What a miss?
She opened the door for her brother which wasn’t a bother as such
So he came in to put up with her until when he’d find his own feet to chase his viable dreams, so he wasn’t here to lodge a day or two
He was lucky, lucky because most of us when we first set our feet in the heart of the city, the only brothers and sisters we’d relate with were those in some catholic we believed existed somewhere around,
The only thing we knew were our names and the only place we knew was the sky that always was on top of our heads
We’d seen so many opportunities and had fallen for some but no opportunity ever came our way to pick what was to go into our plate, infact their plates, we didn’t own any plate or mug
So our plight was to at least know this language that everyone was speaking because our tongues were deep soaked in vennacular, so even the way we said our names was through some weird ascent,
She herself was lucky, lucky because at least the child would have time to interact with her uncle and maybe the uncle would coach her and assume some parental obligations
The child was lucky, lucky to have a uncle when some of us have all along heard of uncles and at a point in time thought that it was a city in the united states
It was fun, fun to see uncle and niece talk together, share experiences, so broad cheeks was always a face painting they had before Christmas came around
So it was fun to see ankles and knees get fit after a day splendid of work and play, so the child wasn’t sully anymore
Two years down the line, he was still a brother and somebody’s uncle and a student also
She was still her sister and guardian because of the school fees she paid for him and dues of gathering stones and mixing ballast, so his foundation would be solid
So she was a sister and a guardian playing a bigger part than a mere angel for she was the mathematics that would draw the angle of success for him through the geometry of hardwork and commitment, so she was the center of origin
The tandem between uncle and niece made her fail to send her eyes to time because the child was now at the threshold of puberty and time was tickling still
And if she’d understand that time was moving, seldom would she know that such plays were now more dangerous than the electric pole for such was already birthing to something weird she’d not take to it
Not after long are changes such as slow walks, sully looks, what amiss?
The child was unwilling to open up, but by the look of things, some toothpick tried to reach some particle beneath some teeth
So I was there and provided the toll free number of sans medics, to see if her infliction and infected anything in her
It’s easy to hit the dictionary meaning of family, government and forget a holiday that has been dangling on the calendar year after year but it’s hard to fail to know the meaning of defilement and would be tied to even consult the same dictionary
So she was in pain, not because she was inflicted, no she wasn’t the one defiled, the pain in her was what would be the turn of events for that child, how her future was ruined by one of her kinsfolk
She was in pain, not that of feeding and elevating a lion that turned and pounced on her but the pain of being told to forward not this issue to the authorities by the kinsfolk because the blunder would paint shame on all of them,
Which was true, true because it would be more overwhelming to see her own brother rot in jail when the light she started for her was busy wasting in some school
She was in pain, pain the brother seemed a villain when he in the least of things could not apologize but escape
So how is he your uncle when he can’t go to his knees and try to convince his goosebumps that you’re just a kid infact with incomplete feminine credentials like flat bossom and hip?
“What was his charm? Were there no bigger girls around to share goosebumps with? I ask as all the rest did that day.
And how is he your uncle when busy chasing your dreams he’s busy pulling your ankle down?
What’s the meaning of school if etiquette is never acquired?
Anyway it’s just a poem
By James Musau