Growing up in a very small village where children play on the streets everyday is the most memorable time of ones childhood. I was left alone on the weekends starting from Friday evenings through to Sunday mornings. At approximately 3pm on a Friday, was the only day I would get home from school very early. I was hoping to see my grandmother all packed and ready to go to the market. My grandmother was an old lady who had spent all her years being a market vendor. Very often, I would have to accompany her to the bus stop, where we would wait for Jamila's father to pick her up on his way to work. "What a life for an old woman to be living", I said to myself. while I stared down the lonely and rocky road, which is a reflection of the lives of both children and adults in the village. Suddenly Mr.Smith arrived. Grandmother boarded the bus, and waved goodbye.
"Hurray hurray" I shouted. while skipping down the street. I was on my way to Jamila's house. I knew that Jamila was another child left alone, unprotected in the small village called Chop Chop. "Hurray hurray" we shouted, as we approached each other. Our little hearts pounded, as our adventure begins. Taking to the streets of the village Jamilaand I. We joined other unprotected kids in the village. We would play games for long hours. while we wait to see the night. We look forward to go fishing and swimming. Our bags were already packed with food, extra clothing, lanterns, and even pots, should we feel the need for some cooked food. Fish line and hooks were bought with the little money Jamila's father had left, for persons who did a little work around the yard. OH! how we wish the weekends would be munch longer.
Jamila was my only friend. We had promised each other that we would be best friends forever. Holding the title of being the two most adventurous kids in the village. Jamila was always there when i needed a friend, when ever I was sad, when I got home work. Even when my mother died, my friend was by my side. I was expected to be a friend to Jamila when the kids in our village started to tease her of the ragged cloths she would always wear. Instead, I joined in with the other kids and I mocked her and laughed while she cried. Jamila turned and walked away. I knew then that I had lost a friend.