THE GOLDEN OLD DAYS

Do you ever feel so nostalgic that you wish you could return to the past and relive the beautiful childhood memories? Life in the village was incredibly sweet and pure. I often find myself in this situation and miss my younger self. I miss the good old days when we were young and grew up without hatred, greed, or selfishness. Those were wonderful times when we truly appreciated everything our parents, siblings, and extended family did for us.

I'm referring to when our parents were both loving and strict, molding us with patience, much like a gardener tending to flowers, smiling at every bit of progress their efforts yielded. Yes, my parents were strict, and no wrongdoing went unpunished. The punishments were harsh and painful, but that very pain forged the strength in me to overcome any obstacle. My mother was formidable; she would beat me naked and then make me bathe in cold water before denying me food. But that was then. The trick was waiting until everyone fell asleep, then sneaking into Mama's pot to steal food, something she never tolerated. My father was equally strict and wouldn't tolerate nonsense. He could spit on the sand on a sunny day and demand you return before it dried. I want to acknowledge my parents for being so amazing and always showing such kindness to all of us.

I remember the days we spent herding goats, cows, and sheep deep into the bushes by the river. It was a mandatory chore, and there were no complaints about being girls; our parents ensured we understood our environment. My father would joke that this was to teach us to be loving and caring towards the animals. While herding, we also managed to gather firewood for supper. 

Swimming was a joy, especially the 'dufo mpararo' – the kind that leaves your feet cracked and white after you emerge from the water. I miss that too. While swimming, we'd also catch fish by the riverside to take home. In those days, healthcare was rudimentary, yet people were arguably healthier than they are today. Bitter herbs were ground and consumed to heal wounds, cuts, or pain. Fresh milk, straight from the cow and not processed or sold in shops, was a daily staple. It was healthy, pure, and additive-free.

We shared meals, eating from a single large plate, which my mother called 'sinia.' We relished every dish prepared by my father's wife. We had proper table manners, and no phones distracted us. After supper, we'd have our own Rhumba night at grandpa's house, dancing to Luo tunes broadcast on Ramogi Radio. Grandpa thoroughly enjoyed this and ensured we participated willingly. Grandma would join our dances, singing along and demonstrating every move. We also heard stories, like those of Luanda Magere, which were meant to empower us as women.

We lived without material worries, making do with what we had and being content. Some days we went hungry, but we never fretted about the future, believing everything happened for a reason, to strengthen us and ensure our survival. There was no fashion competition; we shared clothes, and if someone needed an outfit for travel, they borrowed from a neighbor. Shoes were a luxury; I didn't wear a pair until primary school year two. Hairstyles were simple, often just a close shave with a razor blade. Our heads shone like the cheap iron sheets that were highly valued then.

The single-room, grass-thatched house provided shelter, a home our parents worked hard to provide. Sometimes it leaked, but we didn't mind, for it was enough. That grass-thatched house, smeared with cow dung, was the heart of our home, filled with big hugs, warm smiles, laughter, and encouraging stories meant to give us hope for the future. Parents were fully respected, and any transgression led to severe whipping. This punishment was often administered by any family member, a system that, in some instances, could be abused.

Yes, I deeply miss those beautiful, bygone days of our youth. My heartfelt thanks to my parents and grandparents for making those times so wonderful and memorable. I also send much love to my siblings, whom I cherish for growing up with me and for the valuable lessons we learned together.

Home truly is where the heart is. https://youtu.be/ZAYZmIfHEiU?t=36

 https://youtu.be/F28CBQlecvQ?list=RDF28CBQlecvQ  A song by Passenger...remember when we were young