I am sitting behind my living room desk trying to learn Ruby and suddenly my mind shifts back to my early years as a young primary school going boy. The dark cloudy skies probably have something to do with it. It is January. A normally hot sunny month so the thick dark heavy clouds are just unusual.
I can feel the cold wind flowing into the living room chilling my skin. Goosebumps are already forming. My large mug of coffee, previously forgotten, has now cooled. I take a sip and the cold coffee pinches the back of my throat. It feels surprisingly good.
The memory...
It was probably about 14 years ago - I can't remember correctly. We had just traveled to my grandmothers about 30KM away from home in the back of what we used to call 'face-me matatus'.
Imagine a single cabin Toyota Hilux with a large enough fabricated body which was fitted on the rear carrier to fit a couple passengers and shelter them from the elements and a luggage carrier fitted on top.
They were called face-me's because passengers used to sit on opposite sides of the rear carrier facing each other.
See the people facing each other in the carrier?
Like the image suggests, it wasn't pretty. Back then the rules were blatantly ignored and there was barely any enforcement. Also, most roads were in a horrible state of disrepair and the vehicle drifted left and right to avoid the huge potholes.
Most of the details are a bit sketchy in my mind but I seem to remember we only used to travel to our grandparents home on special occasions. Back then traveling was a luxury we could not afford. As a family of five there needed to be some financial planning and traveling arrangements done to make sure we all got to our destination safely and within budget.
It must have been a very important event because we were there late into the night. I remember stepping away from the smoky wood fire in the earth-floor kitchen and towards the vast grass compound where we used to play football with other kids.
Even then I was that type of person who valued personal space. I sometimes needed to get away from other people to sort of recharge my batteries. Too much interaction with many people tired me out mentally and physically.
The dog was already out in the compound and as soon as I sat down he came running towards me so that I could pet him. I remember looking up at the sky at the full moon. It appeared dull hidden behind what must have been heavy clouds. The cold wind carried the scent of rain but I was not in a rush to head back into the house.
As I sat there petting the dog I remember my father calling for me. It was probably time for us to head home. As I stood up I saw him step out of the living room followed close behind my mother and my brother and sister. They were all dressed in their heavy long hooded raincoats probably in anticipation of the rain.
We all said our goodbyes and started the 1-kilometer trek to the main road. I remember this used to be my favorite part of this visits. The long walks used to make for great bonding back when we did not have our faces bent over our smartphones to avoid conversations.
However, this time my father insisted that we walk as fast as possible to avoid getting caught in the rain. We did not make it very far before the rain finally came down. It was not a drizzle. It came down in torrents. Heavy rain pelted our heads and backs. The soil under our feet began soaking in the water making it sticky and slippery. We had to walk carefully and slowly if we did not want to fall over and hurt ourselves.
Finally, we reached the main road where we had to wait for a matatu plying the route to pick us up. Unlike your usual city scheduled buses and stops back then and even now there was no scheduled time for pick-ups and designated stops in the rural areas. You just had to stand there on the roadside and flag down any passenger vehicle that passed by and hope there was enough room for you. Sometimes, if you were desperate enough, hitching a ride on the outside of the vehicle while clung to the back of it was also an option.
It was definitely not an option on that day for a family of five. We had no choice but to stand there by the roadside in the rain. I remember the rain got so heavy that the raindrops bounced off the ground like tiny basketballs and onto my trouser as high as my knee and even soaked into my favorite shoes. I could hardly feel my toes. They had gotten so cold that any step that I took when my toes rubbed against the walls of the shoe it felt like tiny needles were being pushed under my toenails. It was torture.
To make matters worse not even a single passenger vehicle had passed by for the more than 30 minutes that we had stood there.
After what seemed like an eternity we spotted some headlights approaching in the distance. As they came closer we realized it was not a passenger vehicle. It was an old Toyota truck that must have seen better days. The rear seemed to sag yet there was no load on it.
My father decided to flag the driver down despite the fact it was a private vehicle. He must have realized that we would probably be standing there for a long time. He could not have that, especially with three young children shivering in the heavy rain.
The driver slowed down and stopped a few meters ahead of us. My father ran over to speak to him. After a few seconds he beckoned us over and we were told to get into the back of the truck.
I remember vividly how wet the back of the truck was. Rainwater was draining from the rusty edges onto the road below. The paint had chipped and exposed the metal surface to corrosion. The floor of the carrier buckled under our weight. It felt like it would give way at any time and spill us under the vehicle's wheels.
A parents sacrifice.
I remember my dad offering to sit down on the wet surface and having his two sons sit on his lap while my mom did the same with my sister.
Maybe at the time, I did not realize it but now when I reminisce - The sacrifice of a parent for their children.
The road was rough and bumpy and I could tell that my parents were uncomfortable but not even once did they complain about it. The rain was still coming down heavily and by then we were all soaked to the bone. Our shoes and clothes were leaking like faucets and the tips of our fingers had adopted a blue hue in the freezing temperatures.
Fortunately, the kind driver who had stopped to pick us up dropped us outside the gate to our home. I think my father offered him payment when we arrived but I doubt he accepted it.
We all took hot baths and drunk some warm chocolate tea before we retired to our warm beds.
I am always fascinated by just how far we have come as a family. Most of these experiences have taught me to appreciate all the good things in life and to value hard work and responsibility. I cannot wish away my past and neither would I want to do so, because this amongst many other struggles have helped build the person I am today.
Like always I appreciate those of you who read my posts and comment on them. This post was more of a way for me to re-live some bits and pieces of my memories. It was definitely interesting getting lost in my head for a while.
With love,
Denis K.J
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