Dr Fixit (291 - 300)

 

A Tongue-like Flower

291

and whosoever sewed them and their threads.

Of all the games, the two ugly trends

I joined as a kid were card-throwing

and button-kicking. Later in the evening 

we'd gone to the stream to wash, swim

and fetch water as we got everything within 

our reach for school the next day.

A new fellow had joined us to play

the bubblegum cards. His name was Soulit.

Right while having supper, a fist hit


292

(not knocked) - yes, a fist rammed the door

like it would bring it down to the floor.

Grandma screamed for the person to stop 

the pranks, thinking who did that had dropped 

his senses somewhere after being drunk

but it turned out the person was sunk

in despair for his son stole a chunk 

of his cash and when the father searched his bunk,

all he discovered was this pile of cards

the son said were from bubblegum packs 


293

but he claimed from others he won them all -

I was included. Before grandma's call,

I was beside her immediately I heard 

the mention of cards. The old man stared

at me, saying: 'Soulit, are you telling me

that this young child would make you silly 

enough to steal my hard-earned cash

and throw it away?' Grandma wasn't harsh.

In a light manner, she tried unravelling 

the truth. She said: 'I heard the teaching 


294

'in the morning in your Sunday School.

What was the topic?' Trust me, I wasn't a mule.

I answered: 'The truth shall set you free.'

Grandma said: 'Right now is the opportunity.

What happened when you went to the stream?'

I reeled off the fact file on the theme.

I went to the stream with nine other kids.

Soulit was the newest in our midst.

Boys were six and girls were four.

The boys left the girls in the water and took a tour


295

to the abandoned sandpit where Soulit 

pulled out this large pack of cards and with Sendit,

they played. We ate nothing along the way,

not even mangoes, as other kids had strayed

past the mango trees before us and picked

whatever fell from the trees and throwing a stick

to pluck the fruits was tricky as we knew

the residents were in. Soulit was new

to our group, I plainly told his father 

who was tightly holding to Soulit's knicker


296

that he didn't even come with any container 

to the stream. He joined us and did linger

with us around stadium and if he stole 

any funds he must have had a stroll

and spent it elsewhere before meeting us.

We weren't bush babies who'd do something perilous 

with monkeys. We were smarter than that.

Pa Soulit hearing how I talked, wasn't mad

with his son or anyone else anymore.

He had a wry smile, saying: 'Tell me more.


297

'So monkey and bush baby came to church 

in the morning today?' He'd loosened his clutch 

on his son's knicker. He was a core believer

in tradition so it seemed I'd delivered 

a powerful sermon with what I said 

though it wasn't intentional. My answer was based 

on what grandma asked me and the colourful way

I answered because she was my model. Grandma would play

with words especially when the other person 

was furious over something. She'd bring tension 


298

down to the minimum by the wise way 

she'd answer anyone. 'No,' I did say,

'but the Sunday School teacher told us

a tale about them.' Sounding serious,

Pa Soulit said: 'Tell me a little 

about them.' I thought I heard a giggle

from Soulit as I reeled out the tale.

When I ended, the old man said: 'I fail

in how I always picture the church.

Today, I bury all of my grudge.


299

'Next Sunday, you'd take Soulit with you.

Now I know you're not there to do 

only tithing and offering and sing songs

that aren't as sweet as what we do with gongs

and drums when our masked men

are in the village square.' To make a fat tale lean,

Soulit as I write this is a preacher.

I'd not rush to the end before the start. Later,

I'd tell you about him. There was threat

of rain that night and not to be late


300

to school the next day, there was no moonlight 

and no play. We slept early and tight

and woke up the new day carrying out

our domestic chores. Like a mate hanging out 

with a mate, I had intimate chat

with my conscience if I should rat

on Moonit to Grandma that she entered 

the room of the apprentice welder.

But if I was asked what did they do,

what would I say? Well, I stopped to pursue 

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