Dysfunctional Family - Season 1 - Episode 3

Episode 4 years ago

Dysfunctional Family - Season 1 - Episode 3

..LUBESHA..
Life ain’t nothing but a rollercoaster of emotions. At times it can be fun, lovable, easy while at others it can be messy, dark and sorrowful so I’m gladly settling for the latter as no words can define how heartbroken I felt as I stood outside my parents’ house premises.

Looking back, it was almost impossible to grasp the bitter truth that both of them lay dead on the cold floor inside that beautiful house I’d not so long ago called home. I know this is going to sound savage for a 13 year old boy to say but am gonna say it anyway. Whoever said that men don’t or shouldn’t cry, whichever is which, should be castrated for saying such bullshit!
The pain I felt at that moment was so intense that I stood at the gate for over an hour, doing nothing but shedding tears. And then I remembered mum had said I had to leave as soon as possible so I tried to move but couldn’t. I was shaking. How would I get to Zambia, alone?

“Grandpa Maybin stays right here in Kampala,” I thought out loud but shook my head a millisecond later. Going to ask that man for any assistance would be a disgrace to mum’s memory. If she were in her grave already, she’d probably turn. If there was one man she had hated while she was still alive, it was Grandpa Maybin. According to her, I’d eavesdropped on some of her fights with Dad, Grandpa Maybin was a bad influence on Dad and thus was the genesis of all our problems.

But I have to move from here, I thought and took a few steps away from the gate. Without thinking twice, I turned and ran back into the house where I threw myself at mum’s lifeless body.
“I can’t do this, mother. I miss you so much…please come back..come back to your Lubesha.” the tears flowed freely.
Both mum and dad were dead so you’d wonder why I was only hurt by mum’s death, right? Well, if Dad hadn’t changed his attitute to bad ever since we relocated to Uganda, I’d have certainly missed him.
I cried for over fifteen minutes until it dawned on me that no amount of tears I shed was going to bring back either of my parents so I stood and wiped my tears. It was time to go to Zambia…only heaven knew how I was going to get there.


I grabbed my small travelling bag which contained all the necessary documents I needed to travel and left the house.
I somehow managed to get on a bus going from Kampala to Lusaka though it’d pass through Nairobi, Dar-Es-Salaam to Mpika to Lusaka. The journey would take days, this I knew. But what to do with the little money that I had in my possession? The drive from Kampala to Nairobi took so many hours that I even lost count. The bus came to a stop in Nairobi where people got out to ease themselves and buy some refreshments and snacks. I got out too to take a piss and grab me some water to drink. I was hungry but was short on cash so only water would do. I was literally forcing myself to practice forced fasting.


An hour after the bus had hit the road again, a fat woman who was seated beside me said to me in Swahili, “Ninekuwa niliona umefanya tu tangu sisi kushoto Kampala, je, kitu cha kula, mtoto(I’ve noticed you’ve only had water since we left Kampala, would you like something to eat, child)?” I had spent four years in Uganda so I knew how to speak Swahili.

I replied, “Hapana asante (no thank you)”
“Usiwe shy…here, na baadhi ya(Don’t be shy…here, have some).” she was handing me a burger which I wanted to politely decline but my stomach betrayed me by rumbling. The woman assuringly smiled at me while nodding her head so I gratefully took the burger. “Asante.”


Next she handed me a soft drink which I appreciably took. As I ate, I was looking at everything and everywhere but at her.
“Where are your parents, mtoto?” she abruptly asked me, catching me unaware such that I almost choked on the drink.
“They are both dead,” my tone was flat.
“Oh my,” she gasped. “I am so sorry..what can I do to help?”


“You’ve already done more than enough by giving me this food. Lesa amipaale (God bless you).” “Pardon?”
My smile came naturally. “I said God bless you…only I said it in my mother tongue Bemba.”
“Asante(thank you)… God bless you too, child.”


