the life of a laborer

The Life of a LaborerBy: George HawatBy: George Hawat

• We were born to work, serving others, my mother, my father and

my sisters and brothers.

• We had no government to care, without a penny to spare. We were laborers, among many, we all weren’t treated fair.

• We wanted justice and we wanted our say. We regret the day that we

had arrived at Botany Bay.

• We worked for hours, non stop. My mother always carried the bucket

and mop.

• I woke up on day and guess what I found, my parents lying there on the ground. They were goners, but I didn’t make a sound.

• Of course I was sad but I didn’t cry. Somehow I knew this was coming

but didn’t know why.

• I was beginning to think of what would happen to me, would I keep on

working, would I be sold, would I ever be free.

• I was taken to mine gold and was only 10 years old, I hated the fact

that we all got sold.

• We were separated, never to see each other again. Perhaps we could

meet each other if we ever became free men.

• The days had passed, I wish I could say they’d gone fast. Reminiscing

the days that I had seen my family last.

• On one warm day all the clouds were grey, I felt my soul was crawling

away. I fell to ground and put on a grin, I knew… it was time. I could see a bright light in front of me and new straight away, I was gonna be free.

The End