Growing up as a child

Life can be a thorn of roses, especially when growing up in the house of a stringent and disciplinarian father. It is worse when he is a conservative and a perfectionist. I can’t remember any time when I felt totally secure without harbouring the fear for punishment even on the minor errors committed.
The disciplinarian was always on our neck. Growing up as a child, I was reserved. Strains of the same reserved nature still trail me today in my twenties. As a reserved child, father never really understood whether I was happy of or not, whether I had something I needed or not. So, even though I needed anything, I could not pass my request directly to him. I merely swallowed my wishes and let the agony burn in me in silence. The same attributes also characterised my younger brothers.
But, mother would always endeavour to listen to us. She was a vital intercession between us the kids and dad. However, there are times when out of our inborn fear for dad, we would even dread to see face to face. We would always hide away whenever he was around.
Though reserved and shy we were, father always expected the best out of us. For instance, being himself a teacher, he expected us to be top performers in class. It is for this reason that he always lectured us on how bright he was at school.
“I was always top of my class,” he would say
He expected us to participate in numerous co-curricula activities like dance, drama, the choir and sports. He personally played football in high school and college and was highly respected. But for having made it to a teacher training college, he could possibly have joined one of the established football clubs in the country.
However, that was too much expectation out of us. For failing to instil confidence in us from an early age, we could not do anything that could easily make him a proud father from the outset. The fact that confidence lacked in us, it was too hard for us to be outgoing or to venture into extra-curricula activities for that matter.
Nevertheless, his conservative nature gave him hope. He still had the idea that our outgoingness and confidence would ‘naturally’ come out at the right time, since he never ‘lacked’ such attributes.
As fate would have it, we never used to perform excellently in class. We were ever criticised on such poor academic showing. Whenever we endeavoured to do our best, he would not offer us a tap on the back. He would rather say on a serious note, “You could have done better than that.” Poor we.
The major problem with an over disciplinarian cum conservative father is that he will always look at your views as insignificant to him. He never easily accommodated our views since he always portrayed himself as the sole claimer of knowledge. The best he can do is to turn you into an automaton. He has a time frame for every stage of life you’ll pass through. His duty is to ensure the remote keeps working as you grow into the various stages of life he would wish you to undergo.
But, as we grew older, we tended to resist such autocracy though, mildly. When we began to have our way in many situations, he would regard that as defiance of authority. It would be worth it if we asked for permission to every little or petty issue we would wish to partake of.
Initially, he regarded the choice of our future career as his preserve. We were ‘remote controlled automatons’ so how could we define our future career without his involvement? Advice could serve better, but not coercion. He regarded the latter with prior importance since we would easily comply to every one of his dictate courtesy of the fear he instilled in us.
As a teacher and as a conservative, he believed we could make good teachers just like him. He therefore tried hard to push us in his way of belief and perception of things.
“As a teacher, you will always be marketable,” he always informed us.
What would happen if we told him we wouldn’t wish to take on the noble profession? In most cases, someone usually aspires to do something in the way of ones role model. But, was he our role model? He never instilled the confidence and spirit of noble teachers in us.
In growing up as a child, I came to realise, many years later that one of the best gifts a parent can instil in their offspring is confidence. But, right from a tender age, this was lacking in us. We perceived almost everything in stringent colours. If you become bold enough and tell your senior about a mistake they have made or are about to commit, you are scoffed. Often times, you are punished. How can confidence grow in such a tender heart and mind?
But at least, he managed to see to it that my elder brother ended up in a teacher training college. He would have wished his eldest son to go to the very teacher’s college he went to in the early eighties. Such a control of course came to pass when my elder brother was far into the voting age. Would he swallow the dictates and controls any more?
One of the worst shocks seized dad when his eldest son swooped churches without his consent. Dad was mad at him. But my brother would not withdraw his decision.
“He should know that I am a grown up,” that’s what my brother would tell me. After many years of exercising no independent decision on his own, it was high time he defied authority and acted on his own.
Father has come to realise that things have changed and he needs to act more liberally.
I might not be alone in this fate of growing up as a child. I remember one of my friends telling me that he never has anything important to tell his father. The two can’t easily hold a talk with each other. In fact, he professes, “I only talk to my father when we are quarrelling.” To him, it is not absurd. He grew up knowing that as a man, he was supposed to be tough.
Steve on the other hand was born a left handed guy. However, his late father, being a disciplinarian and conservative as he was, made sure that Steve used his ‘right’ hand instead.
“It was hard,” Steve confesses. The father even instructed the teachers at school to make sure Steve used his ‘right’ hand to write. At home, whenever Steve would pick food with his left hand, his father would bang that hand. Eventually, though painfully, Steve adjusted. He now writes with his ‘right’ hand though the left one is stronger. He can throw a stone far when he uses his left hand, but he is not good at writing with it.
23 year Isaac Abilu however has a different experience. The affection between him and his father is evident. He is ever communicating with him on almost a daily basis. In their communication, such kind words like ‘dear son’, ‘dear dad’ are not elusive. He attributes this to gender in the family structure. He has five sisters. He is the only boy and that is why his father banks so much affection on him.
I don’t exactly understand whether my childhood was hidden somewhere in the face of affection. In growing up under the roof of a conservative and disciplinarian guardian, I understand he wanted to curve us into better citizens of the world.
This would only happen in the face of stringent laws and observation of such laws to the letter. Perhaps, the reserved status which grew inside became demystified when I ventured into writing at the age of fifteen. It was at that age that I strongly felt I wanted to say something, which couldn’t come out exactly as I wanted.
Partial relief exuded into my selfhood when I took pen and paper and began to communicate my alien thoughts in a tangible form. Here, it seems, is where my life rotates.
Dad might have been right when he said we could make better teachers. Chinua Achebe once said that a writer is a teacher who needs to re-educate his people. Perhaps, he was wrong since it is not a matter of chalk and blackboard.
In growing up as a child, it hasn’t been an easy experience though. I wonder how things would be if I was close to my father from the outset.