The woman told me some cheerful stories such that I was saddened many many hours later when she dropped off in Dar-Es-Salaam but not without giving me some food first. “Take care, mtoto. May the Lord cast his blessed hand upon you.”
“Amen.”
Tears stung as the bus left for Mbala. God, life is tough. I’d gotten used to that woman on the few days that we’d spent on the bus and now she was gone..just like my parents.
To cut a long journey short, I arrived in Lusaka after five days…that is from Kampala to Lusaka. It was close to midnight when we arrived. Everybody got off the bus but me. I was rigid in my seat while holding on tight to my bag when the conductor came to talk to me.


“We’ve arrived so am afraid you’ll have to get off the bus.”
I looked at him with pleading eyes. “Can’t I spend the night here? I only have a vague idea of my destination and the way it’s really late am afraid I won’t make it. And the money I have won’t be enough for me to book a taxi.” “That ain’t my problem, boy! You can sleep at the station for all I care but just get out!”
His harsh tone forced me to my feet. I was dead tired and sleepy but I got off the bus and started roaming the streets of Lusaka. I was clutching tight to my bag while looking over my shoulder when I felt a painful smack in my face and then a tackle swept me off my feet. I tasted dirt as I hit the ground and before I knew it, my travelling bag was snatched from me.



I watched the tall figure run off with my bag in his possession. Well he was just wasting his time as there was nothing valuable in the bag cause even the little cash I had was stashed in one of the pockets of my cargo shorts. I couldn’t call out to him and tell him there was nothing to benefit him in that bag lest he gets frustrated and kill me so I stood and ran off without an ounce of a clue as to where I was running to.


As I ran, I almost ran into two kids my age who were running in the opposite direction. “Where are you running to?” asked the male kid. “Run back to where you are coming from, boy!”
The female one was breathless as she said, “You better listen to him!”
And so I joined them without even knowing where we were running to or what or who we were running from. I heard the siren minutes later as a police car cruised towards the direction we were headed. Then it pulled up with a loud screech and three policemen disembarked…everything else after that happened so fast. The policemen were chasing us and the next thing I knew, the three of us were caught.

“You little rascals,” snarled policeman 1 who looked the most fierce of them all. “You thought we’d never catch you, huh?”
“I-” I tried to speak but was forced to keep quiet when policeman 2 slapped me hard across the face. This one seemed to be annoyed at the universe for some reason cause his face was a scowl.


The two kids and I were brutally shoved into the police vehicle and driven to the police station where we were thrown into a cell.
Policeman 1 stood by the cell as he smirked and lit a cigarette. “Stealing money from people and committing all sorts of petty crimes all in the name of being street kids, huh? Disgusting!” he spat at my feet. “Well, by the time we are through with you, you’ll be afraid of even picking money you find tossed on the ground in the streets!”
Okay there was a mix up here so I fought my phobia and spoke. “Sir, you’ve got it all wrong..I don’t- don’t even know these kids..I just ran across them while running away from someone who stole my bag. Am not a street kid, sir.”
“Nice try, boy! Am too old to buy such cheap tricks so try that with someone else!”
“He’s telling the truth,” said the female kid.

“Zelipa!” the boy scolded. “Don’t involve yourself!”
“No, George, we can let him pay for our sins!”
George? Why did the boy have to bear my Dad’s name? The policeman rolled his eyes and repeated, “Nice try.” with that, he walked away.
The following morning, a policewoman passed by our cells and with the aid of George and Zelipa, I explained my predicament to her and much to my surprise, she believed us.
“Am releasing you on only one condition though,” she calmly said. “I’ll have to take you to your aunt’s place and she has to confirm first that she knows you.”
“No problem,” I told her while wondering if I’d remember the place.
I did remember the place after making her drive in circles for a while and once at aunt’s, the woman hooted. Aunt Juliet herself came to see who was at the gate.
The policewoman and I got out of the car and aunt froze for a while after seeing me but she gained composure sooner than expected.
“Hi..are you Mrs. Juliet Musongo?”
“Um, yes.” she crossed her arms and gave us a bad eye.


The policewoman cleared her throat. “Do you know this boy?”
Aunt eyed me from head to toe before shaking her head. “Am afraid not…In fact, I’ve never set eyes on him in my entire life! Who is he and what business does he have here anyway?”