Uncle Mandazi

I live for adventure; always have, always will – it’s in my DNA. While in primary school around class five or six, I remember the privately owned school bus we used had broken down, that day myself and some of my schoolmates had to use a ‘face-me’ (matatu) to get to school. Of course my mom was sure to lay down the laws of how I should conduct myself in public, in public transport and especially around strangers.

It was so thrilling going out into the ‘real’ world un-chaperoned not just the usual home ground adventures! That day I experienced independence, I felt so grown up after making the round trip without getting lost, kidnapped or killed. In fact I pleaded with my mom not to pay for the private bus coz I was obviously a responsible and independent girl who could get home safely; also my friends were doing the same. She reluctantly agreed.

That’s when my ‘thuggery’ sprouted. Going to school became an adventure; not for books but the travel aspect. Looking back I truly appreciate the fact that I’m alive by the grace. After a couple of weeks on the matatus we already had our favourite ‘kondas’ who would give us free rides; after all the fare for kids was like 5 bob, meaning now I’m saving money and have extra money for candy. One of my pals; Jacque and I even decided to walk to town after school to save more money (for the love of candy).

It was a short walk from school to town and we girls can talk non-stop so you don’t even get tired. We even started making friends with kids from neighbouring schools at the bus stop who later showed us a short cut through Majengo. It made a lot of sense; why walk round the circumference when you can cut through the diameter? What our new pals didn’t tell we ‘cool kids’ was that the short cut involved crossing an unstable rope bridge, walking through the slum and finally into town. At first it was terrifying but within a week we were veterans at that little hike!

In no time we had so much money that we had candy cartel at school! Sweet mzuri, koo, patco were for the poor ones; us girls were in the old Jamaica chocolates, coke candy packets, toffee and biscuit by the carton game! I remember getting a new neighbour; Nyambura who was in a school in town, we quickly became pals and we’d all meet up in town and discover places together. As a child staring at buildings whilst eating illegally acquired candy is such a thrill.

One day Nyambura and I were about to head home when we bumped into my relative; a distant uncle. This guy was a Mr. Moneybags kind of uncle. He quickly offered to take us for some tea and mandazi, we greedily accepted. Him, the other man he was with, Nyambura and I walked into a café where he ordered some mandazis, sausages and tea. Best day ever… till we stepped out of the café and realized it was night!

I got home to a boiling mother who urgently demanded to know where I was after school! In a relaxed and even proud manner I explained “tulikuwa na uncle akatupeleka kula mandazi pale…” BLACKOUT! Never in my life had I experienced such warfare “Kiudutho” style, I was a bit of a naughty child, so I had been canned multiple times before.

This was different; this was real WAR. That night after my aunt had intervened and the war had subsided, I remember telling mom mid sobs that I will never tell her the truth again if this is the thanks I’m getting!

That was the last time my mom ever whooped my ass; after that night she changed tactics into psychology - which involved a lot of talking and dissecting my misbehavior. Today I’m a grown woman but I’m still terrified of eating ‘mandazi’ even from my uncles.

#BushBabyTales #Childhood #Motherhood #Adventure #KidsAtRisk #AtRisk