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Africa Broke Us. Europe Didn’t Save Us.

General 10 hrs ago
  • Amara
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    Part 1 : The Dream That Wouldn't Die

    My name is Aisha. I am 18, from a small dusty village near Bamako, Mali. I used to sit on the roof at night and watch the stars. Sometimes, I imagined one of them was Europe.

     

    Joseph was from Ghana. He was 22, with sharp eyes and a quiet voice. We met in a Facebook group called “Africa to Europe — real ways.” We talked every day for five months.

     

    He said, “I don’t want to be rich. I just want to live like others. Peace, light, work, food.”

    I smiled. “Me too.”

     

    In my village, we had no electricity after 10pm. Water came twice a week. My mother worked 14 hours washing clothes for rich families. My father had died in a bus accident when I was 12.

     

    One day, Joseph texted:

    “Aisha, I have a plan. We can go together. Mali to Burkina to Niger. Then Libya. Then... Europe.”

     

    My hands shook. I was scared. But I also felt alive.

     

    I packed a small bag: two dresses, my father’s old scarf, and a photo of Mama.

     

    I wrote her a letter:

    “I love you. I will come back stronger. I want to give you a real house, Mama.”

     

    I met Joseph in Sikasso. He held my hand and said,

    “We walk now. No turning back.”

     

     

     

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    #YouNeedToReadThis #ThePriceOfHope #TrueButUnbelievable #AfricaSpeaks

    #YouNeedToReadThis  

    #TrueButUnbelievable  

    #ThisBrokeMyHeart  

    #StoriesTheyDontTellYou  

    #YouWontForgetThis  

    #OneStoryOneTear  

    #ReadTillTheEnd  

    #RealPeopleRealPain  

    #WhatWouldYouDo  

    #AfricaSpeaks  

    #HeDidntMakeIt 

     

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