Personal Narrative: My Life At Home

Sometime midday, 22nd July, 1996 somewhere along the coast of West Africa my fate was sealed, there I lay on a tattered bed of a maternal ward with no idea what my life was going to be about. It was nothing like in the Hollywood movies these days, where a baby is born in a fully-fledged air conditioned labor ward with professionally trained doctors at the beck. My case was totally different.

Growing up as a child wasn’t as pleasant as I had seen in the case of others. Being the first male of three, I knew what responsibility I had, blazing the trail for my brother and cousin to follow. My parents were not financially sound and I was rather fortunate to find myself in a low profile school where tuition was almost free. Despite all these harsh

In school I hold my head up high as I do well in most of my classes. My dad is a school teacher whereas my mum remains unemployed having been struck by a disease which for quite a long time made her a pig in a poke. Things are not going on too well at home, situations keep on deterring where in school I keep on striving for academic excellence. Sometimes I am happy at other times, down –trodden. But every point I am glad because we are not sleeping on the streets. We eat meager meals day and night and have a place to place our heads during sundown although it is not

A helping hand can help alleviate a huge burden off my family, and set me on a comfortable path to achieve very great things in life. Sometimes I think about home, how my father fares, his current condition: whether in comfort or deeply thinking about the family in the regards of finances especially now that he has envisioned building a house of our own. With an opportunity such as this, a helping hand will go a long way to ensure that I can further my school after undergrad and also encourage and motivate me in all my endeavors and teach me to better give back to the