Give me just one more chance at childhood.

I was back from school after a long nine hours of studying. Actually, those nine hours on Mondays to Fridays were the longest, and even though I didn't hate those times, sometimes, I just wanted to return home and sleep, then wake up to the noise of my friends with thier pans, matches, mini-firewoods for cooking rice and stew in the small milk tin, build a house for grasshoppers as our pet, and also have our own home. Errmmm, the rice and stew used to be sand as rice, and stew, then, stones were used as meat. So yummy. Eh eh. However, I liked those days when we would have parties in school, and I would be a part of the choreographers, cultural dancers, news casters, and drama troops.

Weekends were for farming and for chores. The most exciting time was the days we would visit the river to fetch water and bath, hunt crabs, snails and fishes, and then returned home to eat together in a big round bowl.

My childhood was a moment I really would want to experience once more. Those were the times I built the sense of family. I have elder siblings who were already grown and had left home to the boarding school, so I was most times, left with the responsibility of taking care of my younger siblings and cousins. It was an extended family house, hence we were always many in the house. I used that time to get closer to my cousins and younger siblings and become their confidant. That relationship is still very strong till now even though adulthood and distance has done a thing to us, the relationship we had many years ago is still as strong as ever, because up till now, they call me their small mum.

I learnt the art of cooking, and doing chores at an early age so I could help mum out even though I cooked salty stews and soggy rice many times. I didn't get to be very mischievous because my dad was a very strict man, but that mischievousness is what I now have because the strictness in my dad has reduced with age. Ah ah.

I want to go back to the time when I would wait outside, jumping, and chanting, daddy, oyoyo because I was sure of getting chinchin or sausage, even though two minutes later, we might have a fight. I remember representing my school at different spelling competitions, quiz and debates and returning home with gifts and my dad would shower me with prayers and praises. Really wholesome moments.

I remember seeing my dad fight with people who were against the community development. It was a small village with some mineral resources and there were people trying to exploit the goodness in our community, but my dad fought strongly against them. I remember seeing my village developed for the first time when one of my uncles joined politics. It was such a good time. The trait of activitism in my dad that he passed down to me was what I used to protect one of my friends from a paedophile.

The last time I travelled home, I remember seeing that house again and I waited outside to see if Brother Kamaru, the paedophile will come out so I can see what has become of his life now. Just maybe he has become more responsible. I was just 7 when this happened, but somehow, it remained etched in my memory.

I remember Ismail and Moshood, some of my playmates wanted to take advantage of their strength to overpower me while we were playing hide and seek, but it was shocking to them when I pushed them on top of each other and ran for dear life. Where exactly is that strength I used to do the fightings now? I guess the many challenges of adulthood took the physical strength away.

Images are mine.

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