KING QAKGWA

There’s a brother of mine that I’ve been talking with once in a while. We don’t stay far from each other, but we hardly see each other. When we do get to see each other we have all types of talks, mostly about the influence that money has on us and as a society and the outcomes of not having money or having money. We both on ground level “hustling” entrepreneurship phase in our lives, we both dropped out of school and have plenty of dreams we want to reach and often talk about how time is on our side to achieve everything we want to do.

One of us is rational and the other is irrational, either way, it is what it is when the only way to put food on the table, buy clothes, afford bad habits and taking care of people you live with, family, is by washing cars and being a car guard at the same time.

The last time I saw this brother of mine was Friday around 09:00, we bumped into each other, he asked me about some pictures I took of him and his friends a while back. Some how they got deleted, so I took a couple of pictures of him and his friend on the spot. He was on his way to work, as we bumped fists to part ways I said thank you king, he said long live king. Awe. Monday morning around 11:30, I’m walking, headsets loud listening to 2Pac, a young kid stops me, “holla king”, I took off my headsets,”sho”. I wanted ┬áto tell you that Qakgwa is dead, the kid said, you know Qakgwa, you took pictures of us on Friday the kid continued.

You see, I knew who he was but I didn’t know his name, I knew his dreams but I didn’t know his name. I knew his struggle but I didn’t know his name.

I asked the kid what happened., the kid responded with a soft voice, “he got stabbed by his brother”. Family.