We are all writers...writers of our very own stories.. Lemme Write mine: When i was small i used to wound my knees every now and then. most of my early days and years My little feet had fresh wounds on it..This was because of utundu, kukimbia kimbia na kurukaruka bila sababu,vigauni vifupii..When my dad sees my wounds,he woulnt think twice...he takes a very good portion of salt and puts it on the wounded area(What a typical African man).ooh it huurts...how i hated those moments.. the salt heals the wounds so quickly my Ade he calmly says while looking at my dirty feet and cloths.He would never let me go to make sure the salt stays..( Deep in my heart i promise myself to nevr let him see or put salt on my wounds again.. Am nursing my knee..Hakuna kucheza.. Few days later..am healed. Back to bussines.. Oops!!! I forgot the promise..going home..straight to him..crying..showing him my bleeding knee.Same foot..same knee...same area.. and this time around the toe as well..Nachechemea...He gives me the is-this-my-daughter kind of a look OR he gives me the oh-Lord-help-me-so-that-i-dont-vunjavunja-this-brat kind of a look..He takes me to his laps...Pass the salt..pass the salt..It hurts to heaven and back.. I dunno but every time i get wounds i will run to him while i knew the salt is waiting for me..Dah..........................................................
Posted on: Wed, 23 Jul 2014 21:59:54 +0000
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