Ja, well, I’ve blabbed to you pretty long. I’m sure you are getting tired of listening. Although you all listening means a lot. (Thank you!) But I do want to tell you how it all ended. Because that’s the point of stories – hearing how you get from A to B – hey? And now I am at B. And can I tell you – place B is a bea UT-i-ful place to be.

And dirty.


Because I now have a job. It doesn’t pay me yet, because I’m working off the price of my “poor life choices” as Lazola’s parents called them. But now, every Friday afternoon, me and Jade – if she doesn’t have any safe friends to hang out with – go over to Lazola’s house. Jade gets to go play, eat biscuits, and be spoiled, and I go to the workshop and work. And Saturday morning, I work.

That’s right – I’m learning how to be a motorcycle mechanic.

Which right now consists of:

  1. Make lots of cups of tea for other people.
  2. Sweeping
  3. Cleaning gunk off parts.
  4. Cleaning and polishing stuff.
  5. Organising boxes of stuff.
  6. Filing paperwork.
  7. Answering the phone.
  8. More cleaning.

Ja, well, so the actually “learn to be a motorcycle mechanic” has a long way to go. Lazola’s father says, “Everyone starts at the bottom.”

I’m not going to lie, hey? I am sick and tired of cleaning and cleaning and cleaning and making cups of tea and coffee. Some of the customers are RUDE! But I get to watch, learn, and listen, and someday I’ll start doing more interesting things. Lazola’s father promised, and I think he is a man who keeps his word.

Now that I have written everything down –– writing is a lot of work, hey?–– I can see that my story might sound like, “If you do something bad you get rewarded.”

That isn’t my point. Ag, I’m not sure what my point is. I just wanted to be happy. I thought going on a ride would be a nice escape from my life. I don’t enjoy it very much, even if we do have DSTV and my parents both have jobs.

Ja, I mean, I think my parents love me. In their own way. But it still feels hard, hey? I wish they would change. But I don’t think they are going to change. Be nice if they did. But nobody is perfect. I know that. And them loving my sister and I and making sure we go to school, have food and DSTV – I do know that is more than a lot of people get in life.

But I guess, I guess why I’m telling you this story is as a thank you to Lazola’s family. They didn’t ask me to do this. It isn’t part of my punishment. (Cleaning out that storeroom was­­, though. THE DUST WAS EPIC, and not in a good way.) But, ja, I guess this is my ‘thank you’ to them. Maybe it was my own, long winded way of showing them that even though I did something stupid, I’m grateful they didn’t skin me alive, or rat me out to my parents.

They are now our Friday night and Saturday family. And I guess I wanted to share that with you. How even though some people like me make dof mistakes, people like them might love us and give us another chance.

That’s a good enough reason to tell a story, hey?

Ja, well, if you don’t think so, I don’t care.

(Just kidding. I totally care!)

Love to you all, my listeners. You were the best! – Ayesha


Tell us: Can you relate to Ayesha’s story?