Joshua Masinde.

The (un)lost dream of love

I had a crush. It was sort of real. An authentic one, it was. I was the shy type (I have never been too close to any lady, apart from my mother. Moreover all my siblings save the second last, are boys­).
Did I know it was all coming? It was impulsive instead. Initially, I only had dreams. This time round, it was real. I spotted her. She was real, found somewhere in the dreams I ever had. It was kind of sweet weirdness.
I couldn’t hold back and let the dream to have this babe kill me. Where do I begin? I was in dilemma. The mechanics and genes of the body got to work impulsively. We bumped into each other. It seemed natural.
I was overwhelmed. For lack of something concrete to say, the mechanics of the body would do the work.
Beauty lies in the beholder’s eye. She’s one of the most beautiful lady I ever set my eyes on. An angel. My perfect dream. She inspired numerous passionate, lovely and innocent feelings in me. She was my dream. But, how could I capture it? And keep it in my heart. I have had an attractive stint in the lonely backyards. Till when?
If I find the one to inspire my heart, I will give in to her. It came to pass. I had seen her, after crossing the Nile.
My dream. It will come to pass. I besiege you, Lord, thou art in heaven. She will be (sweet) mine forever.
She’s a lovable type. A smiling angel. Eyes sparkling after a stare into my eyes. For heavens sake, she’s looking into my heart. I need loving…everlasting loving. I need one to hold, to cherish, to love and to honour for the rest of my life.
One day, two days, a week, two weeks, still together. But, nothing much to get the wheels rolling. Tension abound. Reason? Most masculine eyes on her. I am a humble chap. I am a broke bloke. She’ s loaded. Perception sounds louder than doubt. I have not told her anything, though.
But, matters of the heart…lonely, lonely heart push me in a tight corner. I cannot take it any longer. I drop the bombshell…. “Dear Angel…..een. I liked you even before we knew each other. I am too lonely…. ‘be mine so we can’ share a future of love and happiness together…” Wow. The message is gone. It defied the cold night to reach her in the lovely warmth of her bed. Relief. But, tension. The response! I don’t know. It might turn on a new page. Will I suddenly fall from the sweet soft leaves of our infant relationship friendship to the cold ashes in the dustbin? Damn it. I must struggle on.
Risk taking is a better option. The bombshell had struck the heart I desired, like a sweet sword of flame. But, the effect was quite undesired. What the hell is this?
Next day, she sauntered toward me.
“I need some time with you.” Tension…
“Outside,” she hinted. Far from the crowd. A lecture is in the offing, I felt it coming. My heart beats sympathise with me. They turn into drum beats instead. I am off balance, but still admiring her ‘Angel’ frame. I wish I could have it for a mutual meal every day-a symbiotic one. It will come to pass. I perceive it.
The brief stint confuses me. I am thrown into a deep of ‘loneliness.’
My heart is stubborn on her. Will I easily let go? No. My much desired affiliation dream with her hangs in balance. I have not talked much to her neither has she to me. This pricks my conscience. It is funny how the secrete attraction inflicts emotional pain. But, the silence betokens something positive.
The only grand communication going on is between the eyes. I survive on optical nutrition. I can’t have enough of her though. Damn me. Her charm and beauty have bewitched me. I am going to run crazy. I am now careful not to run into another crush. Reason. I am damn sure there’s gonna be a comeback between us. Similarly, I don’t want to harbour more wounds to the ones I seem to ‘nurse.’
Instead, I will treat any lady with suspicion. I won’t easily date any of them. My Angel should come back. She will come back. I am waiting still in the coldness of loneliness and hope.
Come back. I still need. More than ever.

