Life of an orphan (part 2)
Published On July 15, 2017 » 1689 Views» By Davies M.M Chanda » Features
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It happened to meThis is the moving tale of what can happen to us when our parents go to join the Lord as told to MEMORY SICHINGA.  Here’s what happened . . . .

I THEN asked my aunt what was going on and she started crying and told me that my parents and sister had died in a road traffic accident on their way home to Lusaka after leaving me at school.
The only thing I remember is water being poured on my body, I had fainted.
When I came to, I realised that the people whom I loved so much more than anything else in the world were no more.
It was like a dark storm that nobody could clear out had fallen all over me.
I couldn’t understand why God had decided to take away my entire family.
I cried uncontrollably as I could not bear the fact that I was all alone.
I was told that my parents were involved in an accident just some 10 kilometres near Chisamba and they died on the spot.
My mother’s and father’s arms were amputated and my sister Tracy’s right leg was amputated too. The vehicle had overturned several times and was beyond repair.
On the day of burial, I fainted three times.
It was the most horrific day of my life.
After the burial, people started leaving one by one.
A few days later, I packed all my things and moved in with my aunt and uncle.
I could no longer continue with school because my aunt and uncle claimed my parents did not finish paying my school fees so it was pointless to go back because I would still not be allowed to write my exams.
A few days later, I decided to inquire about whether the money for the rentals of the house I lived in with my parents could be used to pay the fees and all I received was a slap from my aunt who told me to go and ask my parents at the graveyard!
She told me I was an ungrateful child because I did not appreciate the fact that I was living in her house and eating her food.
My life became so hard and difficult.
From being the girl that everyone admired and showered with love to being the poor girl that people despised, insulted and saw as a doormat.
In life when you have money and all, it’s hard to know who is real and fake.
It is only when things go sour that one gets to know people’s true colours.
I couldn’t stand the life of being called names everyday and being accused of things that I did not do.
My life had become a nightmare, it was unbearable.
So one day, I asked my aunt if I could pay a visit to my grandmother (my late mum’s mother) in Kanyama area. I had to fetch 50 litres of water from our neighbour’s pump before being allowed to leave the house.
I explained to my grandmother about the kind of life I was living at my aunt’s place and she started crying, asking God why her daughter (my mother) was taken away from us.
She told me to move in with her.
Even though my grandmother did not live in poverty, I agreed to move in with her because at her place I felt some kind of serenity as compared to my aunt’s place.
When I informed my aunt about my decision to move in with my grandmother, she called me all sorts of names and vowed that if I decided to leave, I should never ever go back to her house again.
At that point, my mind was already made up and I got all my things and left.
In the mornings, I would go with my grandmother to crash stones for sale on Mungwi Road.
Even though life was not easy, it was way better than living with my aunt and uncle.
I was now crashing stones for a living. Everything about me had changed.
I was no longer plaiting nice hair styles or wearing fancy clothes.
I no longer received the presents that my parents would present to me.
I no longer had the friends that I used to play with in my neighbourhood when my parents were alive.
All those people who used to visit us frequently during weekdays and on weekends no longer paid me a visit. My life was not the same as before.
Up to now, I still don’t know what happened to all the furniture and the vehicles that we had.
I still do not know whether the house I lived in with my parents and my younger sister is on rent or whether it was sold.
Once in a while, I do go to the grave yard to put flowers on my parents’ and sister’s graves and to promise them that despite the challenges and difficulties I face, I will work hard and achieve my dreams.
I always remember my sister’s last words when she and my parents took me to school. She advised me to study hard so that my parents could be proud of me.
Whenever things go bad in my life, I always remember her words and that keeps me going.
My grandmother is ageing hence her strength is weakening.
I still crash stones for a living, but am planning on getting back to school.
I intend on enrolling for evening classes.
In that way, I can be crashing stones during the day and later go to school in the evening.  I believe that one can make their dreams come true if they put their minds to it.
NB: Contributions to this column, the column you write, should be sent to The Editor, “It happened to me” P O Box 30394, Lusaka, email: or drop them at any of our Times Printpak offices.  Please note that it may take some time before articles are published; this is because they are published on a first- come- first- served basis. Don’t lose hope. Keep sending in your valuable contributions. Editor.

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