“Shingi, wake up.” said Rudo, who had decided to end her son’s sweet siesta. It was another school day, the ultimate Monday blues and Mrs. Mazvita needed to get to work early. She had gotten her paediatric license at the beginning of the year and as a new comer to the work force, Shingi had to be subjected to early morning wake ups at 05:50am. Shingi had to commute with his mother, since her workplace was along the direction where his school was stationed. Bruce had told the young lad to discipline himself by having to wake up all by himself, but the boy was in love with the warmth of his blankets. Shingi yawned and mustered the energy to resuscitate his tired body. The boy noticed that his mother had already worn her uniform, which had a pin on the breast pocket with the initials D.O (Doctor of Osteopathy). Shingi immediately said to his mother, “Good morning mother.”
“Good morning son. Be quick and go take a bath. I have a lot of important paper work waiting for me at work.” said Rudo. The boy did as his mother bid: bathed, brushed his teeth, and made his bed. Shingi was proving to be the ideal child to his parents, though it was all thanks to Bruce giving the boy hints. The number of cases of him wetting his bed was drastically becoming non-existent. Whenever the grownups who were among his parents’ friends were discussing about their children wetting their beds, in some cases he heard about 11 year old boys and 10year old girls still staining their sheets. This made Shingi laugh at their lack of bladder control, though he tended to keep his laughter to himself lest he angered the shamed. He was soon to be turning 8 and he hadn’t once wet his bed ever since Bruce gave him good advice. The once unenthusiastic boy when it came to waking up time and time again to use the bathroom before returning to sleep was now grateful. Shingi was starting to think that there was a benefit to all the troublesome stuff Bruce advised him to do. This however made Shingi’s father rather shocked and awed. Tonde was naturally expected his son to be clumsy, irresponsible and in need of much discipline. He at times attributed this drastic change in behaviour to the maid that they had hired, but sister Chisamba wasn’t at all that well groomed. With further inspection, you’d realise that she was as ratchet as the broadest sense of the term, but she at least did her duties well.
At the dining room, the boy would devour his porridge mixed with chocolate cereal. His father would also join him on the table, but eating a different kind of meal. His father had a taste for tea loafs and coffee, whilst reading yesterday’s newspaper or going over yesterday’s paper work. This was also usually the only time Tonde had time to talk to his child, during the weekdays.
“Son, how was school yesterday?” asked his father, who darted at his boy with a stoic gaze.
“It was good. They are starting a new sport at school. I want to join it.” said the boy, who brimmed with much vitality.
“A new sport, hmm, interesting. What kind of sport is it?”
“The sports teacher calls it hotball. The goal keeper is only allowed to grab the ball; it has 7players for each team, 6 play on the court and each court player is allowed 1 touch.”
“1 touch? Hmm, this sport sounds familiar. It reminds me of a really popular sport from the big cities. Hmm, you said one touch, explain further…” said Tonde who was rather engrossed in what his son had to say.
“Its hotball father, you have to swat the ball like a fly to pass to your friend. Your friend also does the same thing until you score. The ball is too hot so you can’t carry it or hold it. It sounds like fun.” smiled the boy, as he took the last spoon of his cereal.
“Hmm, I remember it now. The sport requires a lot of running and passing. Hopefully you will be good at it. You usually have more fun with things you are good at than things you are terrible at, make sure you do your best.”
“I will father.” he said with a gleaming smile.
“How about your studies, are you doing well in school?” asked Tonde, who seemed more like he was instigating the young man.
“Well… I am getting better at maths and general knowledge father. I will come first at the end of this school term.”
“Really now, hmm… my boy has ambition at such a young age, well I will be waiting for your report card. If it’s anything bad, expect a beating.” he said, taunting his child. Those last words had a frightening effect on Shingi, who feared his father’s belt. Lately he hadn’t been caught in the wrong and he really wanted to continue his fortune at all costs. Shingi’s mother, who overheard their dialogue, walked in, and said, “Baba [1] Shingi that is no way of motivating a child. Don’t use threats, just encourage him.”
“I fear your line of work making you go soft Amai [2] Shingi. The boy should know that one must work hard and do well in school. A foolish person is an expense, the Marinda family spoiled their child, and now he is hugging trees in hope for love.”
Shingi couldn’t help but chuckle at what his father had said, but his mother soon interjected, “Don’t worry, my line of work is just making me wiser anyways, I am sure our boy will do well. He read his story text book to me and finished it all in front of me. I think he will do well.” Shingi felt a tang of pressure but at the same time happiness. His mother was always optimistic and motivated him. His father was rather rigid, cynical and always lectured to him that a man was supposed to be accountable to others and a responsible individual. He initially just believed that his father was just being an annoying, grumpy hard ass, but Bruce mitigated the young man’s feelings by always reminding him that his father was like this because he cared.
This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.
“So Shingi, let’s go, we need to catch the carriage that is waiting for us at the carriage stop. Come along now.” she said, as she unlocked the front door.
“Yes mother,” he said, after her announcement, “Excuse me father.”
“You are excused.” said his father, as he flipped through the newspaper. His son took his plate and placed it in the sink, wiped the table with a table cloth and then carried his belongings.
“Have a good day father.” he shouted, just before closing the door behind him. His father was pleased by his mannerism, almost as if he didn’t deserve it. Tonde couldn’t help but say, “I surely am blessed with a decent child.”
