MY PICTURE AND THE MARK
It all happened one fateful evening when my neighbor’s children were about to go fetch water. I was always happy going with them because I knew we would play along the road. It was always fun as children to fetch water in groups, with our little rubbers that could not even bathe a grown man, but we were always happy going with friends to fetch water. Rich kids will not understand, lol.
That evening, my mum had told me not to go with them, that there was water at home, and that we would be leaving soon for a tarry night. It was a Friday evening. I disobeyed because I did not want to miss the fun with my friends.
I took my small 10-liter container and joined them. We began the journey to the compound where we used to fetch water back then. Normally, the journey was smooth and we played as usual. We used an iron-made truck with two tires to carry the rubbers. Those of you who used to fetch water those days will remember that truck, not wheelbarrow o, although I also had my rocket encounter with our wheelbarrow. That is a story for another day. Some people would sit inside the truck while others pulled it. After a few minutes, those inside would switch places with those pulling, and we continued like that. While pulling, we would run and act like we were driving real cars. The play was risky, but to us, it was fun, maybe because we never knew what it meant to pay hospital bills or buy drugs.
The journey to the pump where we fetched water was smooth and nothing happened on the way. It was on our way back that everything changed. Truly, as the popular adage in my dialect goes, "uka mkpo itiehe nte unyong."
After fetching the water, all our rubbers were loaded into the truck, including my small 10-liter container. The truck was now heavy and its weight had increased. It was my turn to push and, funnily or foolishly enough, two of our friends sat inside the truck again while I and another small boy were left to push it. You can imagine how heavy the truck was at that point. We managed to balance it and started pushing, running as usual.
As we were pushing, the boy that was helping me suddenly ran back to pick something, leaving me as the only one holding the truck. Because the truck was too heavy and I was light, its weight hijacked me and I hit my chin on one of the iron angles of the truck. Immediately, the lower part of my chin tore open and blood started gushing out. All the play stopped instantly.
I can only imagine what would have happened if it was my neck or head that landed on that sharp iron angle of the truck.
My longest 24 hours began when I got home. Everyone started shouting. I had been maintaining my cool, but immediately they saw the wound and screamed, I burst into tears. My mum came out, looked at the wound, and said, “I warned you not to go to that pump but you refused. Okay, go and treat yourself.” That was all she said. She is not the type that talks much. She went back into the room and continued her business. At this point, the pain was severe.
My father returned home that evening and met the unexpected scene. He started talking and yelling at me, although I deserved it. After he noticed that my mum paid little attention, he took me to a pharmacy and the wound was treated.
When we got home, my mum had already served food and said to me, “Go get your food there, eat, and take the drugs you were given so that by tomorrow you will have strength to go and fetch water again with them.” Did I even have the appetite to eat? Throughout the night, I could not sleep well because of the pain. It lasted until the next morning. That night was truly my longest 24 hours.
I continued to manage the pain for about a week before I started to feel better. After the wound finally healed, it left a scar on the lower right side of my chin. That scar, mkpo editi, is still visible today.
I believe it all happened because of my disobedience, and it is a story I will always tell my children about the consequences of not listening. The mkpo editi is a visible reminder on my chin. But I learned my lesson that day and have always been careful when using that truck. I also do everything possible not to take my mother’s words lightly, because that woman truly sees things ahead.
So do not blame me. I was only a kid, and everything seemed like fun back then. But now, I seriously hate rough play.