Everyone knew who Fred was, but they didn’t seem afraid. He was no longer a robber.
“It was very challenging to someone like me,” Fred said. “I had no school, I didn’t have any course. I don’t have anything to do. I left my school from level three. So it was very very stupid of me to start looking for jobs or work. I don’t have papers. So I started doing small small business. Small small small.”
He had a shop, but it was mostly empty. One day, he said, he would fill it with goods, and be a store owner. The door was purple, and the sign painting man had painted the name of the store in white letters. FREDY AND SONS.
He was also trying to start a club. He had saved up 80 dollars, which was a small fortune, and he gave it to a man who promised to take the bus to the Central Business District to buy liquor for Fred’s club. As we were walking somewhere, he got a call. Suddenly he crashed into a mud wall. After some time, he told me that his money was gone, and no liquor was coming.
“How?” I asked him. “What happened?” He just looked at the sky.
“Me I don't smoke weed. I don’t drink alcohol. And people, even my parents they normally ask questions. How do I survive without using all of these things? My younger brother is using these things. My elder brother is using these things.”
Fred examined a pair of kid’s shoes, looking at them from every angle. A mad man walked by, with a big scar on his head.