HARDSHIP

• Jemima Williamson-wong, Grade 8
• Short Story
• 2016

As the rickshaw drew nearer my jaw dropped open in incredulity, the smell of putrid and noxious food caused me to gag and the taste of malnutrition filled my body. The palace of trash rose up and I could see the heat beaming of the bright and vivid mounds. The sounds of babies crying while mothers sifted through the piles of waste filled me with sorrow and guilt as I looked out on this unhumane way of living. Nevertheless you could clearly see the love that these mothers had for their children, and how they had given everything to them. As I walked over towards the mass of people sifting through the waste I couldn’t believe they had bare feet. I could see the acute and sharp metals and plastics sticking out between the heated, rotten and mushed food. While I turned a circle I could feel the culpability and anguish consume me. I still could not understand the hardship theses families must go through just to stay alive.