Sometimes, it was the only way the next meal could be guaranteed. “But it was in spite of that experience that I got to where I am today. Thanks to education. I believe if those girls are able to get good education, they too can climb out of poverty and even become important people in the future.”
We got to a junction, he made to turn right, and then he changed his mind and turned left. The car behind us blared its horn in protest and daddy raised one hand in apology. It was a pointless gesture though, because the rear window of our car was tinted. “For you…” he continued. “You are of a different background.
Your story is different. But don’t ever take what you have for granted. Ordinarily, we should expect that you would end up better than those girls at the traffic light. But you know what, darling? It does not follow.
You also have to work hard, if not harder, because it is easier to climb up on an empty stomach than a full one. You know what that means?” “Yes, I do, “I answered. “Sometimes, hunger is what you need to drive you ahead in life.
I don’t mean food hunger alone; I mean that deep desire to improve your condition in life and be a better person. That type of hunger was what most of us, children of poor parents, had. Unfortunately, after we have achieved success, we are not always able to pass the same hunger to our own children.”
As we approached Aunty Gigis, a popular fast food place, he asked if I would like something to eat or drink. I said I wouldn’t mind. We stopped and got ice cream and orange drink. We returned to the car and continued to drive around. By then, the traffic had begun to build up slightly.
It was approaching noon, and I could see many elegantly dressed people, some of them tightly packed in different cars, the number plates said, ‘About to Wed. It made you wonder if all the people in those cars were the ones going to marry themselves.
But then you would see another car with ribbons and balloons flying around on the roof and you knew that was the one carrying the bride and the groom. I greatly enjoyed seeing all these, the hustles and the bustles. Daddy and I went on to discuss a lot of other things.
When we returned home shortly before one o’clock, Mum still hadn’t come back. At the time, I didn’t think any of the things we talked about meant anything more than random conversations. But here he was in this letter, telling me that the casual drive on that Saturday morning was deliberately arranged by him just so that we could have some of those very discussions I thought were random.
Can you imagine? I blurted out to myself as I sank further into the bed. I propped my head up with a pillow and settled to read more. “A few days before the day we went for that drive, your mother informed me that you had seen your menstrual period for the first time.
I was not sure how a father was supposed to receive that kind of news. I was a bit anxious as I wondered what responsibility this new phase of your Life imposed on me. I knew I had to have a conversation with you sooner or later, but I was not sure how to approach it or even what to talk about. After trying several approaches in my mind, I decided that the best way to go about it was to make the conversation as informal as possible. If I was able to make it look unplanned, there was a good chance that you would be relaxed and be in a proper frame of mind to understand what I was really going to say. Even then, I did not know how to start the conversation until we got to the ice cream place. That was my opportunity” I remembered everything now When we stopped at Aunty Gigis, I had ordered a combination of vanilla and chocolate ice cream. He ordered fresh orange juice. As we walked back to the car, he asked me, “Do you know that sugar affects some women during their menstruation?” I had paused for a second, wondering what that was about. “No, I don’t,”I answered in-between mouthfuls of ice-cream. “Well, he began, “what do you know about menstruation?” “Mummy and our hostel mistress have taught me how to menstruate,” I answered, even though I did not feel that was something I wanted to talk about. I was even taken aback when he looked at me and burst into laughter. “Why, what’s… funny?” “No, nothing,” he answered as he tried to calm down. “I am sorry. It’s just that, no one needs to be taught how to menstruate,” he said. “Mummy and the hostel mistress must have taught you how to take care of yourself when you see your period.” I recalled feeling a slight embarrassment after that. Now, he-wrote in his letter that the ice cream actually provided him the opportunity he needed to start the conversation he had planned all along. “The ice cream helped me to break the ice,” he wrote. I recalled that most of the conversation centred largely on issues around sex and things like that. He said menstruation was normal and natural and it was nothing to be embarrassed about or ashamed of. He said it was my body’s way of telling me that I was biologically ready to be a mother. I remembered asking him if what my friend told me was true. “What is that?” “She said her mother told her when she started her period that if a boy touched her, she would get pregnant.” “Your belt,” he said, pointing at my seatbelt as he fastened his own and started the car. “Her mother told her that?” “She told me that her mother warned her to stop playing with boys because if they touched her, she would get pregnant.” “Well, I think I understand what the mother was trying to say, but that may not be exactly correct,” he explained. “You don’t have to stop playing with boys just because you have started menstruating.