The early mornings were always bustling with the chirps of birds and humid air. The purple jacaranda tree petals had decorated the ground and cast a beautiful scenery in the morning. Shingi caught up to his mother, grabbed her hand, and walked towards the commuter stop sign. There were many early birds where available: salary men and women, some being teachers, clerks, janitors, security guards and sales people. This was an hour earlier than rush hour, and this was always a good time to travel if someone wanted to be early. Shingi greeted most of the people who knew at the stop, giving them a polite ‘Good morning’. Such things as manners, respect towards elders, and other African etiquette were paramount and it thus made him popular among the grownups in his neighbourhood. Shingi began to see the full results of what Bruce urged him to do, even hearing some of the adults say to his mom, “Your child is a good boy, he has respect towards his elders. You have raised him well.” Shingi wanted to blush, if his skin tone would allow such to happen, but just alternatively grinned like a silly child. As soon as the carriage came at the commuter stop, everyone boarded it, paying 5Kwacha. This was the price tag of boarding commuter carriages, but much more refined private carriages cost a lot more than the regular price. The seats were as comfortable as they would get, but in any case, economy class travel means were not expected to be therapeutic. Shingi opening his comic book magazine, a weekly serial known as Ngano jump. It had a lot of stories, containing a new standalone comic from a new talent in the industry and usually continuations of previous chapters of a continuous story. The story he liked the most was Legend of the Immortals. The writer, who was also the artist, was a talented individual. His illustrations were extremely stimulating, from how the action and motion were conveyed to the detailed background art. The boy was always excited when he read this serial and wished to imitate the professional level art that left his mind in awe. His mother glanced at him, and noticed the popular magazine among boys his age, in his hands. Rudo had no interest in comic books but couldn’t help but comment, “These drawings really do look nice.”
“Yes mother, Banda sensei is so awesome. His art and stories are cool.”
“Hmm, what about the others… This is Ngano jump right? The one with the collection of drawn stories published every week. What do you think of the stories?”
“Well… Boy Hunter by Ngundu sensei is also great, but the story isn’t as good as Legend of the Immortals. Pretty Girl Tatenda is funny but the drawings are lame. The other stories are just average or boring.”
“Hmm, interesting, could you please give me your magazine?”
“Eh?” wondered Shingi who was surprised by his mother’s interest.
“I need it for work, if you give me this copy, mommy will give you money to buy another one.”
“Huh, but… will you give me money?” asked Shingi who was worried about being ripped off.
“There is a young boy, just like you, he is sick and unable to fun things like play with others and walk. If you do me this favour, mommy will give you money to buy more Ngano jump.”
Shingi looked at his magazine and looked back at his mother; as much as he loved his mother, he treasured this magazine more. His selfish nature came into play. Bruce immediately awoke and then answered in the boy’s stead.
“It’s okay mother, you can give the young boy my Ngano jump.”
“Oh, okay, thank you for understanding.” She said, happy that her son was so understanding. Shingi’s generosity didn’t match his facial expression. The boy was angry at Bruce for having engineered his acceptance. Rudo didn’t notice this disgruntled look and immediately asked the boy how much an issue of Ngano jump was. Bruce immediately answered, “40Kwacha.” Rudo at first was shocked at the pricing; expecting it to be way much cheaper, but little did she know that Bruce had lied, posing as Shingi. Shingi disliked it when Bruce took the initiative and spoke on his behalf when he really wasn’t in cahoots with the idea. Ngano jump cost 15Kwacha, 3 times the amount of his commuter fare. Rudo offered her son the money and whispered in his ear, “Make sure to keep this money safe, you know it doesn’t grow on trees, so be extra careful.” Shingi felt really dirty and the duplicity didn’t settle well with him. He took the money, slid it into his inner breast pocket, and thanked his mother. As the boy brooded internally, his mother was looking forward to giving the issue of Ngano jump to a patient of hers. Rudo could have bought the magazine on her own, but didn’t really know where the jump stores where, and, her tight work schedule wouldn’t allow her time to by the magazine. In all honesty, she just needed something to give the young boy at the clinic. Shingi brooded and brooded until it was now his mother’s turn to drop off. Her rendezvous point was just 600m away from his school and now the boy was going to be left alone. His mother smiled and waved as her visage disappeared into the distance. The boy sat next to the window and began to fumble to himself, hoping not to attract attention from people who thought he was talking to himself, when in fact, he was.
“Bruce, that wasn’t cool, I didn’t want to give away my comic.” said Shingi, who looked like a sour puss.
“Think about what you giving away your book means. I am pretty sure that’ that young boy needs it more than you.”
“I don’t like you Bruce, why did you agree?”
“Stop being a brat, you got 40Kwacha, you can always buy last week’s issue and today’s issue.”
“But I lied to mother. You are making me do opposite things, like that word ‘contradiction’ that you always say. Mother will know that I lied to her.”
“Hmm, nothing is ever easy with you, okay… I am sorry. However, you will see what I mean when we get back. The 40Kwacha is just for today. I will not lie to your mother anymore.”
“Please don’t ever do that again, I don’t like you saying things when I don’t want to say anything. If you do that again I won’t talk to you!”
“Okay… hmm, in any case boy, if you want to hear about immortals, why don’t you hear it from me. I was born during the time when there were still immortals, before they were no more.”
“Bruce, I might be a kid, but thinking that you can make me feel better when I gave away my Ngano jump which had Banda sensei’s work, will not work.”
“It’ not a trick and I am not going to lie to you.”
“Well you lied to my mother, why should I trust someone who uses me to lie to my mother.”
“I said I apologised boy.”
“No I don’t want to hear your story. Today be quiet.”
Just like that, Bruce was silenced. Bruce was trying to guide the boy into generosity, but he somehow took the young man’s temperament for granted. Shingi was being selfish and obstinate, but in the end, Bruce’s initiative added something to the boy, a quandary of whether he it was okay for him to give away his comic for the sake of some kid he didn’t know or care about and how obliging his mother made him feel. It was a simple but yet taxing thing for Shingi, but in the end, he started off school… on a rather, aggravated note.