Friday, 21 July 2023

IT'S JUST A BALL

One fine Christmas afternoon, we're home, huko mashinani. Adults seated on a mat under a mango tree just talking. There's a game of football going on among the kids. Now my kids are the youngest that side of the family we're on and I realise the older kids aren't passing them the ball as much as mine would like. I don't intervene because sometimes I let them fight their own battles...build character and all that stuff.

Well my oldest, gentle soul that boy, he walks off the "pitch" because he is not enjoying himself. On such occasions, if you ask him, he'll just tell you that "it's not fun"...if it's something I really want him to participate in, I'll give him a pep talk and if he decides to go back I'll be cheering him on. If he opts to sit it out, it's okay, we live to fight another day.

Now, my youngest, little ninja that he is...he just stood there. I'm his mother, so I can tell he's got something planned. I can literally see the gears in his little mind turning. Kumbe the young man knows, one way or the other, that ball is going to come his way, and so...he stands there and waits, patiently. And the ball does indeed come his way, so what does he do? He bends down and picks it up then walks away. Everyone is calling to him to bring the ball back so they can carry on with their game, he doesn't even bother responding, and he's got this little swagger to his walk when he's determined...it's lovely to watch really. The way he throws his legs in front of himself with purpose, stuff of my dreams as a mother!

Anyways, he goes some way off where his grandfather is sitting...under a different tree watching his clan play. He drops the ball to the ground and plops down next to it...all this time, still no word spoken. Then he picks another toy I hadn't even realised he'd left there and plays with it all on his own. Game ended, effective immediately.

Here's the thing, his grandfather does not allow anyone to touch him, including yours truly...and he knows it. He figured it out at the tender age of 2. What's the catch? He tells on everyone to him, his grandmother, his aunts, his dad and even me...you do something, anything and he will rush to tell on you. We served tea outside one afternoon when the grandfather was in the house and he rushed in to tell him “they are eating without you outside!” Let’s not get into how that went from there. Thank God the grandmother was part of the tea drinking initiave otherwise now how do you get yourself out of that one. I can't even imagine the embarrassment.

What am I trying to say? Kids are different. Every parent will tell you that every single opportunity they get. Sometimes you'll wonder if they gave you a different baby when you were living the hospital just by how different their personalities are from your other kid(s), don't worry though…chances are, that is your baby. But you will never really get it until you have kids of your own. Actually, nothing really prepares you for being a parent to your kids, doesn't matter what powerful parenting coaching class you attend. Doesn't matter also if you birth them yourself or you go the adoption way, whichever way you decide to have your children...you'll always feel like uko trial and error. But that's a whole different story, let's save it for another day.

Saturday, 15 July 2023

THE SCHOOL DRIVER

THE SCHOOL DRIVER

A few weeks back I watched a reel on TikTok (and no, mimi si GenZ): a mother gets called that a strange man picks her daughter from school every day, and it was not her dad. The shock!! And I can relate, I can’t imagine being told that a stranger has been walking my kid home from school!! Sasa ongeza hapo “strange man” and “daughter”…and I would just die before I verified the story. Anyway, she asks for proof and they send a photo of the man, turns out it’s her, without her wig!! Heartbreak 💔💔...okay? Now apart from empathizing with her, I figure…that’s her story. Until last week, I got my own version.


So, my boys use school transport i.e. school bus. On some occasions I have had the opportunity to take them to board the school bus in the morning, and sometimes when they get dropped at the gate after school in the afternoon, pick them up. On those occasions I have met the driver, we chat for a few minutes as we wait for the neighbour’s kid to be brought out of their gate and into the bus. For some reason they always bring him out last, sometimes the driver has to hoot to threaten them to bring out the boy. We're friends that guy, he asks how my boys are doing even though he has seen them get on the bus. Or so I thought.


Morning pickups happen at around 7.00 to 7.15am and if I'm taking them to the bus, I’m probably not going to work, so I’ll be in a Dera, hair still in my sleeping cap, eyes swollen and titties all flat (the soldiers fell y’all…they just fell like they have no hope of rising ever again!). Why were they flat in the morning…because who wears a bra to bed?


Last week Friday however, July 7th to be precise, I’m running late. Well, not really because I know there’s Saba Saba Maandamano and there’ll be little to no traffic so…a girl’s cutting it really close time-wise.


School bus gets here at 7.20, see, they are running late too! Just as I was getting out of the house. So me, the boys and their Auntie (my cousin that I live with) let’s call her M…she is a private person, we all troop out of the house. M’s holding the boys’ bags and opening the gate, I’m holding my laptop bag, my lunch bag, keys and the boys’ hands. I’m a mother so somehow I can manage this fete…it is possible.


