Dope Mother

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“My sweet children,” Mwanaisha told her children, “Work and read all the time. Do not be like me. You can’t salvage me. I am a goner.”

“Mama, don’t say that,” Mwajuma, her eldest daughter, said. “We can’t watch you…”

“Mwajuma, how many times have I told you to leave me alone?” Mwanaisha’s hackles were beginning to rise. It was the effect of the drug she had taken. She could no longer control herself. “Leave me alone, it is my life.”

She was twelve when she was first introduced to drugs. They used to make her feel hyper, on top of the world. They opened a new world for her, a world she’d never known existed; the world of sex and fantasy. All what she could show of the shenanigans that accompanied were her three daughters whose fathers she had no idea who and or where they were.

But thank God they were not like her. Her parents had whisked them away from her when they knew of her situation. They were getting the best upbringing and education. Since she was hustled into the Centre from the Hospital she was doing better, and her daughters were allowed to visit her. That was good. However, the best part of it was that she still had her constant supply of methamphetamine hydrochloride, meth in the streets, the new drug in town.

“Are you happy living here? This way…?”

The expression that crossed Mwanaisha’s face swallowed the words her daughter was about to say.

Guess visit time was over!

Copyright ©Vincent de Paul, 2013.

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