided to play dead. It was then that the leader of the group
released his grip of my neck, and together with the other boys, ran away
thinking I was dead.
When the gate of my teacher''s house opened, he came out fuming
mad and very angry, not at the boys who wanted to snatch
the kilo of pork, but at me.
The kilo of pork which I threw over the gate landed on the top of his bald head.
That was my last day as a houseboy with my teacher.