My childish childhood.

Childhood is fun. While growing up, I have done many things that if I think of them today, I would laugh at my childishness. In most of those experiences that I had, I realized that the intention was to have me obey the order of the elders around me.

My grandparents, under whose custody I used to be during holidays, tried to employ some tactics to keep me in check. My uncle that was with them then abused these tactics too to force me run errands for him.

One of such things that I remember is about a hunter, popularly called Asoropa, that used to dress in a traditional bulletproof vest while going hunting. My grandfather being a retired famous hunter in that community, the hunter would always stop to pay homage while going to the forest to hunt for games. On some occasions, he would branch while returning home to give my grandfather some hunted animals.

The first time that I saw Asoropa in his bulletproof vest, my heart nearly jumped out of my chest. On the vest were cowries, snail shells tied with thread and some threaded tiny objects fixed to the vest. Looking at the vest closely, you would realize that it is always wet. I later learned that the food that keeps the vest functional is alcohol. As such, he splashed the vest with alcohol and chewed alligator pepper at intervals.

When he approached with a gun in his right hand, bow and arrow hanging on his shoulder while the left shoulder was carrying a big empty sack that had turned reddish, I couldn't stand the view of him, I ran inside the room crying. He noticed that I had run inside and he followed me, telling me to come outside. My grandmother was in the in-between us, telling him to leave her grandson alone. The man would shout that I should come outside and in response to that, my crying would be louder. Eventually he left for his hunting.

After that first encounter, I vowed in my mind never to see the man again. He had a few big dogs that he used for hunting. These dogs were his advanced team. Whenever the dogs came to our premises, I would quickly run inside before the arrival of their master.

My grandparents discovered this as a tactic to make me obey instructions. If I feel reluctant to do as instructed by my grandparents, the slight mention of reporting me to Asoropa would force me to do as they wished.

My uncle also used the tactics to extort from me. Whatever I was eating and refused to give him a share of it, he would threaten that he would report me to Asoropa and that the man would take me away in his big bag. I could start crying after granting his wish at the hearing of such a statement.

Another experience that I had with the same uncle of mine was a day that I mistakenly swallowed an orange seed. That was the first time that I thought of the possible consequences of such acts. I ran to my uncle with the remaining orange in my hand to seek his opinion about the implications of swallowing seeds.

Immediately I told him, he shouted aloud and collected the remaining orange.

"Why did you make this dangerous mistake?" he asked. "Whenever someone swallows a seed, the seed would gaminate and after some time, the person would pave way for the tree to exist."

While I was practically shaking at what was about to happen to me, he was busy taking the remaining orange while he carefully brought out the seed from his mouth.

"This is how you do it in order not to swallow any of the seeds." He explained the procedure to me.

I wasn't interested in his explanation. My cheeks were already soaked with a pool of tears, thinking of what my situation would become when the germination begins in my stomach. It took the intervention of my grandparents when they returned from the farm to allay my fears. My uncle was scolded for tormenting me with such false claims.

Those days remind me of my fragile childhood when I could be emotional about anything.

Thank you for your time. I will appreciate your comments.