My name is Cynthia and this is my story. I’m from a Christian family, we are not so strict about going to church though. We are three girls and I am the eldest. My dad worked for a company where he was one of the senior employees, and the pay was okay to take care of us all. We were happy and everything was going great. We all went to school, dad to work and mum would be at home taking care of the house.
Later, the company my dad worked for went bankrupt and most of the top employees were laid off including my father. It was a shock and financial blow to our family. We knew from then on that things would be tough because my dad would be jobless and broke.
Afew months later, after trying to get another job, he finally found something in a factory and would work shifts. It was not a good jub like what he was used to, but it was something. The pay wasn’t enough to care for the family, so he went and got another job and would work the two jobs to try and suppost our family. He was never around, always going from one shift to another. But despite working so much he somehow still owed people alot of money, he had depts everywhere. And when he was not working he was drinking. Most times, he came home drunk giving the excuse,“I went to hang out with a couple of friends and they got me drunk.” He started coming home with little or no money. My mum was unable to work because she had health issues so we all depended on our father.
I somehow got through school, mostly on borrowed money. I had just finished my college and I could not get a job that would pay me enough to care for my family. I sometimes ran errands for some friend’s parents or some of my father’s friends so that I could get a few dollars to care for my family. I got to meet some of my fathers friends who were doing well financially but were not willing to give any help. By now things were etting worse at home financially, my dad stopped coming home. At times we did not see him for weeks, God knows where he went.
I met one of my dad’s friend, Mr Richard and desperately told him my story and how dad has been behaving.He told me he could help me and said I should come and work for him for a few hours, 4 times a week as a maid, keeping the whole house clean and its’ surrounding. He said he was going to pay me $100 per week. It was not much but i knew I could still make use of it to care for my siblings. So I agreed and started working for him in his big house. I worked diligently and I would get home tired and exhausted.
I never got paid for my work for the time i was there. One day, Mr. Richard my dad’s friend, told me to go to a bar in the evening to collect my money from someone who owed him. He told me what he would be wearing and said if I get there, I would know him.
When I got to the bar, I saw the man meeting the description of what Mr. Richard told me sitting, down on one of the wooden bar stools facing the bartender. I approached him and sat next to him and faced him. When he looked up I was shocked to see that the person, who has not been home to see his family for weeks, is seated next to me in the bar. Turns out it was my father who owed Mr. Richard. I couldn’t control my emotions, I tried to suppress the tears that were welling up in my eyes but they still rolled down my cheeks. He looked tattered, like someone who has been out of work for months. He was smelling of alcohol and was equally shocked to see me.
He asked me how I got to know he would be there. I told him it was Mr. Richard that sent me to collect money from someone who owed him and that if I get here I would recognize him. I could see his surprise, when he finally asked me why Mr Richard sent me, I didn’t answer because I was so enraged towards him. I looked him straight in the eye and asked if he had the money with him but turned away and said “no”. I wasn’t expecting much from him looking the way he did. He surely did not look like someone who had $500 let alone $2000. I stood up to leave, but he held my hand, looked me in the eye and said, “be careful of Mr. Richard”. I nodded my head and left. My anger didn’t allow me to ask him questions. I was bothered by the fact that he didn’t even bother to ask how my siblings or his wife were doing.