Spare
the rod, spoil the child. True to the saying it also alluded to in the Bible.
Childhood memories cannot be reminisced without factoring in the cane. I am
sure I was a victim on many occasions and sincerely it had to do with my
mischief. As a toddler, I was excited in doing that which I was told not to do.
I don’t know whether it was due to mental amnesia or just the fact that the
forbidden fruit usually tastes sweeter.
My
mother, a strict disciplinarian never entertained any jokes. Till now, residing
upcountry, very few can cross her line. Not even my militaristic grandfather
could calm her nerves down when her tempers did flare up. She is the kind of
lady who did not entertain nonsense. I bet that character has stuck to date.
Her love for hygiene and smartness is also what many admire her. A woman of
dignity, one may think that she did not step in the doors of any school. If she
decided to go ballistic and choleric, not even we her children could stand her,
all and sundry went helter skelter.
That
brief description cannot sum up her character. There is
something about people with such rabid traits. The first thing is to ensure you
don’t cross her line. Pleasing her is also easy. Never exchange words. Let her
do that with someone of equal words. Know what she likes and keep her busy by
telling her stories or engaging her. One thing is that people of this kind are
easy to please and they never get piqued when things are right.
As a tot, I was not
the best of friends with my mom. I remember one time she was teaching me how to
read before I went to class one. It was a terrible day. I was eager to go and
play but she had different plans. She wanted me to read the ‘Hallo Children
book’ whereas I never knew how to read a sentence. That day I was given a dog
beating for not knowing how to read after her. After some few weeks in class
one I was able to read and went back to her with the book to read. I guess the
reason why I was more psyched to read was only to prove to my mum that I was
not that daft.
As
much as my mother was also very meticulous, she was also lenient and loving.
That is expected of a majority of nees. At one time while doing my thing on the
stairway sliding up and down, I fell down. The next time I woke up I was in
bed. At my side was my mum seated there having prayed that her son recuperates
early enough. I did recovered quickly and being that gentle mum, she asked me
what I wanted. I said I wanted some soda and it was immediately bought from the
shop.
My
mother had the requisite experience. She knew most things for someone my age.
There was a time when multiplication was a hard nut to crack and I was almost
in tears. When she enquired and realized that what was disturbing my non
hypothetical brain was simple multiplication, she showed me an easy way. At the
back of the book was simple multiplication for children my age. With that she
cracked the jinx. Later on I crammed the set could even easily divide using the
procedure taught. Maths become so easy.
Guess that’s why I never failed till I finished school.
Trips
were some of those occasions where the eve was a time when insomnia did set in.
My mother knew this and she usually did her best to ensure I was well prepared.
A trip to a place like Nakuru would excite the nerves in me to a point where I
became impatient. That was also true of the other students who could not wait
for the driver to leave the school. Boarders were the worst lot as they
screamed of the prison they were leaving to gain some freedom from the walls
that denied them association with the outside world and movement.
As
rascal, I was also a dare devil. At one point we walked from my place to town
to watch a football match with some older friends. That meant we had to use the
short route. I tried jumping over a fence and my calf bore the brunt as it was
slit by the barbed wire I wanted to jump over. My mum never came to know about
it sooner but after a while she did. There was nothing she could do. Damage had
been done and the marks are still evident. They do remind me of my well
explored childhood.
I
still remember playing marbles and chobo ua. One time I was given a severe
beating to a point where my head became so hot that I felt I was carrying a ton
of a trailer on my head. On another occasion I was playing marbles with my
friends. I had five marbles. The game was such that if you hit an opponent’s
marble thrice the marble became yours. I was a victim. I lost four marbles. I
must admit that was so devastating. I pretended to go to the loo to wipe away
my bulging tears as they were too much for me to hold. Realizing this, friends
gave me back two marbles. At least they were humane as some would have mocked
me even farther for being a cry baby.
My
best moments as a tot were watching Chinese and action movies. They made love
fighting. At one point in lower primary, I was the most feared figure as none
would have attempted to challenge me in a fight. This was compounded by the
fact that physically, I was bigger than most of my mates.
Childhood
is a passing fade, as I look back, I realize that the lies we told the fun we
had and the games we played in a way did shape the character that is ingrained
in us. However much we may deny our current status, the truth is that what one
wanted to become in life is usually achieved.
SITUONANE.
