African neighborhood.

I hear the roaring African beats next door, the tribes are approaching, slowly but surely. My pet lion is meandering around the plains in my backyard. Ahh, the fresh African air, the smell of barbecue. 

Talking to my friend, I started reminiscing really hard about my neighbors. I used to run home everyday after school, whilst my parents were away trying to root themselves in a new African environment. Living in what was then a run-down house, I used to sit by a low wall where I could look over into the neighbors. That’s where I made my first friends actually. I began conversing with the next door children. I don’t even remember what we used to talk about, but everyday I would run over, sit on the wall and talk on for day’s end with them. Later, I moved onto the other end of the wall to another household, and there I made new friends, this time a mid 20’s woman (whom we later employed at my parent’s work.) Memories like these need to be cherished, as I am bound to forget them again.

It’s a beautiful reminder that frequent acquaintances can be developed into so much more, friendships and new relationships are always out there, if only we decide to look beyond our borders, and knock on the wall.


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