Memories from home.

Welcome to flavoured Friday fodder, today I would like to reflect on some happy memories from home and how they have affected me. Happy reading folks (would love to read some of your stories/memories).

I spy with my little eye something beginning with S?

We all yell out our responses hoping to get Papas’ attention first.

Star! Sand! Sky! Stone! And then out of nowhere the most bizarre answer Pole! We all laughed and soon got back the game.

This was a typical night time game in our household, under open skies waiting for my elder brother to power the generator because as per the norm our area has been cut off from the national power supply. During the corn season, it wasn’t unusual to have roasted corn and coconut or pear as a snack at such times. Papa referred to them as “mouth organ”, because your mouth was constantly in motion, crunching out weird tunes. Once the generator was switched on everyone scrammed back to their previous pursuits. Funny how a power cut always created that situation, hmm….now I suspect Pa of influencing the situation… either way I enjoyed my corn off the cob with my family.

Come Saturday mornings and a different family bonding process shaped the atmosphere in our house: Papa relaxing to Osadebe/Oliver De coque melody as he read his morning paper, legs crossed on his table.  Or you could find him doing a funny dance (which involved his belly moving side to side) that always made us laugh. Home felt like a music arena subdivided into mini concert rooms as my siblings carried out their chores with different songs blaring off different stereos, Michael Jackson from one end and Kirk Franklin from another. It was a weird happy chaos, Ma yelling over the music reminding us to get on with our chores.

And me, I was the grinder….why was I always the grinder? Grind pepper, grind crayfish boring at best but the music helped. Later in the evening it wasn’t unusual to find us chatting with Pa in his room, sometimes the chat became tickling and raspberry blowing matches. But as we grew older and moved on, fun Saturday became quieter still fun but less boisterous.

Time passed, home became empty and our visits grew sparse, we had all gone to conquer the world at school, at work, everywhere. Ma and Pa stayed home keeping the nest, then Pa slept, never to be woken again. It was a sad call from home. Sad as it meant Pa would not see me graduate, never meet my groom or give me away to him, neither would he meet his lovely granddaughters, Leona, Lily and Olive.

Sad as I never got to say “Pa I don’t subscribe to all your life choices but am grateful for every memory we shared, good or bad at least you gave it your best shot and you were human”. Thank you, for investing in my future. I hope to form memories with your grand-kids that I hope they would also cherish.

I doubt my father realised how much those simply actions meant to me, I doubt I realised it at the time either. Today I watch hubby blow raspberries on baby L’s tummy and I remember my dad. Take time to be there, cease every opportunity to make them laugh and enjoy your presence.


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