Bittersweet 7
Everything went well until it was time for vacation. The school compound buzzed with excitement. Suitcases were dragged, laughter rang out, and promises of reunion filled the air. Everyone was happy… except me. While others counted down to freedom and fun, I counted down to bondage. I had nothing to look forward to but the familiar slavery that awaited me in my uncle’s house. And so, while others laughed and waved goodbye, I cried. Silent, bitter tears rolled down my cheeks as they departed joyfully, unaware of the storm waiting for me. In my uncle’s house, hope became my only companion. I counted the days to resumption like a prisoner marking the wall of a cell. I counted while hawking soda soap under the scorching sun. I counted while scrubbing poultry pens thick with stench. I counted while washing pigsties, my hands trembling with fatigue and disgust. I counted while bending over endless rows of crops on his vast farmland, my small body working like that of a hired labourer. And th...