Tuesday, April 19, 2011
Tuesday, April 19, 2011
Footprints Far From Home
Some stories are too painful to tell, but also they are too strong to forget. Therefore, a story like this I choose to pour it on a white sheet of paper. It has been thirteen years since the last time I saw Walter. For the thirteen years that I have lived without him, life has been like a plot of a movie that cannot end unless I see Walter again. This is a story of the last day that Walter and I spent together.
Grammar was at work, in the city. She never gives me any hard instructions for the day. She only would ask from me was that I do not eat at the neighbor’s house and I should try not to find my footprints far away from home. Then she would add, “Watch Walter”!
Grammar would repeat her speech every morning before catching a bus to work, and I would do the exactly opposite. I remember she used to yell at me saying,
“Why don’t you ever listen to the simplest instructions that I ever give to you?” Then she would wonder “unataka nikuongelee kiruga?”
So that day like many other days in Dar-es-salaam the heat was at it’s maximum degree. I would swear that God thought of toasting us alive because man, I thought my eyes would pop out of my skull any time from the heat. Pop, pop like popcorn. I was wearing a blue vest that looked like it had been chewed by a cow. Then I rescued the shirt and gave it a purpose in life. I putted it on. On the bottom, I had a skirt that you would never believe that once upon a time, was new and Mom paid money to buy it. The skirt looked as if I found it in the dumpster, and even the street kids who had nothing, would not even bother fighting me to get it. My legs were as white as a ghost, Mwanga, in Swahili. I had dust on my short, uncombed hair, dust around my puffy cheeks, dust on my short chubby arms, and I do not doubt that I had dust on my butt. If I remember correctly, it was around two in the afternoon, Walter and I just came from our neighbor’s house for lunch. If I went alone, which I wanted to, Walter would then tell on me to Grammar so I had to bring that little bastard with me. Walter and I, and other random kids from my neighborhood were playing a game. The game had no name. We were about five blocks from my house. We were now near at the busy road. Beside us was a small shop made out of wood. The shop did not have much in it. Well I did not care what it had as long as it had my three favorite things: candy, bubble gum and crackers. In front of the shop where we were there was the road. Since people’s houses were randomly built, the road grew narrow over the years.
So yes, I was about to tell you about the game. The aim was to collect as much sand as possible in order to build an underground sand house. This is how we did it. We would use our shirt as the way of transporting sand from where it was to where we need it. I would pack as much sand as I could hold on my vest and carry it very carefully. My huge, belly button would be hanging out from my fat, but cute stomach. If my stomach was a breast, then my belly button would be the big, ugly, fat, swollen nipple. After collecting the sand, we would dig a hole in the ground the size of our feet. Then while sitting down, we would put our feet to the holes that we just dug. Then we would bury our feet with the sand that we just collected. We would leave a little opening at the back so we could take our feet out from the sealed hole, without letting the sand collapse into the hole that was in the shape of our feet. After that, we would use the additional sand to build a fence outside. Walter had no shirt on, and as I told you, this game requires one to have shirt, if not a skirt or any loose clothing that you can use to fill with sand. Anyway, still I had to let Walter play. I appointed him to be the sand guard. Guarding the sand that we were collecting.
While in the middle of burying our feet in the sand, a white taxi pulled besides us. I did not care much to look up to see who was in the car. While doing my best to not care, about the taxi that almost hit us, I heard a familiar voice calling “Queen”.
I looked up to see who was bothering me, and there he was, my father.
“Baba. Shikamo” I said in a hurry. I was still sitting with my eyes straight looking at him. He was smiling while talking to me. His eyes were red, I never remembered seeing his eyes the right color before. He stretched his arm to pull me up from the ground.
“Where is Walter?” he questioned
“Walter? Over there” I pointed to him. He followed my finger to see who he was asking for. During this time, Walter was trying to get his foot out of the hole. Poor thing, he tried to be careful, but he did not do right because I shocked him when I yelled his name;
“Walter!” I yelled again. “Walter!”
“What?” he responded
“Baba” I answered
Walter looked up and as soon as he saw him, he quickly tried to get up as if ants were in his pants. He fell down a couple of times. Moreover, when he got up, he ran and hugged dad. Dad picked up Walter with both his arms. He was shocked to see Walters’ face covered with sand. He tried to wipe if off as much as he could.
“Where is Grammar?” Dad asked
“At work” I said
“So do you want to take a ride with me in the taxi?” he questioned.
I did not respond, because I did not know what to say. I mean the answer was supposed to say no, but I wanted it to be yes. The right answer was no, because Grammar forbid us to get into a car with anybody that we do not know. In addition, she added that, never to get into a car with our dad, why? Because of hate. My grandma hated our Dad. Well my entire family on my dead mother’s side hated our Dad. They blame him for my mother’s death and for the death of our twin siblings. After the funeral of my mother, Walter and I stayed with Grandmar, who hated Dad with a passion.
“Come on. Just a quick ride.” He said. “I will bring you back in no time” he insisted.
I really wanted to take a ride, so I said goodbye to the game and Walter and I got into the taxi with dad. We drove for a few minutes, and then we arrived in this little restaurant not that far away from Grandmar’s house. We all got out of the taxi, even the taxi driver. There in the restaurant, we ordered soda and fries. Oh God I love fries. So I took time of not worrying about what will happen to both Walter and I if Grandma found out, that we broke the most important rule ever!
“Do you guys want to go back home?” Dad asked while looking at both of us.
“You mean Grandmar’s house” I was not sure of what he meant.
“Yes. Or do you want to come with me”
“Grandmar doesn’t know that we are coming with you” in a small voice, I responded.
I missed Dad, and I wanted to go with him, but my fear for Grandmar was even stronger. After we were done with the sodas, Dad told the Waiter to pack my fries for me to take home. Then we all went into the taxi again going back to Grandmar’s house. We drove to where Dad found us playing. The kids that Walter and I were playing with were no longer there. Walter, Dad and I step out of the car. Dad held my hand and with a calm voice he questioned again,
“Are you sure you don’t want to come with me?”
I looked down on the ground and I did not answer him but I stretched my arm and grabbed Walter’s arm.
“Walter come home with me” I commanded
However, Walter did not want to. He started crying and begging Dad to take him with him. I tried to put fear on Walter by stating the amount the trouble he will be in if he goes with Dad. Still Walter did not listen to me. Therefore, I kept my mouth shut. Dad took Walter into the taxi, and waved good-bye. I was mad as hell at Walter since he did not want to listen to me, but also I was glad, because if Walter happens to come back, he would get hell from Grandmar. The car drove away and my eyes followed it until I couldn’t see it anymore. All I thought about was how I cannot wait for Grandmar to come home and I could tell her that Walter broke the most important rule.
It is funny, I kept waiting for Walter to get into trouble and it never happened, because Walter never came back since that day. As I said, some stories are just too painful to tell but also they are too strong to forget. If I knew that day, my life would be without Walter, maybe I would have been nice to him all day. I miss him. When I find him, then the story of my life will not just be just a story line that lost it’s ending.