CHILDHOOD BLUES

As a teen, I read a number of those motivational/self-help books. They made a lot of imprints on my young mind as I strove to discover myself and find my own peace. The impressions included among other things the value of seeing the glass half full, making the most of those time wasters that we don’t have control over and “seeing romance in common place”. The latter informed my love for nature and small little things. Instead of drinking my glass of water, I could be drawn to the impeccable curvature of the glass rim; the purity of water itself or my thought could be projected to the glitter of splashing water, the wave front rippling from a pebble dropped into water, the pattering sound of rainfall on lush vegetation. It made life both beautiful and deep.


Recently, I saw a little boy playing by the trough of a fountain. He appeared so absorbed, muttering to himself and making gestures as if he was following the movement of something in the water. I came closer and asked if there was a fish in the pool of water. As I chatted with the boy, my childhood practically rolled out before me. I am tempted to relive the years of my innocence!

As a child, I loved the sight of fish in water; the sight of swallows or wild pigeons making their nests and of course, the twinkle of Christmas lights. This was before my admiration for other school pupils who wore glasses (I thought they were very brilliant); eagerness at seeing the medal award ceremony in a major sport event; my grip for all fine arts and encyclopaedias or handling a burette. I remember the dimensions of my thoughts as I looked again and again at the pages of my first book of world atlas. As the male hormone was let down, there came an “unfounded” rebellious character especially in church settings. My followership of football replaced wrestling as well. The rebelliousness was unfounded because it was just a protest against being stereotyped as a good boy. My inner self always felt betrayed by my rebellious outbursts. Almost sadly, I am still very agreeable to authority.

The above is by no means an exhaustive list of my childhood. I grew up into the sort of fellow who still has a penchant for all that is mentally stimulating, including all the gizmo of this techno-age. We are truly older versions of childhood