I had gone to bed very early the previous night and I had had enough sleep even before the hands of the clock struck mid- night. A couple of times I had awoken from my sleep and wished it were morning already, because I could not go back to sleep, the night is long indeed they say when our eyes are unsleepy:
I turned on my bedside lamp and reached out for my watch, it read four thirty in the morning. Even though it was not my usual time of waking up I decided to get out of bed, as the saying goes early to bed early to rise. Very lazily I walked across the room to the window which opens into the backyard of the house. The backyard of my house was used as a storage area for household items and electrical gadgets which were malfunctioning or not in use any longer. All items were kept there until they are eventually disposed off. I stood at the window and looked up towards the skies, the moon was still visible and the view was just beautiful. Next, I shifted my attention to the many things parked at the backyard, amongst them were all toys that my siblings and I once played with, I stared with no particular interest. Then my eyes fell on my fathers very old and worn out car, as I looked closely I realized the early morning dew had dampened it a bit, oh that car! I smile crept along my face as I remembered all the memories that came with my dads first car. Daddy’s dear car was what we called it, DDC in short
My father had bought this car about some thirty five years ago and that was before I was born, well at least that was what my father used to tell me. Each time I got on his nerves by writing a few alphabets on his car, he bellowed; I bought this car long before I gave birth to you and even thought of marrying your mother; and all that was when I was still in kindergarten. Back then I did not understand what he meant by all that he said and I wonder if it even makes sense to me now. Maybe someday when I buy my first car, I will understand.
Anyway, this car in question was a Nissan datsun 280 J. it was ash in colour, had alloy rims and even at that time it had leather seats, perhaps that was what made it special and unique to my father. The only official driver of this cherished automobile, was my father, not as if I had other choices since that was his one and only car and the first to be precise at that time. Let’s just say that my father was one of the very few people who owned a car during those days and as such, he was a very proud owner. The passenger seat was my mother’s, the seat directly behind was for my older brother, the seat behind the drivers seat was mine, this was where I sat most of the time hiding my face, hence preventing my father from looking at me through the driving mirror. The truth was that I was the most troublesome one and my dad always had scores to settle with me. I either stayed late at my friends houses, did not come home early from school, did not do my extra curriculum activity at school which was music or I just did not do what was asked of me. My dad did not understand why the only girl amongst two boys could give him this much problems. Of course! My younger brother was only a baby then so what kind of trouble kraa might befall him? As for my older brother I know he had his own kind of trouble, only he hadn’t being caught yet! I was always the unlucky one, in a way I always felt like my daddy always picked on me. Could it have been because I a girl? (You know what they say about women being the weaker sex) Anyway, somehow my family’s number remained at five so every one had his place in the car. Guess the only place which will have been available incase another member joined the ride would have been the booth since it was the only inhabited space.
Every morning my father would drive us to school, send my mother to the market and he will go to work. We will come home after school with the school bus and this was the daily routine. On Sundays we will all go the church together in my daddy’s car of course! It really was not your choice as a child to determine if your want to go to church or not, in my father’s house it was a Must, to always go to church on Sunday except if you are sick which rarely happens to any of us especially me since I didn’t like church that much, for me I thought it was quite boring.
Riding in this car means you would have to abide by the rules and regulations which came with it, like fastening of seat belts, no fighting or fidgeting and no eating. The latter rule, which I strongly believe was enacted with me in mind. I once ate in the car and spilled orange juice all over the seats, fortunately for me my dad did not witness it because he had gone into a shop to buy some provisions and that saved me from his instant justice. When we got home that day, the very first thing I should have done was to clean the seats with soapy water but did not do any of that. The next morning my dad woke up to find his precious car infested with ants, and I mean so many ants they could even arrange a coup d’état to over throw the human race in power. He needed not to be told who the culprit was, it certainly had to be me, that morning he beat me black and blue.
