Childhood

Wild child

I recovered from the slap my Neighbor gave me was two weeks after my ears stopped dripping of pus and blood. It is normal to grow in the midst of drunk men from where I come from and it is difficult not to become one. I was seven and curious, fragile and mischievous.

Three days before I turned eight years old, I was idle but didn’t ask the devil to make me his workshop. My Neighbor had a local brewery bedecked with mighty iron drums ;rusted by constant heat and fermentation, kwarya and under-washed langa’s . Her mighty drums always caught my attention having seen them hiss and make the coolest bubbles I have ever set my eyes on . Her crowd of customers and flies was what got me wondering what awesomeness her hands made . The same reason gave me the best slap of my life. Sometimes we are driven into madness by our village people but on that day I guess , i wore my favourite shoes and walked into it.

In the dark of the night I crawled into the brewery with my cup at hand to get for my self what my mom had clearly stated was a drink for those who were old enough to die. As my tiny hands stretched towards the ocean of booze to get my “Genesis” , the slap came for me, hot, strong and deafening. I still haven’t told my mother what happened that night . That was how The name “mbig” came to stay.My Nieghbour gave it to me and I couldn’t complain.

Miidong