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Ta-da. I have finally used this word.
I
have resisted the urge not to give in to the demands of the flesh once more. Yes,
the priest was right, I should repent. But hey, am just a man.
Procrastination.
Only a thorough manager knows how to instill disciple and ensure you never
succumb by constantly putting you on toes whether you pay him or he is paid to
oversee you do your duty.
Digress.
“I will tell on you.” My niece uses this
phrase when she feels aggrieved and thus, will tell those nasty things to her
mom when she comes back.
Me
I was used to “Ntakushtaki kwa mamangu.” Well, the language gap is real. I don’t
remember doing that but there was one time when I ate at the neighbours and my
little sister decided that I was disobeying my mum’s directive of not eating
food from the neighbour’s. You see, the traced me to where I was playing at my
friend’s place and called me to go for lunch. I dilly-dallied and ate at my
friend’s place. My food remained untouched.
Given
that my mum had warned all of us not to eat anywhere apart from our house, she
saw this as an opportunity to see what would happen to me by ‘foolowing’ me to
my mum. She told me on my mum and the strokes I received though a caveat never materialized
because I continued repeating the mistake clandestinely. I guess the lashing I
received worked in sometimes moderating my appetite when am in a new vicinity.
I
really don’t know what was wrong with our mothers during those days. To this
day, I have never found a rationale for why they never wanted us to share meals
with neighbours when we were around the neighbour’s house.
By
the way, back then, the food that was being cooked in our house was never as sumptuous
as that which was being cooked at the neighbours. Walai! It’s not that we never
cooked good food in our house. But, the food outside tasted more delicious than
ours when I was a kid. Hata kama ilikuwa ugali na mboga pekee.
My
mum never used to store canes under her bed like some mothers used to do
because being a cheeky boy I would sneak and steal the damn sticks and throw
them knowing full well that I was the main target.
So,
when she got wind of the fact that I had eaten “Kwa kina Steve” and she had
warned me never to do that again. She resorted to her common phrase, “Thiom
kedi.” And when you came back, she would then say, “Nind piny” after inspecting
the cane. I don’t remember ever taking a substandard cane. As opposed to the
conventional wisdom, she would beat the hell out of you asking leading
questions which you had to answer while crying lugubriously vowing never to
repeat the mistake again.
The
last time my mum did beat me with a cane was probably when I was in class five
or six. I cannot remember very well but when I officially became a teenager, she
resorted to revile as opposed to the rod. But occasionally, being the terror
squad in the house, she would slap the hell out of you unawares when she was
feeling really irked or provoked by your behaviour. Which came once in a blue
moon because during my last years in primary school, I became a boarder and
that meant less stay at home. Hence, I never came into much contact with her
because of the a must ‘holiday tuition’ and the normal school term.
But
I appreciate her because she played her role decisively and although she spent
most of her time in ‘shags’ just like she does nowadays, her role was pivotal.
My old man on the other hand was this easy guy who never saw fault in stuff like eating at the neighbours. Having grown up in shags himself where eating
was communal as opposed to the current state where it is capitalistic, he did
not see any evil in you eating at the neighbour’s. And he probably did cane me
less than three time if I can recall my childhood.
Once
he caned me when I was probably six having developed tantrums by crying ludicrously
but he was more of a gentleman. He would cane you not more than five strokes
and then leave you there. The second time he whipped me, I had been frustrated
that he was only buying my sisters clothes from Uganda and I was not being
bought any. Being the only naughty boy, I decided not to take it lightly when
clothes were bought three times and I was not having any. I pulled the cry
card, unfortunately, it backfired. So, he did it because my mum kept pestering
him to do it.
My
mum was the savage type. She would cane you continuously until her arms got
tired. Of course, after the act, she would be motherly and ensured you
reconciled because she was not the type who liked keeping grudges. She would
then sit you down and ask if what she did was right and you would answer in the
affirmative. Plus, when she became endowed, she would buy you new clothes which
to us was the best thing ever.
But
me, I was like ‘Dennis the Menace’. I loved making trouble more than I loved sticking
to norms. I was the kind who had overactive energy and loved engaging in fistfights
whenever possible. Once there was a certain boy who did beat me and each time the
hood boys who were at the fight saw me after the incident, they would comment, ‘Si
wewe ndio ule kijana ulipigwa kama drum.’ The boy was older and bigger than me. Man ile kuchochwa nilichochwa nipigane naye, ni God tu ndio anajua ka nini nilipata kichapo cha mbwa. Normally, the
little ones did face my wrath and I would beat them out of their senses when
provoked. Even some unlucky bigger 'weakpoints'.
I
remember going to play where I had beaten some two boys, and their mum on
realizing that I was around came out with a broom stick which she used to give me
several strokes because I was constantly beating her two young boys. I went
back home crying thinking my mum would use her “lioness lethal force” on this
neighbour but she ended up doing the opposite.
“Onyali,”
she told me. I stopped crying and went to our bedroom where I did that
snuffling thingy because my mum had warned me not to make any noise in her
house lest she bring the cane for more dosage because she had also warned me
not to go to play outside and I had sneaked.
I
guess the phrase, “spare the rod, spoil the child”, was her mantra. Years
later, when I interacted with my maternal grandmother, I realized she was the
lenient type. She was slow to anger and never did I see her getting as irate as
my mother ever does. To date, my mum still has that aura of ferocity especially
to those she does not hold in high regard. Not that she does anything sinister
but the way she addresses them just tells you how much she thinks of them.
I
now wish that the very whips that I used to get from my mum would whip me into shape,
to stick to the rote even when I am not feeling like. I err countless times I
gave up on abiding by rota. I know the number of times I have departed from one
in the recent past. It’s hard saying you will stick to doing some stuff because you might stray in the middle of it like I normally do. I have strayed doing many things mpaka huwa
najiuliza kama ‘am serious with life’. But it’s never that serious.
Hasta
La Vista Baby.
[Picture
Source: My Own]
