the life of a laborer
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The Life of a LaborerBy: George HawatBy: George Hawat
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• We were born to work, serving others, my mother, my father and
my sisters and brothers.
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• We had no government to care, without a penny to spare. We were laborers, among many, we all weren’t treated fair.
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• We wanted justice and we wanted our say. We regret the day that we
had arrived at Botany Bay.
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• We worked for hours, non stop. My mother always carried the bucket
and mop.
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• 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.
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• Of course I was sad but I didn’t cry. Somehow I knew this was coming
but didn’t know why.
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• 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.
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• I was taken to mine gold and was only 10 years old, I hated the fact
that we all got sold.
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• We were separated, never to see each other again. Perhaps we could
meet each other if we ever became free men.
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• The days had passed, I wish I could say they’d gone fast. Reminiscing
the days that I had seen my family last.
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• 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.
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The End