This is me

My name is Alice W. I am Kenyan and at this particular time proud to be one. Why do I say at this particular time? Well, the GenZ in our Kenyan population decided it is time to keep our leaders accountable.

You see, for a long time I have felt that I have a story in me to tell. I am not sure what it is but there is this inner push to start a blog or to just start writing and for some reason i keep fighting it. I feel it is time now. To fight the fear and take a leap of faith.

I was born in a small town and raised in a slum. Contrary to what most people think about slums it wasn't all bad. In the slums there is a sense of community. People feel the urge to protect each other from the outside world. Among us kids sharing what we had was very normal. Playing barefoot in the trenches with no care was the order of the day. We were happy.

Every now and then donors would come with clothes, food stuff, sweets and toys. Sweet and toys were the highlight for us as children. We would all get the sugar rush then crush, sleep, wake up and repeat.

The donors also took us to school, they made sure our school fees were paid and we had uniform and the required books necessary to get a decent education.

Even during this time i knew i wanted more than just what was available. I wanted to give my mum a better life. My mum... my mum would wake up at 3am, fix breakfast for me and my brother and leave to go to the market. She had to go very early before the farmers produce was all bought out as that was the stock she would come and resell at a markup.

We did not see a lot of her, but we knew mum would get us a treat when we see her. My dad was not around much, and when he was, he was the vibes and good time guy for a day, then he would go missing until next time. This was normal for most households in the ghetto. Most kids got to see their dads a few times in the year. The dads who were present were like the community dads.

They would be the elders that we would all go for. If a boy was being mean or inappropriate they were the ones to tell, when women did not get along, they would step in and help settle the dispute. When boys started wayward ways, they would step in to discipline. The saying that it takes a village, was very literal.

We celebrated everyones' milestone. When a child did well in school, everyone was happy. When a child got accepted in the university, everyone would come together to crowdfund the fees necessary for them to pursue their education. We knew if one of us made it they would help the rest of make it.

And most made it out. Most made it to create themselves a better life and get their families out of the ghetto but most also did not and gave in to the frustrations and dissappointments of a life of lack. Some turned to crime, others turned to prostitution and others turned to drugs. Children lost their parents and siblings to these vices, and with this died their hopes of a better life.

I made it out. I thank God. With scars but with a spirit of resilience that is hard to kill.

This is me. This is a series. A true story. I hope you like it and enjoy reading my stories. See you on the next one.