And the story continues....

I was such a rough kid, am just amazed at how God saved me. We would carry each other on the shoulders yet we were all kids and most of the time I fell and hit my head so almost daily I had a swollen forehead. I would shower and rush to bed before mum came home so that she doesn’t see. The house help or my sister would always tell on me and I would be woken up and first beaten for falling, then the swollen bump would be rubbed with a hot cloth or ‘Robb’. Boy was that painful!!

We would play a game called ‘Cha mama and cha baba’ translated to Mum and Dad. Being the leader that I was, I would insist on playing the dad, daughter, cousin, uncle as many roles just to show that I am in charge. I took my bad habits to school too and in class I would work hard to emerge the top especially in Math. I was too competitive. 

On the other hand, my sister Grace was too quiet. She would rarely play outside. She was always in the house with the dolls, making dresses for them, helping to cook in the kitchen. Once she fried ‘Ugali’ with cooking oil and sugar. Well it was sweet but seriously, how do you do that? She always thought she could play mum with me and quarrel me when I come home late from playing and go to the extent of beating me up. That always ended up in a fight which would stop when we are both crying and the house help would come and separate us. Then of course we’d go for days without talking and she would break the silence because my pride could not allow.

All this time my brother was away living with my uncle because it was near his school and he would come to visit once in a while. I remember the day he brought me a pyjama outfit he had made during ‘Home Science’ class. I was forced to sleep in that tight pyjama until it finally got torn, freedom!

He also taught me my first dance moves, telling me to dance to no music and watch me while laughing. It was hilarious, well now that I think of it but then it was serious business and a giggle would have cost me.

I vividly remember my dad. He was tall, dark and handsome. He would come home anytime of the day and if he found me outside playing, pick me up and carry me home. He then made me sit on his lap and ask me to tell him how my day was. Then he would reach to his pocket and remove for me ‘Patco’, a sweet. I do not recall him ever quarreling me even once. Then all of a sudden, this other man comes along and loves me just as dad loved me, bring me gifts and at least I knew his names. He was very much around and I remember him more to the extent that I thought he was my dad! A few years down the line I was told he was my uncle, mum’s brother and what confused me was the fact that they shared the first name with my dad. 

So my sister Grace started becoming rare too. I finally met one of my big sisters, actually the third born as she often came home to pick Grace and take her to hang out with her children and her friend’s children while I was left with mum, who was hardly home. So the neighborhood sort of raised me to some extent. I spent my time at my best friend’s house or playing with the boys. I taught myself to ride a bike, in fact the first bike I rode was a mountain bike and I was 6 or 7 years old. I could not sit and peddle at the same time so I would ride without sitting.

Now onto the weird part of my childhood, well if what I have said so far isn’t weird enough. Here it goes; I enjoyed going to view dead bodies!! WEIRD, I know. We would be told that so and so died in the next block and the body is outside for viewing. Boy would I run to see that body. Once I viewed this guy who used to be a thief and was stoned to death. He had stitches all over his face. That was gross. Most of the people who died I knew them because they were either a friend’s brother or sister, or they were people I recognized in the neighborhood. So to answer your question, I would never have nightmares or anything of the sort.