I used to visit a market place, one day I met a very young boy selling cigarettes and plastic
plates. The boy was about 10 years old. I confronted him and he told me he was brought from
the village by an uncle who later threw him from his home after he got married. So he
started surviving on well wishes and sometimes by selling goods and he was even engaged in
drug abuse. He longed to go back to the village where his parents were living.
One day my mother sent me to the market to buy a bag of mealie meal, relish and cooking oil.
She had given me $12. When I met the boy I immediately gave him all the money so that he could
go back to his village. I did not mind what my mother would do or say to me, what mattered to
me was that the boy was given a chance to go back to his village. Afterwards I escorted him to the bus station and I bought him a ticket. I gave him my address so that when he reached the village he could communicate. When he arrived his mother wrote me and was very thankful because her son had arrived safely.
Edward M, 19, Zambia