Yours truly......

Joshua Masinde

The Prospect of East African Political Federation encrypted in the myth of reality

The fate of the East African Political Federation hangs in the confusion of “fears of the unknown rather than anything concrete.” Hon. Maj. Gen. Mugisha Muntu said on Friday 11th at a conference in Makerere University.
Despite the gains which have so far been accrued like the establishment of the Customs Union, confusion still looms on whether there should be a fast tracking of a Political Federation. Talks and consultations have been on-going in three East African countries on the way forward. Should there be a gradualist process which foresees the consultation and establishment of the Common Market, Monetary Union, Economic Federation and later Political Federation.
With the Customs Union protocol already in its early stages of implementation, the discussions on the Common market protocol are going on. The timeline for the consultations is two years. This process, as opposed to the Customs Union, which involved Uganda, Kenya and Tanzania will also bring on board Rwanda and Burundi which were newly admitted to the EAC.
The people of East Africa would wish to get to know how they’ll benefit from this integration process. Whereas it’s “still hard to get work permits in some member countries, borders should be opened,” Hon. Mugisha articulated.
While Hon Mugisha put forward the suggestion that all the integration processes should be done within the umbrella of a Political Federation, other people disprove this. Consultations carried out in Tanzania indicate that 25% of those consulted favour the fast tracking of a Political Federation. In Uganda and Kenya, 56% and 65% support the fast tracking process respectively.
Mr. Bweseli Akabway, who chaired the committee for the fast tracking process in Uganda, revealed the findings from Uganda, Kenya and Tanzania show an eagerness with which more than 70% of the populations consulted, wish to see the dawn of the East African Political federation.
Specific observations as political, economic and social recommendations were notably diverse in the three member countries.
“In Tanzania, people need to be sensitised about domestic land tenure system,” Akabway stated. Similarly, there is the need to build their (Tanzania’s) capacity to improve competitiveness in trade and industrial sector.
Recommendations from Uganda indicated the need for member countries to open up their labour market and representation in leadership. The issue of Buganda federation also needs to be addressed to remove the bottlenecks it is likely to project.
Recommendations from the people consulted in Kenya show the need for not only the drafting of a federal constitution, which should be adopted through referendum encompassing the people of East Africa, but also the procedure of universal suffrage and rotational voting for the federation president and the legislators.
On Economic recommendations, Mr. Akabway enumerated that “the people of East Africa would like to see more tangible benefits from the integration process.”
Social recommendations foresee the rigorous promotion of Kiswahili among member states, especially Uganda and harmonisation of the education curriculum from schools to university.
However, there is still debate on how this process should be conducted.
Mr. Brian Bwesigye from the School of Law expressed the need for a grass-roots based approach in the on-going consultations for the integration process. The leaders tend to betray. This explains why the prospects for the East African Federation were in 1977. It was due to the differences between the deceased presidents, Idi Amin of Uganda, Julius Nyerere of Tanzania and Jomo Kenyatta of Kenya.
“This elitism disease is killing us,” Mr Bwesigye decried. He dismissed particular confusion on the way forward for the integration process as a confusion of the selfish minded leaders. “Which to start first? Are we doing Political or Economic integration?”
There should be a clear cut process that involves religious, cultural and other grass-roots leaders as well. The process should be devolved from the elitist cocoon. But, in the face of some rigid leaders some of who have traversed the political divide from the 1960s, political will might pose a greater challenge than the little mayhems already foreseen.

Joshua Masinde.