Anyway, M opens the gate and comes back to get the boys. I’m standing at the gate just watching them get on the bus and shouting “BYE!” because I know my eldest doesn’t like it…apparently it’s ‘embawassing’ but I’m his mother so why not?


The driver says something to M as she’s walking back. I don’t catch it because I’m standing some way off and the wind is not carrying to my side (elewa kizungu, me that’s how we say it in my mother’s house). M is now walking back towards me and she can’t stop laughing. I’m like what could be so funny, so I ask her because she was giving me this look that was just begging me to ask. Yeah, shouldn’t have done that!

 

She tells me y’all… “The driver says he’s never met Mama Toto!” In case, you haven’t figured it out yet, Mama Toto here is me!!

 

SAY WHAAAT!

 


What does this guy even mean? I mean, I was chatting with this guy outside the same gate as recently as two weeks back!! So who does he think he has he been talking to all this time?! Okay, just one official dress and braids pulled into a bun and somehow, I look different? Apparently so different that he couldn’t recognize me? I thought we were close me and that guy? We had a whole system going and it worked. I call him when any of the boys isn’t going to school for any reason and I can’t get a hold of their teachers, I HAVE HIS NUMBER AND HE HAS MINE!!

 

Or maybe it was the bra (the girls were up and standing) I was wearing a bra after all that morning!!

HEART OF A LION

HEART OF A LION

There was a time in life, when I could write. I had quite the imagination that time, and so write I did. And it helped that I had a teacher who wanted to clone another Chinua Achebe, those good old days...and so teach me she did. And to be a good writer, one has to dream, and I dreamt big. I have been everything I ever wanted to be in this life...I have lived several lives, in my dreams. Except for one...


Hhhmm...heart of a lion, that's what I want. Not to satisfy my insatiable appetite for meat, no! I want it for that one life my mind has not been able to live as yet. You see, it's rumored to be the smallest heart, matters size. Apparently, for all their glory, lions have a tiny heart, I while I have not proved the truth of that statement ( I mean I have to see it with  my own two eyes), I want it. Why? Because there are things I want to do in this life that I want to live, that I can only do with a smaller heart. Things like what, you ask. So, okay then, here's the three main ones.


One, I want to jump off a cliff. I want jump off a cliff...and live. No bungee jumping, no restraints, no nothing really...just one clean ass jump off a very high cliff. Something tells me that by the time I land, I will have let go of a million little things. But to do so, I need an extra life. A cat has nine lives, a lion is a cat...so you see.


Second, and inspired by very recent incidents, I want to meet a random guy...have the best sex of my life, and then lose his number. I want it to be so good...no, I need it to be soo, sooo very good because after that, this shop's gonna close. I'll get into this secondary virginity stuff for about a year or two, assuming I can make it that long. Maybe even check into a convent, see what goes on in there, and if they accept me and my kids...well who knows, I might even stay.

 

Why do I need a lion's heart for this? I made a new friend recently, and he feels it signifies courage. That its significance is not on the size, but on what it can do. Now I'm sure he did not intend to encourage me to have random sex, no, that's all on me. But I need the courage from this heart to actualise my intent, be a pornstar for a night. And I need the size of this heart, so it's small enough to not have space to give a rats behind to what society will say about my actions.

 

Last but not least (been a while😊)...I need the courage to walk. To walk into my change. To walk into this new me that I have evolved into over the years...and even though I have accepted her, without question I might add, the courage to really embrace her and grow into her. To walk into my own forgiveness for the things I have done that my conscience did not agree with, of the decisions I have made in, over and about my life that did not work out well for me. I need courage to walk away from hurt...hurt that I may have inflicted on myself or let others inflict on me. To walk away from the negative aspects of my past and how that negativity may have affected how I have lived my life this far.


Oh, yes! I'm a mother now...of two boys. And these two tiny fellas, they are quite something. There's always a competition happening in my house...ranging from just any other every day fight (because apparently boys can't live a day without getting physical with each other), pee projectile (who can aim highest and furthest) to who let out the loudest and stinkiest fart...I kid you not!! And they'll be laughing about it. I've learnt to just shake my head and let them be. I even referee some of them, and in case of disputes arising from the results, I'm also expected to sit as a very impartial judge.

 

So I need to walk into more love...more love of myself so I can love my children more and better. Love of what is around me, so I can be more accepting of my current reality and be able to change and build it into the reality that I have always dreamt for myself.


And lastly, I need courage to walk out when it is only right that I do so.