Their holiday begun as expected with the sound of Adhan. A prayer call that their father made every morning before he'd dress up to watch news then leave for work. Once they rose and prayed along side him in their small home mosque, their father made his way to the second sitting room and turned on BBC to catch up with the cruel world. The boys matched right across and made their way to the black leather seats- cold until occupied by many hours of posterior heat. They turned on the console and their fingers thumped away at the pads.
I had visited Ngugi for the weekend. so this time round, he didn't rise early. We slept late hanging out on the rooftop balcony playing table tennis- their fathers favourite pass time. When we woke up, barely freshened, we went down stairs to the kitchen to look for bread in the pantry and make ourselves some tea by the bar like stools that were in the middle of the kitchen besides a marbled kitchen counter. We could hear his brother's voices roar in distress. One of them must have been on the offensive so panic arose. After having our ginger tea scented with tea masala spice, we scattered through the corridor, past the stair case and joined them. They were fully engaged. So Ngugi, the joker stood right in front of the Sony TV that was atop oak wood. His brothers threw a fit and the other managed to score and break into celebration. Ngugi dashed to the parking lot trailed by his elder brother. He run past the telecommunication mast that was in their yard near the boys quarter. He took a turn up the drive way to the gate polished in glimmering black. His brother gave up on the chase and hollered from the bottom of the slope;
"IWE LINDHA KU, WENAH KUGHEMA, NDA KHWITA!" A threat to kill him if he caught him. Ngugi panting like a worn out street dog with a smile to change the world. Stood their a moment to catch his breath then made his way back to the house through the immediate drive way that lead to the main sitting room. He passed by his mother and said, "Good morning Mummy." uncertain on whether she replied as he made his darted to the second sitting room to meet us. The moment was past them and he had been forgiven. So he suggested they go out and play. Their home was a castle; a neverland. They lived a luxurious central town life on the lavish residential area of Kololo hills, Uganda. It had massive parking space for their fleet of second hand cars and enough compound space for the kids to play football and ride around on their bicycles. Ngugi grabbed his skateboard and made his way to the gate to start them off, He rolled down the hill swerving past the mast with a near miss and ended up in the parking lot sheltered with a blue tent top. I followed right after on the two wheel scooter. I rolled down with ease until I picked up speed then lost control. I tumbled down, fast as an f1 car. I failed to make the turn so I hit the pavement that was right ahead of me and the grass cushioned my fall. Ngugi's elder brother came in right after me and was doing the famous no brakes stunt that Ngugi, invented. He failed to make a wide enough turn to enter the corner. So he went right for the mast, hit the pavement that separated it from the road and landed right into its base. His wild laugh turned to moon silence. I watched Ngugi drop his board in shock and run to call his mother. Their mother came in complaining in a strange language. I stood in awe wondering what she was going to do to us. She picked him and asked him if he was okay. He wasn't! He was trembling like a wet cat, blood spilling out of his mouth hiding his broken tooth. She quickly carried him into the car, raved towards the gate, and took him to the nearest hospital.
He was brought back home that evening and was mad as a scorned woman due to the pain. Ngugi held his giggles for later, I had been taken home early because of the tragic incident.
It was a beautiful holiday despite the tragedy. Many days after, they packed up and moved elsewhere. Their home leased out to the Nigerian high commision, Uganda.
I had visited Ngugi for the weekend. so this time round, he didn't rise early. We slept late hanging out on the rooftop balcony playing table tennis- their fathers favourite pass time. When we woke up, barely freshened, we went down stairs to the kitchen to look for bread in the pantry and make ourselves some tea by the bar like stools that were in the middle of the kitchen besides a marbled kitchen counter. We could hear his brother's voices roar in distress. One of them must have been on the offensive so panic arose. After having our ginger tea scented with tea masala spice, we scattered through the corridor, past the stair case and joined them. They were fully engaged. So Ngugi, the joker stood right in front of the Sony TV that was atop oak wood. His brothers threw a fit and the other managed to score and break into celebration. Ngugi dashed to the parking lot trailed by his elder brother. He run past the telecommunication mast that was in their yard near the boys quarter. He took a turn up the drive way to the gate polished in glimmering black. His brother gave up on the chase and hollered from the bottom of the slope;
"IWE LINDHA KU, WENAH KUGHEMA, NDA KHWITA!" A threat to kill him if he caught him. Ngugi panting like a worn out street dog with a smile to change the world. Stood their a moment to catch his breath then made his way back to the house through the immediate drive way that lead to the main sitting room. He passed by his mother and said, "Good morning Mummy." uncertain on whether she replied as he made his darted to the second sitting room to meet us. The moment was past them and he had been forgiven. So he suggested they go out and play. Their home was a castle; a neverland. They lived a luxurious central town life on the lavish residential area of Kololo hills, Uganda. It had massive parking space for their fleet of second hand cars and enough compound space for the kids to play football and ride around on their bicycles. Ngugi grabbed his skateboard and made his way to the gate to start them off, He rolled down the hill swerving past the mast with a near miss and ended up in the parking lot sheltered with a blue tent top. I followed right after on the two wheel scooter. I rolled down with ease until I picked up speed then lost control. I tumbled down, fast as an f1 car. I failed to make the turn so I hit the pavement that was right ahead of me and the grass cushioned my fall. Ngugi's elder brother came in right after me and was doing the famous no brakes stunt that Ngugi, invented. He failed to make a wide enough turn to enter the corner. So he went right for the mast, hit the pavement that separated it from the road and landed right into its base. His wild laugh turned to moon silence. I watched Ngugi drop his board in shock and run to call his mother. Their mother came in complaining in a strange language. I stood in awe wondering what she was going to do to us. She picked him and asked him if he was okay. He wasn't! He was trembling like a wet cat, blood spilling out of his mouth hiding his broken tooth. She quickly carried him into the car, raved towards the gate, and took him to the nearest hospital.
He was brought back home that evening and was mad as a scorned woman due to the pain. Ngugi held his giggles for later, I had been taken home early because of the tragic incident.
It was a beautiful holiday despite the tragedy. Many days after, they packed up and moved elsewhere. Their home leased out to the Nigerian high commision, Uganda.
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