Part 3: The Sea That Took Him
The boat was plastic, blue, full of holes. They said it was for 20 people. We were 47.
Joseph looked at me and smiled weakly. “This is it, Aisha. Europe is just behind the water.”
I nodded, but my stomach turned.
The sea was angry. Waves like walls. Wind like screaming children.
After 4 hours, the motor stopped. The boat drifted. People panicked. A small child started crying.
Joseph said, “Hold tight. Don’t scream. Just stay down.”
A man tried to jump. He fell in. Another followed.
Then… a light. A ship. Far away.
People screamed, waved, cried.
Joseph stood up, shouted, “HERE! PLEASE!”
The ship turned. They were coming.
But a wave hit us hard. The boat turned left. People fell.
I lost Joseph’s hand. I screamed his name.
A strong arm pulled me out. Someone from the rescue ship.
I was shaking. Wet. Cold. Safe.
But Joseph… wasn’t there.
I waited. One hour. Two. All names called. Not his.
A rescue worker came to me.
“We found a boy. Ghana ID. He drowned helping someone.”
My world stopped.
I held his scarf. The one I gave him in Libya.
I arrived in Italy. But I never felt home again.
..............
Now, I live in a small room in Naples. I clean hotel rooms. I send money home.
I smile in the mirror, but I’m not smiling inside.
I still hear Joseph’s voice. I still dream of the desert.
We wanted a better life. But sometimes, the price is too high.
_____
#foryou
#realstory
#konnectreads
#YouNeedToReadThis #ThePriceOfHope #TrueButUnbelievable #AfricaSpeaks
#MigrationJourney
#AfricanYouth
#SurvivalStory
#BrokenDreams
#TrueLife
#HopeAndLoss
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11 hrs agoPart 3: The Sea That Took Him
The boat was plastic, blue, full of holes. They said it was for 20 people. We were 47.
Joseph looked at me and smiled weakly. “This is it, Aisha. Europe is just behind the water.”
I nodded, but my stomach turned.
The sea was angry. Waves like walls. Wind like screaming children.
After 4 hours, the motor stopped. The boat drifted. People panicked. A small child started crying.
Joseph said, “Hold tight. Don’t scream. Just stay down.”
A man tried to jump. He fell in. Another followed.
Then… a light. A ship. Far away.
People screamed, waved, cried.
Joseph stood up, shouted, “HERE! PLEASE!”
The ship turned. They were coming.
But a wave hit us hard. The boat turned left. People fell.
I lost Joseph’s hand. I screamed his name.
A strong arm pulled me out. Someone from the rescue ship.
I was shaking. Wet. Cold. Safe.
But Joseph… wasn’t there.
I waited. One hour. Two. All names called. Not his.
A rescue worker came to me.
“We found a boy. Ghana ID. He drowned helping someone.”
My world stopped.
I held his scarf. The one I gave him in Libya.
I arrived in Italy. But I never felt home again.
..............
Now, I live in a small room in Naples. I clean hotel rooms. I send money home.
I smile in the mirror, but I’m not smiling inside.
I still hear Joseph’s voice. I still dream of the desert.
We wanted a better life. But sometimes, the price is too high.
_____
#foryou
#realstory
#konnectreads
#YouNeedToReadThis #ThePriceOfHope #TrueButUnbelievable #AfricaSpeaks
#MigrationJourney
#AfricanYouth
#SurvivalStory
#BrokenDreams
#TrueLife
#HopeAndLoss