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Trixie Wrights Nigeria
Student @ Yaba College of Technology
Lagos, Nigeria
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11132
996
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In People and Society 1 min read
The Solemn Promise of an Ajekpako.
<p><del>From the desk of an Ajekpako.</del></p><p><br/></p><p>Why?</p><p><br/></p><p>Or maybe the better question is: who decided?</p><p><br/></p><p>And why did they?</p><p><br/></p><p>We live in wooden houses with ceilings whose wounds beg to stay, whose tears beg for a bucket.</p><p><br/></p><p>We live in mud houses passed down through many generations.</p><p><br/></p><p>Feeding off empty promises from those in the high chair.</p><p><br/></p><p>Feeding off hand-me-downs from people we barely like.</p><p><br/></p><p>Feeding off hopes and good dreams on a Monday morning.</p><p><br/></p><p>Feeding off a title nobody else wants to own.</p><p><br/></p><p>I am my mother's son, yet I've heard the title “bastard” more than I've heard my name.</p><p><br/></p><p>I don't even think about fame. What will I gain?</p><p><br/></p><p>The only foreign clothes we ever wore were the “Okrika” from Mama Jide's “store.”</p><p><br/></p><p>The ones we wore until they tore.</p><p><br/></p><p>The only place we've ever been was the TV shop down the street.</p><p><br/></p><p>The only vacation was the ocean in the Makoko slums.</p><p><img alt="" src="/media/inline_insight_image/62178.jpg"/></p><p>Who?</p><p><br/></p><p>Who gave me a name that Mama would never call me?</p><p><br/></p><p>Who decided that I'd have this kind of life?</p><p><br/></p><p>Eating burnt rice from the pot I ought to have washed.</p><p><br/></p><p>Chasing their motos when Mama took us to the city.</p><p><br/></p><p>I am who they call Ajekpako.</p><p><br/></p><p>And this is my promise:</p><p><br/></p><p>I will make it.</p>

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