Growing up, I always felt the weight of shame every time someone mentioned our home. It was a shaky mud house with cracked walls, patched holes, and an old leaking roof that couldn’t survive a heavy night of rain.
When visitors came, we all silently prayed they wouldn’t judge us, but the whispers and laughter from the village always found their way to our ears. Some people even used our home as an example when warning their children: “If you don’t work hard, you will end up like that family.” As painful as it was, we learned to live with humiliation.…CONTINUE READING
