Everyday is met unwelcomely. Not knowing what’s next to expect; no job, no hope of finding employment, nowhere to look for food, no motivation and no foresight. Without his sole comforter, his mother, who died of AIDS when he was twelve, before his father took up a second ‘mum’ for him, dreams are dreamt everyday; big dreams for that matter, which never materialize. Dreaming of the day when he will manage to sustain an average livelihood.
He goes to church to find comfort among his fellow ‘sinners’; a legacy left behind by his dear departed mother. He hopes to find peace of mind. It turns out to be something much more than he has bargained for. (Is life really fair?) He is told to bring more money to church for free offering (is it free any more?) so that the church can sustain itself, (but who is the church?) He sees his hard-earned cash being embezzled by the church leaders, yet no one is arrested for all these crimes. Does crime really pay, he quizzes himself.
Day in day out, he looks up to the skies, not necessarily for the rains, but in a sorrowful prayer. Wishing the Good Lord to extend his helping hand and push him where he can find a ‘beach of gold’ (Is my mother really in Heaven and that is she sitting next to Him up in Heaven?) He prays for a man-to-man chat with the Almighty. Soon the prayer turns into a song. What’s next?
Politicians come up with ‘brilliant’ plans. He gets a few dollars out of it to buy himself a mug of beer to down his worries only for a moment yet he is not happy after that. They exploit him so that they gain political mileage. Promises and more promises are what he gets at the end of it all. Policies to help him realize his dreams are displayed in their ‘manifestos’ yet what he gets his nothing but the strength to keep on dreaming, and he keeps holding on to the memories of his dear mother who gave him all that she could get her hands on.
Politicians have abused him, church leaders have used him, his own father is accusing him of being too lazy and the answer from I Am Who I Am seems to be taking ages, he ponders his next move. He tries to combine the survival tactics he has learnt from what he has seen in his short experience on this earth. He lies, taking it up from the politicians, and he cheats, from the church leaders. He turns to crime. He has connections in the underground world. All of them are thugs and prostitutes. In no time he hooks up with prostitutes, deep into illicit drugs and engaged in all kinds of socially unacceptable deeds. Will he live long enough to see his one-month-old baby boy, who was almost aborted by its mother, as she felt that she could not nurture it properly?
Life is no longer fun. He soon finds himself on the streets after his father dismisses him as a disgrace to the family, but who is to blame. His home, the street allies and his bed, a heap of cardboard boxes. He has learnt the ways to survive on the streets. Its survival of the fittest 'out' there, (will I survive?) He sleeps with one eye closed and the other on the look out for ‘invaders.’ He no longer values his life. Where is he going to take refuge from this harsh world, with his old man calling him stupid and his stepmother breathing heavily down his neck everyday?
Soon he is on his deathbed after contracting the dreaded HIV infection. This, he realised after the death of his son, who died at a tender age of 4 months. The mother of his child is frequently seen visiting the ‘red light’ areas of Harare chasing after whoever wants to engage their services. He no longer thinks of the future. The only future he has in his mind is the day he is going to part ways with this world. His health is deteriorating rapidly. The one day at the age of 26years after a long illness he takes his last breathe of air and…
