LETTER TO THE STREET GUY BY MARTIN BECK NWORAH

Dear Guy,
Sorry for putting the "dear" because I know it is quite uncommon to
hear such words at the motor parks,that uncompleted building inside the bush,the mama elegushi pot or shisha bus stop. My name is a guy...

who is concerned about your future. You see my brother,I understand
that your family have abandoned you and written you off;that's why you
found solace in the streets and joined the band wagon. You smoke to
forget your pains and sorrows, but does it really go away? You fight
and gym to show you've become a man, but is that really the true
definition of a man?
It is true life deals us hard blows at some point in our life's
journey;but we must pick up the pieces and continue. You've been
labelled restive and a street tout,hence you find your office complex
at the motor parks. You have no money to 'chyke' ladies so you rape
our little darlings. I understand your fears in life and that is why
you don't want to confront them. Each time we tried helping you,you'll
spend the money and continue pouring aspersions on everyone. You
believe life is a jungle and that is what it really is. But the way
you're going about surviving in this jungle is really not the best.
You listen to Phyno's songs and say that he understands your plight.
He does,and that's why he packaged himself and makes money with
it...you too can.
Where you are now is not the best. Throw away that one wrapper and
convince yourself you can succeed through the right way. You may not
have the brain to study,but I know you have the strength to work.
Think about your future and make it count while there is still time.
You will succeed,and when we get to the Promised Land,you'll pass me a
glass of water and thank God for the gift of grace for the race.