This story is my first
story
so i want everybody
to be patient with me.
What really motivate me
to starting dis storywas
the death of a hero NELSON MANDELA Who i happened
to share
d same birtday with.

***This Story is a fiction***

Born on the 18th of july 19** in certain country of the black
african continent.
Born to the family of Mr/Mrs Thomas mandela, i was the first born in the family of four.
The name of my siblings are ,Martin,Matthew,Peter,Christiana. Did i forget to tell you that we were in the colonia era
Things werent easy for my family, i was the only one who was able to attend a school. Did i just said a school, well it was a place provided for the black children to learn how to read and write.
it was made of bamble and a tatched room , while the one occupied by the white children was made of bricks, ironshit, it was what i called the best

Back then in our community, discrimination was in it highest pick, after learning under our tatched house, an exam was conducted and only five of us was given the privilede to enter into form 1 in school provided for the white children. It was a great achivement which increase my rank among my local folks. It was at that time that my eye began to see life in it right way. I was able to see the injustice been melted out to my own people on their own land. The back seat was reserve for ur, and we were order to always w3ar a hand glove to avoid contact with the white kid