EGMIN JOURNAL

THROUGH THE TEARY EYES OF GINA It's a wetty evening with an unforgiving cold breeze shrilling to the marrow. The sun has barely been seen throughout the day and neither the moon though its evening time. The hand of the clock says 7pm and my main work for the day just began a while ago. The instruction before leaving home was loud and clear, "Sell two bags of water else no money for you tomorrow ". Within the past 30minutes that I've meandered through the thick traffic light here at the 37-Operbea road however, only 2 sachets have been bought. From the small kiosk where i have taken cover from the rains, I wonder if anymore will be bought. I wish to go home, but when the instruction given me by Mrs Arthur resonates, i think more of selling the water than to return home. For the past 11years, I've had to contend with circumstances like this. Having lost my parents at a very tender age, it became necessary to go live with my uncle, lawyer Arthur and wife Mr