africa

Can We Ever Be Young Again?

black kids 2

Can We Ever Be Young Again? Basing on Nabaasa’s memory, it turned into a wording.

Can we ever be young again and fall back in love with the past? The little things, so silly were some, that would make us laugh. Will they make us laugh again?

The thrilling runs and shrilling screams through the demonized dust and twirling leaves blown about by the raging winds in the tropical storms before it rained, the dashing dances in the rain, the public baths at the door step, veranda or the green patch in the compound next to the road on a sunny day with no damn given about who was looking? Oh, that innocent nudity.

Will the world ever seem so beautiful again? The fire nights, shielding us from the cold fangs, listening to stories from gran’pa, gran’ma, papa (rip) and mama, with the crickets chipping in the darkness behind us, owls hooting and at some rare nights, real sounds of prowling beasts of the night were heard….leopards? Tigers? We were kept guessing.

Oh and were night dancers (bukalabanda tales)…..Let us not even go there. Their clanking wooden sandals echoing through the cold, dark nights while hitting on the floor still chills me to the core. Don’t you too?

Can we ever be young again? When so much of anything was literary for free. No worry or care for the responsibilities of tomorrow but what game to play & with whom. When it was love, pure and endless that is all we knew and haters, something about which we were just so blue. You will fight with your playmate now and be hugging two minutes later. Sometimes offering yourself to them to beat you so as not to report you to the elders that you have hurt them. Oh, how corruption started so early.

When what was at present is all we knew and the future? A mystery. Something we left for the old. Maybe perhaps our worry would be about whether when we wake up the next morning, our toys will be as perfect as we left them.

So much I cannot recall but you who is reading this, can serve yourself from the buffet of memories and a cocktail of flashbacks. I have only triggered just a few. To help you remember the ones you had.

But here we have aged and grown up too and yet musing over, where all that went to. Maybe they will be the stories we will tell our kids so.

Dear Nabaasa, it is quite unfortunate that We Can Never Be Young Again But If People Stayed Together In peace and Love Then Such Moments Can Always Be Lived Despite Of What Age We Become. Remember, We Only Live Once.

Categories: africa, childhood, life, Uganda, village

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