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My brown shoes.

Once upon a time. I had just obtained a bachelor's degree in political science from the university of Ghana. Some friends of mine and I were Teaching assistants to some Lecturers, as national service personnel. It wasn't a very great time in my life. The thing is, I've never had it easy growing up, as a beautiful young woman who had lost both parents.
My name is Ayeyi.
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Both of my parents were Petty food traders at a local primary school in my locale. My father was burnt alive one morning as he was preparing the food for sale. Mum suffered an instant heart attack after seeing my father's burnt carcass. I was fifteen back then. And I saw my parents die right in front of me, and there was nothing I could do to save them.
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I bounced around foster homes until I finished Senior high school. Mr Stanley Gyamfi, My foster dad, took me in when I finished Shs. I had just turned 18. I was working as a waitress at a plush restaurant in East legon. He came there for lunch and I served him. He said that I was very eloquent and asked why I wasn't in school. I told him about my situation and he took me in. He took care of my university fees and every other basic need of mine. He was an old, broken widower who had just lost his wife and children in a plane crash. They were on their way home from a holiday trip in Seychelles. I guess he took me in because he knows what it's like to loose your family.
I didn't only become his foster child, I was his sex mate, personal assistant and confidant; but he never introduced me as any of those. He told everyone that I was his daughter, his biological daughter.
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Since I was his "daughter", I allowed myself to fall in love with someone I could call a lover. He was my course mate in school, Derrick. I had finished university and I thought I was old enough to date. When my "father" met my boyfriend, He cut me off from his life and threw me out of the house. I became destitute and alone. When Derrick learnt the truth about why my "father" threw me out, he left me. He said I should go back to my sugar daddy. I had to learn the hard way that being honest was not always a good thing. As destitute and hungry as I was, I had to come up with something fast. A plan that will help me get back on my feet again. I definately couldn't survive on the Ghc559.04 national service monthly allowance. That is chicken Change. National Service was soon to be over in a month anyways. 
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It was a cold night. I sat on the cold tiled floor on the Corridor, Evandy hostel. That was my place of residence during my stay on campus as a student and subsequently, a national service personnel. I thought hard. I thought deep. I knew what I had to do to survive. There were many options and routes available to me though. I lay my cards on the table. The legit and honest ways seemed to be a long route. There were shorter routes I could take,  But they were dishonest, Con plans and ideas. "*uck it!"  Being honest landed me in trouble and left me broken with no one to turn to. I guess it was time to get dirty.

....to be continued.👞👞👞

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