…having a one sleeved sweater I made my way home and of course Mum was the one I met home ,she had prepared me pancakes like she always did.”Hi mum” I said as I ran to hug her, “hello dia” she answered back, then she stared at me like something right from the vogue magazine that had been deposited on her doorstep, saying nothing, she walked swiftly to the long rows of windows, opened one of them an mumbled something.
Then she turned and stared at me as though I was a worm wriggling in her well made pancakes, she looked deep in my big eyes with her eyes trying to sought answers from mine but my milky white eyes were troubled and I looked away.”What happened to your sweater?” a torrent of concern coarsed through her.
Ooh poor me!! I was trembling as tears brilliantly formed in my eyes. Her voice was gentle despite of everything but that did not change anything. My heart was over-speeding thanks to no ‘Muchuki speed-governor’s’, I tried to answer but my voice had sunk in the deepest part of my full stomach as I had just eaten ‘chipo moshi’ (fries cooked on the streets) on my way home.
I hesitated for a long moment before I could convince my vocal chords that I really needed them and when they finally heeded all I could say was “what sweater?”hehehe!!
Just wondering what I would have done if I was in Mum’s shoe, too good we ain’t of the same leg size!
my question hit her real hard that she came closer and asked “yani huoni sweater yako ina mkono moja?”(So u don’t see that your sweater has one sleeve?) I looked at my sweater as though what she told me was the most impossible thing in the entire world. If you could only hear mum explain how convincing I was to my relatives during get-togethers, you’d understand why its the story that will never get out of fashion like analogue TV sets.
“Mum mi sijui imeenda wapi, ata sjatoa sweta!”(Mum I don’t know where the sleeve has gone, I have not even removed my sweater) I answered so innocently with wrinkles dancing on my young forehead as though there asking “How could that happen?”
I expected anything from bad which would meant thorough beating to worse which I dare not mention lest you adapt it as a way of punishing your lil’ ‘innocent’ angels like me. But none of that was forthcoming instead I got the shock of my life seeing mum laughing her well-formed ribcage out, was this a sarcastic laugh? No it wasn’t.
Dad soon came and I had to repeat the entire “I don’t know what happened story” and he started the laughing program again with lots-a support from his sweet cuppiecake (mum). Am sure none of them believed it since I was told that lying was wrong but I never got to tell them what really happened till later.
This other time I sacrificed one of my sock to make a ball to play ‘kati’ (a game) and getting home I gave the same old story “mimi ata sjatoa viatu”(ave not even removed my shoes). This time I was really beaten up and asked to perform the miracle of removing the other sock without removing the shoe… that’s a story for another day anyway hehe!
Am so glad my parents punished me for some mistakes I made and laughed at others though still correcting me,and all this was done with love. And now my question is, “what would you have done if you were my parents?”
punish me so badly yet in the back of my mind I did all the mistakes with a good intention in mind?? Or would you let me go and watch lying become my hobby?
Well that’s where grace comes in, I personally believe that God gives parents grace to know the way to bring up their kids.
Proverbs 13:24 talks about sparing the rod and spoiling the child ,but just how much should the rod be used? When, how and why?? All these can only be answered with a parent with Grace.We should therefore thank God for the grace he bestowed on our parents to be able to bring us up as good kids and to ask for such grace to be showered on us when we become parents. Donge?