Before the city stirs, before the first bus honks or the coffee shops open, I am already awake 🌞. While most are still wrapped in dreams, I’m on the streets, broom in hand, sweeping what no one sees, picking up what the world discards, so that the day ahead may feel a little cleaner, a little brighter ✨🧹.
People rush past. Some cross the street without a glance. Others bury their eyes in their phones. A few notice me briefly, and most don’t. To many, I am invisible, just part of the pavement I sweep 🏙️. Yet behind the broom is a life: a family waiting for me, bills that won’t pay themselves, dreams paused for survival, and a little boy at home proudly saying, “My father keeps the city clean.” 💛Yes, my hands ache. My feet are sore. Some days I feel the weight of the world more than the broom in my hands. But I am still here, rising early, facing the dust, the sun, the rain, so that others can walk safely, comfortably, without a second thought 🌟.
I don’t ask for applause. I don’t need recognition. What I hope for is a simple nod, a warm smile, a quiet ‘thank you’, or a soft prayer whispered as you pass 💛🙏. Small gestures ripple farther than anyone knows — they remind me that my work, my existence, matters.
Next time you see a gari sweeping your street, remember: behind that orange uniform, there’s a story of sacrifice, resilience, and quiet dignity. There’s a life shaped by love, responsibility, and unwavering commitment to a better world — one street at a time 🧹✨.