JL | journal

Once a upon a time, a boy named Bahati - blessing, or luck - lived on the streets of Arusha. He was invited into a program called Nafasi Nyingine - Another Chance. There he was taught English and fed food, three times a week.

One night Bahati was found on the street with a bleeding head. It was a friend of his whom he told he is not going to be friends with anymore that got angry and hit him with a rock. When found, he was taken to the hospital directly by a nice lady, and later to her home. They watched football together at home, and they bought some nice clothes together.

With his nicer clothes, he showed up at the Nafasi Nyingine with his chin high. The friend who hit him with a rock was still his friend, after all.

A week later, the nice lady decided to visit his home together with him. For all that time he told everybody that his home was in Moshi - a nearby town to Arusha. On the way to Moshi, he asked the lady where were they going.

“To your home, of course.” said the lady.

“My home is not in Moshi.” said Bahati, “It’s in Arusha.”

So they turned back and took him to his home in Arusha. Upon arrival, they see a nice cement house occupied by a couple. They were Bahati’s father and step-mum. They were really happy to see him, in fact, they have been sending people into the streets looking for him.

There’s a long burnt scar on Bahati’s thigh which he said was done by his abusive father.

“It wasn’t me, it was my brother. He was trying to punish him for stealing his money.” Said Bahati’s father. “I filed it to the police at the end and you could check the record to prove that it wasn’t me.”

Bahati’s step-mum is not Bahati’s favorite, not like his passed-away mother. Although she seems to care for him a lot, too.

“He keeps running away into the streets and we simply don’t know what to do anymore.” His parents admitted. “Perhaps we should just give you the custody of him if that is what he wants.”

No, that was not possible. He was to stay with his family. His picture was to be shared by police officers so they know where to take him when they ever find him on the streets again.

“His name is Solomon, by the way.” His parents pointed out, “Not Bahati.”