Well... I’m now a doctor. I‘ve not always
been this polished or stylish. I had the looks but back then... it was clouded
by the clothes I went without and the neighbourhood I grew up in. My friends
were not any different. We were the perfect troop. For some reason, we found
the outdoors extremely exciting and I remember very clearly how the usual
afternoons after school played out. The neighbour’s children, I and a few
others who lived down the street would often venture into the streets. Words had
it that money could be made and ‘kids’ what do we know? We tagged along. Almost
ten of us would daily sneak out from home to wash windshields of cars on the
road and this got more exciting by the day. The angry faced driver threatening,
the hawker almost pushing off his market space and the reckless motorists all
created a blend of dangerous pleasure that we all looked forward to. It was
merely our way of making a little bit extra to spend on lunch breaks but not
everyone understood; most especially the insensitive folks who often called us
names; insulted our parents and cursed our future. Those made me cry.
I wouldn’t say my parents were entirely oblivious;
they were quite satisfied as long as we came home each night and went to school
every morning. They saw it all as children having fun. A little background of
my family may help: my dad was a driver to a manager at a local bank and my mum
had a stall pitched right in front of our self contained apartment. My
siblings, 5 in total had now become just 3 due to an epidemic of measles that
claimed the lives of the twins when they were barely a year old.
My dad had always been an angry man who did
nothing but hurl words at my mother and a philandering one also who
occasionally displayed a bit of violence which he has until this day denied. His
father had been an alcoholic and his mum had simply stayed for the sake of her
children. He grew up in an abusive home and I guess of his siblings, he took
after his old man –a milder version I think because he never took to drinking
and often spoke of the evil it’s capable of.
My mum on the other hand grew up almost like
orphans do -repressed. Standing up for oneself was an alien concept. She and
her brother were raised by an uncle in another town whose wife saw them as
threats and accordingly, relegated them to eating left-overs, not being able to
touch anything in the house, sitting on special chairs usually at the corner
close to the kitchen and eating from marked cutlery and bowls. “It could have
been worse” she always told herself but was grateful that at least, she and her
brother got to attend elementary school. My mum was labelled the ‘foodie’ in
her secondary school days but no one knew she was never handed any provisions
and as such, had to solely rely on the boarding house food if she was to eat
anything at all. My mum simply wanted to feel like she belonged somewhere; for
her, having a family of her own was essential.
All these are in the past now. My parents
live in a 3bed apartment my siblings and I rented out for them. The fights have
eased up and I owe this to the more comfortable living situation they now
enjoy. My siblings and I are doing remarkably well in our chosen fields. God
must have heard the prayers of our father who always uttered words like ‘’these
children will be greater than I ever was’’
So dear reader... before you judge and hurl
insults at that child who looks so unkempt and probably constituting a
nuisance, remember that it is his now that you see. Before you judge the
abusive father who is also aware of his failed attempts at being the perfect
role model, a prayer would suffice and before you cuss out the woman who allows
herself be abused, ask what her story could have been...
We all have a story; we all have a future.
Never despise people today because ‘today’ is the only bit we can all see.
