KIDS SAY THE DUMBEST THINGS
Maybe it was my bushy face or maybe it was
my receding hairline that inspired the little rascal to add me in the not so
coveted scroll of his ancestors. Or maybe the little bugger is seriously
retarded and blurbs out whatever comes to his mind...
I got the shock of my life the other day
when, while walking in my neighbourhood, I came across two kids playing in a
pool of muddy water. Like the good Samaritan that I believe I am (It still
takes a village to raise a kid, right?), I asked them to stop playing in the
muddy water. They were like three or four years old give or take. A boy and a
girl.
“guka?” called out the boy.
guKA! GUKA!!! Say what? Where did that come
from! My heart must have skipped a beat
or two. I thought I must have heard him wrong so I winced my face, (o_O), to
try and figure out if my ears had played a trick on me. The little girl, God
bless her, although confirming that what I heard was right came to my rescue.
“sio guka. Ni uncle.”
Fewks! I exhaled. Another proof that girls
are brighter and better judges of character age than boys.
So I left the two young ones to their play
and went on my way. I thought about this new acquired title for the next 200
meters or so then I brushed it to the back of my mind. After all, I was not
convinced how many plates of ugali it would add to my table at the end of the
day if I continued belabouring on it.
BIG
DEAL
Technically I am a grandparent. I don’t
think it is any consolation that the grandparenthood is by association or
inference. You see, my first cousin has a son who recently got a kid. So if
that makes my cousin a grandmother, then I guess it makes me a grandfather
(because it would be foolish to start inventing new terms like grandcousin in
this the 21st century). A grandfather once removed (or whatever it
is that royal families call it when they want to indicate distant linkages) is
more like it.
You would think it is not a big deal until
you get to hear someone mouth the word. It’s quite a bigger deal if you are in
your early thirties and your boys have not even had the opportunity to swim the
marathon of life and successfully hit the jackpot. It doesn’t add up to be acquiring
the prefix title ‘grand’ before you even wallow in the miasma of fatherhood,
does it?
I have my own reasons for being hesitant to
accept the title so soon. We have a multimillion investment guru in this city
who doubles up as a heart throb DJ at Capirro FM and is still regarded as one
of Nairobi’s most eligible senior bachelors in his 70s (citation needed) and
here I am being branded a guka for asking the kid not to play in the mud! Hell,
our Excellency the president is still regarded affectionately as ‘kamwana’ by
his supporters and he is now in his fifties.
THE
TALK
I know I have some few years until my
grandniece starts talking.
Hopefully, we shall sit down and have the talk. The
protocol talk. How does she address me? Am I comfortable being referred to as
guka or not? Shall we be on first name basis or what?
As far back as I can remember, both my
grandparents had white hair and were already respected elders in their villages
by the time my cousins and I were calling them grandies? As far as I am
concerned, I still have another 30 years give or take before the title
comfortably sits with me. Until then, how about the universally accredited
title of uncle or just plainly as Mwas, Mike, MMG, Mwangi or Gituro.
Like everything else which is wrong with
the society and the world, I blame this confusion on politics and global
warming.
