MEMOIRS OF MY SON!
MEMOIRS OF MY SON!
A youthful wet-behind-the-ear-newbie and
the not-so-experienced freshman in the job market: and in a new world where
everything looked like furniture! Yes o' yes, that’d be Sydney: I kid you not.
Wow, come closer, yea, it's him: it’s Sydney! If only someone could know, I was
so scared to even go inside that Great Ward where my Prince was born!
Inside the ward, there waited excitedly, my
Big Brother, Mother-in law, my Sister-in law and can’t recall who else. This
private ward was packed with excited faces indeed, my Son was loved: even
before showing a tinge of hair from his birth canal. I was the only scarecrow.
I got harshly pushed to the front by my Big Brother: Go, go, go!
I opted for the worst and stood holding the hands of my wife, screaming so loud
that I, even me: stopped imagining her pains. She grabbed my poor hands with so
much clawed power I thought she was going to break them into pieces. I hurt!
After eternally surviving the clawed pain,
hers began to disappear and proportionately to the speed: my Son appeared from
the Horizon of this world of pain. I was relived to hear my Son’s voice
bellowed in this ward of painful Joy. Another noise coming from another World.
In a split of a second, the Novice became a New Father as in instant pudding: I
was excitedly happy! The nurse quickly grabbed him to the washing basin to remove
all the gel and helped him and handed back to her Mom. After that he was handed
over to my trembling arms: kissed his forehead and literary saw myself as in a
mirror. Who’s this Boy?
After we got kicked out of the private ward
into the private guest area, I finally had the chance to examine the damage in
my hands: the pain was still there as if I got stung by a mosquito. Only now could
I imagine the pain my wife went through, she felt it and she gave me a taste of
that pain. I forgave her and also vowed in my heart to never go closer to that
ward of pain again: true that as I escape a few years later when my Princess
was born. I became the fugitive of the birthing ward: a new James Bond? My
Sweet Sister-in law named my Son “ZUKO’’ and my Grandmother gave him his
second.
Tata and his Son grew well together: we
enjoyed soccer, watched TV, went shopping and even celebrated The Boks when South
Africa beat New Zealand in the finals of ’95 Rugby World Cup. I was carrying
Zuko over my shoulders: he was hardly one years old but there he was screaming
along with thousands of ecstatic fans on the streets of Soweto. Most White South
Africans were shocked to witness the Greatest Celebration in South African Rugby
History in the Mandela Years: others drove to all their neighbouring Township
and joined the choir. This record still stands as it were.
At 2 years of age, I once asked the brother
to give me a hand as I was busy fixing something in the yard, but the guy gave
me a bear-look instead and said: “Again Tata, I didn’t want to be your son even,
because you called me as I was passing down the street, and I came to you”. Did
I laugh that day, I had stomach cramps?
I loved Zuko so much and he loved me even
better: the guy refused to go to bed before I returned from work, Thembi his Mom
tried to convince the brother and failed was well. His eyes were only his truth
when he saw me. O’ LORD, why do let our kids outgrow our Joy and Happiness? Why
LORD?
Now I am going to say A Prayer for my Son… Dear
God in Heaven, as I recalled I had dedicated my Son even before you gave him to
me! I thank You for keeping him over the years, I am a witness to your Saving
Power. Zuko I pray that you love your wife even more than I loved your Mom.
Live longer than I, Be smarter and wiser in all departments than your Tata!
Never repeat all the mistakes I made in life. Kiss your wife every morning and
call her from work daily. Love your kids, my grand kids even more than I loved
you and your Sister. Stay out of all kinds of troubles by staying with God as I
do. Count it all Joy whether you’re happy or sad.
Happy Birthday Zuko, my Son! 13th
March and the World belong to you Today: Let your Birthday spur you on in
whatever dreams you may have in you heart. My Son fear the LORD and the King (Law):
and meddle not with them that are given to change! I gave you nothing, ask God
to give you all the things I failed to give to you for only Him has the Power
to give You everything. Amen, Amen and Amen!
DISCLAIMER
ALL COPYRIGHTED MUSIC VIDEOS USED IN THIS BLOG ARE NOT MONETIZED BUT, USED ONLY TO HIGHLIGHT AND ENHANCE READING: POEMS, ESSAYS AND NARRATIVES OF THE AUTHOR. I DO NOT OWN ANY MUSIC COPYRIGHT: ALL VIDEOS ARE USED WITH DUE RESPECT TO THE ARTISTS IN FAIR USE MANNER!
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The author would really appreciate your constructive comments based on how you understood and interpret each poem. Poems can mean different things to different persons and all views can be correct as long as they conform to the contents thereof. This is the beauty of Poetry.
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