The Childhood Memories that we Cherish

Childhood Memories

‘Bring it back like TBT’ Octopizzo’s song. For those of us who have heard of it but don’t know the meaning. It’s Throwback Thursday. So many memories and dreams not yet achieved up to now.Remember those times when our teachers used to ask, what do you want to be when you grow up? I always had the same answer till class 7 when adolescence and my bushy attitude mixed and turned me into a bigger fool.

Remember those times when our teachers used to ask, what do you want to be when you grow up? I always had the same answer till Class 7 when adolescence and my bushy attitude mixed and turned me into a bigger fool.

I replied, “I want to be a gynecolo…” the rest was up to the teacher to finish it. Such a big word standing for a woman doctor. It didn’t add up, a doctor was enough but when I heard doctors wash corps. Waaah! I had to look for something reasonable in the dictionary. My teacher gave me a gift because I was thinking like a mature woman which is ironical. I used to see myself as a doctor sitting in the office just waiting to listen to women problems.

That’s a dream hehe. Then my mum became pregnant without my knowledge until I saw my younger brother during the baby shower. I was the last person in nine months to find out my mum was pregnant with a brown skin boy whom by now looks nothing like his birth pictures, funny how people change. And still I wanted to be a gynecolo…, oh jeez I had to change that fantasy if I can’t even notice pregnant women.

Now the unanswered questions started pilling, when did mum grow big belle? We lived in a two-roomed house how did that one get produced without noise? I thought its God who creates children, where did this one come from? Where will the baby sleep, yet we struggle every night to get fresh air from the blanket and mosquitoes? Life was tough by then, we hated visitors who come in the morning, and mum could wake you up at 5 o’clock to wash the house as if the visitors are hygiene officers, nonsense.

I used to love life then, we had a neighbor who never missed scandals when he wants to. He was a drunkard, I mean a heavy drunkard. Visiting the toilet was when he was not anywhere near the plot. He used to chase us from playing ground to our houses crying because he hates children noises.

I remember one time I was pressed to visit the toilet in the middle of the night, I tried knocking on my parent’s door for ‘poti’ but no response. That was the end of me, when I got outside my neighbor shouted, ‘saitan wewe.’ The worst happened and I helped myself with my trousers, sat down, and waited for it to dry. Mum woke up and then noise started on why I didn’t knock on their door for ‘poti’. I tried defending myself but mum kept on arguing as usual up to now. The things they were doing that night is still a mystery…

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