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Story of the old man

My story begins when white men came and when they had taken me away from my land. I couldn’t understand why I had to go  with them. The white men brought me to the prison. I couldn’t do anything, but that’s the law. At this time I was only  18 years old and I had only seen white men six times in my whole life.

After seven years I came out of prison, but I couldn’t go home, because I would have been killed by the victims relatives or the new husband of my old woman. So I thought what I could do now. After some brawls in some towns, I started to work for a produce store and doing some shearing. The town was awesome and my boss was a good man, too. In this time I maried a half-caste woman. Her english was good and she tried to teach me, but I have never learned how to write or read. I loved my work. I could shout in my own language and I did my job very good, too. Because of that the white men respected me a lot, after a while.

But one day, when my wife and I wqas expecting our fourth child, she died at the birth. That was a very sad day. It felt like I just had the rain, but I learned to love the rain and standing in the rain feels so good. But there were always tears, too. Then I started to drink and I became aggressive and so I put three men in hospital. So I was put in kail again. Luckily the next morning my boss came and got me out. On the way back all people in the town looked at me and I just followed my boss like a dog. In this moment I lost my pride and I gave up. The next years I worked in the store and got drunk everytime I thought of my dead wife. By the way I have never seen my children again.

And now I’m sitting here in the dirt, drinking bottles of wine. The people laugh at me and some guys always steal 20$ from me. They are not afraid of me. Earlier they were, but now I’m not powerful any longer.

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