Kuto’s life was filled with revulsion. Every day, he would wake up and see the poverty and filth that surrounded him. He would see children begging for food, and adults fighting over scraps. It was all so unfair. Kuto had always been a good person; he tried to help others whenever he could. But it seemed like no matter what he did, the world just kept getting worse.
One day, Kuto decided enough was enough. He packed his bags and left Zambia for good. He didn’t know where he was going, but anywhere had to be better than here.
As Kuto walked through the streets of his hometown one last time, something caught his eye. A black cyclist cap lay in the gutter, covered in dirt and grime. For some reason, Kuto felt drawn to it; maybe because it looked so out of place amongst all the filth (or maybe because it reminded him of his own dark hair color). Whatever the reason, Kuto picked up the cap and put it on his head before continuing on his journey