When I entered my teens, being late was an habitual thing for me every day! I began to pay more attention to my appearance spend more time in the bathroom and kept everybody waiting, getting dressed was a different case all together, I am sure if the mirror could talk, it would have told me enough was enough considering the number of times I looked into it each morning before school. My lateness got my dad very angry because I made everybody else late too since we had to move in the same car. He always threatened to leave me behind one day. As for me I always thought his threats were empty because he could not see how he would refuse to take me to school. For him, education is the key to success and I could not imagine him depriving his one and only daughter of it.
By the time I turned 15, the car had lost its beauty. It was dented at the rear and at the left side, hence we had to use only one side of the car to get to the back seats since the other door could not open. It also had a cracked windscreen, malfunctioning indicators and no wheel caps, not forgetting the squeaking noise of the wheels and the smoke from the exhaust pipe. It became a mere means of transportation rather than a luxury, riding in it each morning to school became very uncomfortable for me, I would often ask my father to make me alight at the junction before my school, to this he did with much displeasure but I cared less. Soon I started going to school on my own and I did this by taking the school bus or I simply walked if I missed it. This new routine often made me ran extremely late which I always got punished for, at school but I preferred this than having to be ridiculed at school by my class mates each time I rode in my daddy’s car. My dad often advised me about being punctual but all his advice fell on deaf ears. In my final year of my Junior High School Education, I was nominated to compete for the senior girls’ prefect but I was voted out by the vetting committee because I was a habitual late comer. Not even my very good grades could save me and you can imagine the punishment I received from my father.
Another encounter I remembered my dad had with someone over his car was with my older brother. He had come back for vacation from the boarding school and for some strange reason he decided to move my daddy’s car without his knowledge or permission. He ended up running into our outside wall, damaging part it in the process. That day He wished the ground would open and swallow him, what prompted him to even touch that car is still I mystery to all of us. For his punishment, money was to be deducted from his monthly allowance until it was enough money to pay back for expenses made from fixing the car and the broken wall.
Another hilarious memory we had with this car was when we were on our way to church and then the car broke down in the middle of the road. Cars behind us honked their horns at us and as if that embarrassment was not enough my dad ordered my brother and I to push the car. I could not believe my ears; initially I refused but the look in my fathers eyes told me he was not joking at all. Can you imagine me in my Sunday best attire, pencil high heeled shoes, well made up face and pushing a car? Words cannot describe how I felt. From that day onwards I always prayed each time I rode in that car.
Another one which I will never ever forget was when Auntie Sue (mummy’s little sister) was getting married and I was to do the second bible reading and the vote of thanks. That morning my dad kept on shouting at me to hurry up because I was always the late one. He said; “I would leave any one who was not ready by the time I finish getting dressed behind”. I was just about combing my hair when I heard him start the car and drove out of the garage into the drive way. I thought he was just threatening me and that he would certainly wait for me outside. I became alarmed when the car did no halt outside like I thought it would, at this point I did not care about my appearance since I was not done dressing up then. I dashed out of my room running as fast as my legs could carry me, I waved and flapped my arms and I screamed “Wait for me, Wait for me” but my dad did not stop. I was panting and gasping for air when I finally stopped running. It was very obvious I had being left behind and I returned home with lots of tears in my eyes. I couldn’t go alone even if I wanted to because where the wedding was being held was quite a distance and I certainly didn’t have the money to charter a taxi to get there. I thought of going by the regular public transport (trotro) at the lorry station but that will take me forever and the wedding might be over even before I get there and to think that all the hours I had spent rehearsing my bible quotation and my vote of thanks had all got in vain was enough to tear my heart apart!! The mere thought that I will not be able to exhibit my “mpanyin s3m”. I really don’t know how I made it through the rest of my day. Guess you might be wandering if I learnt my lesson? Well I did that day and for a couple of weeks but I soon went back to my old days and I am still battling with punctuality now. Bad habits they say are hard to break!
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