In my language we have a saying that reads; “etansiima ebura agiha” which loosely translates as a non grateful person will not be shown gratitude also. I cannot believe that I have managed to write every single day for the last 20 days. Call it being stretched beyond, thanks to the Uganda Blogging Community. This experience has tossed me into merry waters and muddy ones too. I have had to uncomfortably strip myself sometimes and open up to the world through the varied topics that were carefully chosen I suppose. This has indeed put an indelible mark on my skill and growing passion and I will always look back to this experience. I have met amazing talent and joined a community that under normal circumstances would never have happened. Away from that let us go into today’s challenge.
Matthew 18: 1-4; At that time the disciples came to Jesus, saying, “Who is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven?” 2 And calling to him a child, he put him in the midst of them 3 and said, “Truly, I say to you, unless you turn and become like children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven. 4 Whoever humbles himself like this child is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven.
I have chosen to begin with this verse because of the way Jesus talks to his disciples about entering heaven in relation to a child. Being a child is very interesting and I believe it is the purest any human can and will ever be. They will not hold a grudge, will love and trust recklessly and truly, will do everything they are told (in most cases) therefore I can try to see and understand why God chose to use a child when He was asked about who is the greatest. Throughout this #UgBlogMonth challenge I have given away my childhood self a lot here and there but it seems my childhood story bank is bottomless and the stories keep coming. Today the story I give is one that I laugh at too, like it were not me who featured.
There is a particular old lady, a friend to my mother whose name I have no clue but we have forever called her ‘mukyara Poster master’ (she was the wife to the mail man and that is what she was referred to in my language). Each time she came home or to our shop, she would scream these words as she looked at me and laughed; Yowe tinyija kugyayo” In a language you all understand it will read, ‘Me I will not go there’. Apparently, when I was started going to school, it is not an idea that I really welcomed. I guess because it involved me waking up early from my sweet sleep. (Oh! How I love my sleep.) So every morning, I cried from the time I was taken out of bed, to eating my breakfast and all the way to school, which was not far off, chanting those words that the lady still screams to this day when she sees me. Mum tells me that our neighbourhood knew there was a child called Lut (that is what I am called at home) who was a cry baby but many could not put a face to the name.
Now the first week of school was spent in the headmaster’s office who happened to be a family friend because I did not like the idea of being in the classroom. With my thumb in my mouth I would head straight to the headmaster’s office who would give me a seat and a sweet to entertain me. Then at 1pm, I would be picked and taken back home. How ridiculous can we be!!!! This went on and I guess I must have felt like royalty until one of my teachers, Ms. Namuwonge got to know about this outrageous habit. I am told she bust into the headmaster’s office and asked to understand what business I had in the headmaster’s office when other children were in class. As I threw a tantrum in protest, she pulled me by my belly muscle back into class. That way she saved my sorry a** from being a school dropout at the age of 4 years.
Having settled in class, my naughty self did not completely go to rest. By that time we had a non teaching staff member who happened to share a name with my elder brother. Someday as we were about our business, playing most likely, I had someone call for Edward. In my head, there was only one Edward in this world who happened to be my brother. I run to him to meet him only to find an unfamiliar figure. I cried my eyes out until I was taken home. That day, my classes were cut short because of mistaken identity.
My childhood memories will not end but maybe next time I will tell how I sucked my thumb and it shrinked to the size of my pinky finger. This was a habit that was done while caressing my protruding belly button. Now imagine what would happen when I was wearing a dress. Story for another day.
Thank you for reading.