The African child .......... Part 1

I am a black child born to black parents of the black race. I grew up knowing that life can be tough and challenging. Everyday survival was hard work and sometimes a game of chance, once in a while mother luck looked upon one and the day is more profitable than previous ones. However, getting food on the table and shelter to live in, proved to be difficult. Not to mention having items of clothing to wear.

My father was a farmer, (what I now know to be subsistence farming). Others called him a peasant farmer,my mother sometimes  wove baskets in front of the house in the evenings and at other times she sold pottery at the market amidst loud women chatter and raucous laughter. Although she was a quiet woman.

My mother was a dark woman,  the type people refer to as black and shine (adu ma dan), and what I now know to be ebony black. She was also very slim, and surprisingly after 6 of us, still had a figure almost equal to 8, but for the bulging roundness in her mid section which bore witness to the 6 different times she has carried a child in there.
She kept to herself most of the time, and I never really could pin point any other woman she was close to, apart from the black smith's wife, who took particular  Interest in her and in us, and went out of her way to look after us when mother was away............. To be continued.