
To passers-by, this was luggage. To Awal, it was his destiny wrapped in a box, carried on his shoulder.
What he once called homeland is now a stretch of empty hopes he’s given up chasing. Initially, when the idea of abandoning his shop first occured to him, he thought it was his impatience speaking to him as usual.
This time, there was no mistake about it. It was inner flashlight. He’s got to go somewhere conducive to the growth of his dreams. The economy has shot down all his hopes. He’ll be no victim of bad governance.
He’s got no destination in mind. He’ll figure it all out when he meets Seidu. Seidu has got to help him. Or, what were friends for?
Before Awal’s business died an unnatural death, it coughed out part of his initial investment. As he trekked down Symphony Square, he wondered if the journey Seidu spoke of was worth the risks and the money involved.
