“Bakari!” I shouted.
“What?” he called back.
He had been better for several days now. The television appeal had also been a success. A couple called Christine and Gregory Maidstone had sent enough money for us to buy a small apartment and there was still lots left over. I knew we had to thank them for all they had done for us so I brought Bakari over to a table. On it was a pen and some paper.
“We need to write them a letter: to tell them how happy we are,” I told Bakari firmly.
“But we can't write!” he protested.
“We'll just do our best,” I said “I hope they appreciate it.”We settled down to write and soon there was a rather messy message scrawled over the paper. I knew it wasn't neat but hopefully the Maidstones would realise that we had never been to school to learn how to write properly.
Later that day the letter was addressed and sent to England with a first class stamp. I hoped that it would arrive the following day and that we might even get a reply. I waited one day; one more but there was no letter back.
YOU ARE READING
Sunburn
Teen FictionMy name is Amali Ashanti and I've lived in poverty in Africa as long as I can remember; but only because my dad died. Join me, my brother Bakari and my mum, Chiwa as we face our lives on the cruel hard ground that having no money brings.
