He walked the busy accra street, pulling his ‘trok’. Today has been a good day and his tray was filled with scrap metals ranging from parts of car engines and batteries to broken refrigerators.
The sun was at full blaze and he was stripped to his tattered chemise that had seen better days. There were so much holes in their chemise with torn parts hanging loose from under his armpits.
His entire body looked like he had taken a 3 hour bath in a pit of soot. The hawkers and pedestrians by the street felt compelled to move away as he trod along. He couldn’t be bothered, today was a good day.
Then suddenly, he found himself in the middle of the street. He couldn’t really remember exactly how that came about, he got up and saw the same people who were avoiding him minutes ago wailing and running helter skelter.
Some of the female hawkers had both hands on their heads and all of them had one thing in common. Their faces were stricken horrid and a few shed tears. He couldn’t understand why these people were looking towards his direction with such bizarre expressions.
He turned around to get his trok and go his merry way. That was when he saw it, lying in a puddle of blood and bones. A young man covered in soot, painfully gasping for air and stretching his hands to him for dire help.
And then, the pain started, from the deepest part of his chest and it descended sturdily. Then another, searing almost like torture shot through his head and he screamed.
Aargh! He woke up drenched in sweat, yet another nightmare. He sat and stirred at his surroundings, heaved a big sigh of relief and got up. “Beeeeeeeep”…He almost walked straight into a trotro vehicle.
He turned around in confusion, the driver and his passengers’ insults sounding like a swam of angry killer bees. Aargh!….He run back unto the pavement, looked down at his torn shorts and spaghetti string shirt. He sighed once more.