Chapter one
It can only go up from here," words laced with venom and lies like they were uttered by a black mamba. It was my first week in Valera, a dark damp slum in the west of ireland. It was a slum that attracted poverty-stricken folk and undesirables alike. It stooped and curved like the neck of a Brachiosaurus and was not welcoming of gardai. I lay, stiff as a board on my metal bed. Hanging above me was all my wardrobe. Just a few shirts and just a few pants. The walls of my room were concrete, cracked and grey. My only kitchen appliances were my microwave and mini-fridge. Beside my bed was a plastic table and chair and in the corner next to it was my guitar. Streaking down my cheeks were tears of regret and frustration, just a year ago I was living a comfortable life in Dublin. I sighed and wiped the tears from my face before rolling out of bed. I perused the clothes that hung above my bed, I liked to pretend that my wardrobe was a shop and I was window shopping. It helped me feel better about my situation. Finally I picked out an orange polo and cargo shorts and construction boots.
My room opened up to a dank, damp and cramped corridor. Murky water dripped from the ceiling of the corridor. I should really get an umbrella. Graffiti coated the colourful but dirty walls of the corridor and vermin and insects skittered and jittered. I strolled slowly through the corridor, inhaling and resenting the public toilet-like smell. Descending a rickety few steps I reached the exit. The door was metal and rusty and it creaked when I swung it open. I was met with head-rattling commotion, you could hear it from the corridor but I wasn't paying attention. Outside the atmosphere had a grey tint and the air was heavy with pollutants. I looked around, my eyes locked on the bags of trash and the ramshackled shacks and the multiple drug dealings happening in broad daylight, I was disgusted. With haste I made my way to a Filipino eating house. The eating house was built from tin and six chairs were lined out before it. I sat down in the middle chair.
"Yo Obi I already have the bibingka prepared since I know that's the only thing you eat," chuckled the owner. He was a short Filipino man with a fat face and he wore a blue jumpsuit.
"Actually I think I'm gonna switch it up today, Roberto," I replied with a ghost of a smile.
"You choose this day of all days to order something different!" He exclaimed with a hearty laugh. My smile strengthened and said "don't worry I'm joking," and Roberto replied with mock relief before sliding me a container with a pie-looking thing inside. "My spork?" Roberto slid me a fork. "We're out of sporks," I sighed and began eating. Roberto was one of my closest friends despite us only interacting when I was hungry, he knew how to make me feel good and not just with his cooking. "You got a job yet bro?" asked Roberto out of the blue, "I'm planning to try and get one tomorrow," I replied. After I finished my meal I paid and gave the spork and container to Roberto and left. I travelled just a few blocks down from Roberto's and reached a phone shop constructed from miscellaneous materials. In the front of the shop there was a glass display with various devices behind it. Spread across the top of the display was a sign saying 'thabo's tech'. Entering the shop I asked the shopkeeper for thabex top-up. The shopkeeper nodded and retired to a backroom. While he was gone I examined the shop. It was small and covered in phones and laptops and gaming consoles. There was a small counter where paid and it too was overrun with electronic devices. A short time passed and the shopkeeper returned and passed me a receipt with his left hand wrapped around his wrist, it was the polite way to gift someone something for South Africans. I paid and left. When I left I noticed a man I recognised approaching 'thabo's tech'. He was a pale and pasty man. "Shane!" I called with a smile. The man called back "man, Obi!" When we were close enough we embraced each other. "So where ye headed now?" he enquired
"I'm going to the outhouses and the showers," I replied
"I was just there,"
"Well I'll see you around ye." Shane nodded and entered 'thabo's tech'
The outhouse was a large brick building with rows of stone, non-flush toilets. In the outhouse you were expected to bring your own toilet paper and since there was no toilet paper in Valera you were expected to bring your own old newspaper. The smell in the outhouse was similar to the smell of Valera except the outhouse smell was amplified by 100. I quickly did my business before walking to the showers. The walk was short and fairly pleasant. The showers was a building akin to the outhouse, however, instead of toilets it was filled with small cells with buckets of water and sponges. Beside it was a tin shack where you left your clothes in a locker. I entered the showers and washed myself as quickly as I could as locker theft was common. Unlike most people I had taken the initiative to keep my phone and wallet on my person, I learned to do that after the disaster on my first day.