New Beginning from Betrayl

I am gradually realizing that my street  seems to develop this strange stench over the years and this stink increases with time. The filth reflecting in the worn out clothes of the children aimlessly roaming the streets can choke one to death. From the famous Razzi beer parlor down the street to the GreenLand brothel adjacent my mother's bar, these places birth the disgusting stench  of my environment  and gradually it is becoming inhabitable.  As I struggle to jump across piles of dirt littered all over, I could feel different hands and shoulders all over me.

Everyone is always in a hurry in a space so small. I quickly stretched my hand out to greet a fellow who stretched his hand out on a moving bike. We smiled at each other. 

I got home at exactly 6:30pm and the last thing on my schedule is resting. I took out my shoes that were already soiled with water, dirt and oil. I raised the curtain of our one room apartment and I was greeted by an empty room. Again, my younger siblings failed to lock the door. They left the door unlocked three days back and yet again today. I was filled with  rage and was determined to spank thier little butts when they return from thier ritual of daily evening plays. There were little thieves all over the neighborhood  and even when one is fully conscious, he has to keep watch because the fine watch on your left wrist might be sold before you turn right and realised it is gone. You must keep your side bag in front of you else you will be left with a dangling rope and the bag disintegrated from the rope that holds it. You must be wise and of course patient to survive in our street. 

As I gather the firewood in the kitchen towards cooking dinner,  I kept memorizing how tommorow will be. It was evident I was gradually developing anxiety disorder for one issue after the other keeps racing through my mind. I will wake up tommorow by 5am,  prepare breakfast for my younger siblings, dress them for school then clean the house and wash the dishes. My morning chores  will end before 10am then I'll sleep for two hours before joining my mother at her bar. I will stay at the bar till 5 or sometimes 6pm while my mother rests at home and prepares lunch. Dr. Charles said my mother needs enough rest. Infact all diabetic patients do and so I take over her bar from 12 to 6pm then I return to fix dinner but if there is a  leftover from lunch, it serves as dinner then I  help my siblings with thier homework and put them to sleep before my mother closes for the day at 10pm. 

Ever since my mothers condition worsened, I have missed out on lots of night events in the neighborhood lately. I even missed out the famous annual ghetto fiesta at Razi. Normally I would dash out at 10pm when she returns but since her last heart attack, I have traded night fun to keep watch over her. My  mother had a heart attack last month. My younger siblings were sleeping like logs and my mother laid half dead panting like a cheetah amidst gun shots. I returned home from a party  to pick a jacket after i got cold only to meet my mother at the mercy  of death. This scenario altered my night life and I haven't attended a night party in the last one month. Even the nearest party.