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The Key To a Better Life

By Maissa Karim
The sun spat on the pavement Its Lieated saliva smothering the run-down concrete. Inside the artificially cool Gardenhouse restaurant, the affluent perched delicately on their comfortable seats and sipped cool drinks with chunk* of ice floating on top. while 1 stood, and yearned desperately outside.
I sighed and scolded myself for letting my hunger entice me. 1 would eat. when there was food. and food would be there when there was money, and when would there be money? That only God Knew. It wasn't because none of us wo rked hard It was simply that whatever we earned wasn't sufficient to buy whatever we vzanted. and that consequently led to our present situation — '/irtual starvation.
My mane is Raoul, I have two brothers; Pito and Juan as well as a two-year old sister called Rucla who is perpetually unhealthy and greatly needs medical attention. Mamma is flftythree now and Papa died some time ago; old age they said lovingly. Personally I thought it was because of his indiscriminate love for the ultimate poison — alcohol
We live in an impoverished slum here in what one would classify as being the most dilapidated sector of the city. Our habitat, specifically speaking, consists of cardboard from an unknown packaging company and plastic bags derived from the local supermarket. Mamma works at the big garments factory on the other side of the city. She has to take a bus there everyday, we spend half of the little money we have on the bus-fare itself.
The sun bolted the surface I was standing on: merciless. I thought, just like everything else in life. The withered tree on the roadside welcomed me with its temporary shade from the oppressive heat. I was cognizant that no one would desire having their shoes shined tn this unsociable weather. Forecasted thoughts filtered Into my mind entwined with the bare facts I already knew, how cbuld I possibly change the future? I pondered with despair.
Yesterday was calamitous. Mamma lost her job. "too old." the manager said, "getting remarkably careless with the stitching, but not to worry a replacement can be found with
no difficulty." he anxiously reassured his boss. Along with this disastrous blow. Rucla suffered from one of her now frequent attacks of high fever and severe fits of coughing. Guilt welled up in me every time I saw her. She was so small, so helpless. 1 watched Pito and Juan shrivel into skin and bones, their hollow cheeks a reflection of our extensive hunger. Mamma and her portable grief over Papa's
death. The. dark heights of defeatism that encompassed us completely.
An hour had passed and the weather showed no sign of im provement. I decided to make my onward journey home. It was so quiet that all I could hear was my fatigued panting as I continued to trudge on. The faded red and white sign of Marlo's Grocery Store' caught my eye. I looked inside, there was no one. I looked around me. there was no one. I nervously took a step forward, the cash register inside was
slightly open revealing the, neatly stacked pieces of paper next to each other called money. Again 1 furtively surveyed my surroundings: not a single person could be spotted.
It was at this point in my life a thousand questions simultaneously flooded my mind. What would Mamma have to say about this. Mamma who be lleved so strongly In religtoQ.' in morality. 1 thought about all of us who had been brought up
to be as honest and liardwork ing as possible in our poor conditions. To be charitable to each, other as well as other people and most important of all to never get involved with the tempting crimes of my family, their desolate, haggard faces and then at last I thought, what about me? What will happen to me if I get found out doing this terrible m‘ld^id picture myself standing on the green bank of goodness, peering down into the black waters of evil I made the decision I took the plunge