Untill his demise, Dr. Adhu Awiti was a close family friend. And an uncle. He was more than an inlaw to my father. They were used to each other so much. I knew him when I was a little boy, him and my dad had a special language of mixing Luo and English then speaking it in reverse. Nobody understood apart from them He used to call me Ja Zaire. I was born in the late 80s and named after Franco the musician from Zaire. He was a household name by that time. Calling his name would turn a house girl on. Franco. And by the way, there were no house girls at that time. Only my mothers sisters and daughters of my mothers sisters who would later on get married in the next village after getting pregnant for that man who used to come wisper at our bedroom window.... Nyangi...Nyangi an wadhi yawa. Koth biro. Anyango would leave through the window and come back before sunrise. She used to tell me koko eats children who cry at night. I was afraid but I was cool. After Anyango was gone I would cover my head with a blanket so that it would not notice I was there. This Koko. Everytime I walked across the sitting room Adhu would carry me up like am Ewoi and he is the Giant, then he would sing some of Francos songs. He only knew the choruses. Then he would bring me down and give me that badly shaped 5 shilling coin. I would run to the shop and buy mandas siling siling worth five bob. In my village there were no ice creams, Only mandas siling. I would place them in my pocket, pinch small small and throw quickly inside my mouth. I was selfish. Rest in peace Mweshimiwa. Someday I will tell my children about you.
Posted on: Wed, 16 Jul 2014 05:21:29 +0000
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