Lutgard Musiime

We are ten days already in the #ugBlogMonth, It is amazing that I get to write each day. Do I like to write every single day? Oh yes! But some days I just do not feel like my opening my computer but guess what! A girl gotta write even when she don’t like it…..

So today I had to write a confession and here it is.

I start this by saying, God bless mothers because they go through a lot to see their children turn out the upright children they ought them to be. Fathers do too I guess but mothers do more.

If you were born in the 90s and earlier, you probably know that playing was the source of entertainment for most of the children. Televisions were just beginning to make their mark in the society, phones let alone smart phones were almost non existent, radios did not have as much entertainment like they do today. My childhood was full of play, play and more play. We played at dawn, in the scorching sun, at dusk even in the night. There was only one small problem though. Mummy always disorganized our programs. If it weren’t to go sleep after food, it was too late to play or we had to do dishes. It almost felt like she had a problem seeing us free, and doing our business (playing)

So on this fateful day, we were on the lose as mummy was at work. By that time she worked as an accountant at the same school I went to for my lower primary. It is not always easy going to a school that your parent works at trust me, but that is a story for another day. So we played from a friend’s compound whose home was near the road. I don’t remember what prompted us to start going for a mango hunt but we did. We agreed to use stones to knock the unripe mangoes off the tree and when it was my turn, the stone took another trajectory and hit a passing passenger van. The rest of the crew took to their heels leaving me in the hands of two grown scary looking men.

My heart began to pound not because of what I had done but what my mother would do to me. I had already imagined the intensity of beating I was going to get and it freaked the hell out of me, so I began to cry and yell for mercy. These two men cared the very lest to my pleas and dragged me like a goat being taken to graze. All I could hear them say is, we will take you to prison and you will not leave until our broken head lamp is paid. In Uganda it does not take long before dozens of people gather to a scene and that was the case. Mark you I was about 6 or 7 years then. As the scuffle continued to ensue, one old man stepped forward and advised the men to look for my parent(s) or guardian to resolve this or else if I am taken to prison, I am way below the age of imprisonment and I will be let out.

At the end of the day, my mother was located and had to compensate the two men and I survived going to jail at such a young age. But the beating I got that day, is one I can never forget in my life.