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.

 

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“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.