The aeroplanes that flew past the sky were always much of a wonder to me. I never failed to rush out to wave them goodbye whenever I heard the sound of one approaching. The older kids in the neighbourhood had us believe that if we waved hard enough and got noticed by the pilots they would throw us some goodies down from the plane. As much as those goodies were worth waving for, I always wanted more. I wanted to be the one navigating through the sky and gliding through the wind.
Uncle Diego who was the most learned in my extended family having had his education until primary 4 had been the one to answer most of my curious question. Questions like how does one become a "perlot"? As he pronounced it in his strong latin accent. Uncle Diego told my siblings and I of how pilots were not really humans and how it took supernatural powers to even move a plane. It got me worried because there wasn't really anything super about me.
Uncle Diego usually went on to advice us to pay focus on how to till the farm land properly saying one day we would own ours.
Papa and Mama gave little tolerance to subjects outside farming. Most at times when I tried to talk about my fascinations of being a pilot as we sat for dinner by the burning fire, I was often rebuked by them. Papa in particular shunned me loudly. He had made a name under the umbrella of farming and he wanted all his children to follow suit. He would make statements like "Farming is our birth right".
Papa shielded us from external influence, especially from those kids who were always dressed uniformly in a white shirt and blue shorts trooping out while we were out to check on the days farm work . Papa labelled them as the white man's leftovers. Even at that, I felt a stronger connection to their cause compared to that of becoming a renowned farmer.
On one sunny Morning as I stood outside the house sharpening my cutlass for the farm. A man dressed in a very large suit holding a brief case on his right hand with the over extended hem of his trousers gathering dust with every step he took, approached the front door. He identified himself to being the principal of the local primary school and was there to enroll me for the new academic session.
It's been 17 years since Papa caused a scene in front of the house after hearing the intentions of the Principal. Giving him a slap as a matter of fact. I am now a pilot and the sky is just like my second home. Mama's plea to Papa was instrumental to letting the principal have me as a student.
Although schooling felt like an impossible task as it was a lot different from farming. I had to learn how to use a pen in place of a hoe.Hardwork and perseverance was key as I emerged best in school and got myself a scholarship to secondary and aviation school which was funded by the Federal Government. I now take airline passengers all over the world, i also got to realise that one could not throw goodies down to onlookers as a pilot,which was indeed sad.
More pilots are on the rising in my little community and the only supernatural ability they need is their education.
THANK YOU FOR READING...feel free to drop comments and i'ill do my best to reply
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