Do you believe in ghosts dear dream book? Because I’m certain I didn’t slam the door that hard. Certain. So it banged itself and now dad thinks I have an attitude. What is an attitude anyway? Are we African children allowed to have that? Amidst the slaps the body injuries and what not, that must have died somewhere as I grew up. If I had any to begin with.
Of course I’m not talking to him today. He wouldn’t understand. This isn’t the late 70s, if anything he’s late to the party. He lived a life very different from mine. Back then phones were not that popular, so he bought his first with his own money. But those backward days are over. Everyone has a phone and I don’t because it broke (itself, ghosts I tell you). So we had a heated debate about his priorities and it ended with a strike one notice. What happened to freedom of expression?
Just the other day, I tell him I’m going for a sleepover at my friends place. Of course I have to be light on the details as he’d question everything to his satisfaction. All was well. Until I mentioned the name of the friend and whose child they are. All hell broke loose. Judgement galore. So I asked him whether the problem was the family or that He was undergoing loneliness after mum’s unfortunate departure. Caring act yes? But not to him. He said I’ve become disrespectful and it’s probably a product of the people I’m hanging out with. As if we spend time talking about our parents. The ordeal ended with a strike two notice.
Strike three happened today. That’s what brought me her. This camel’s back is broken. So many straws and no drink. Modern day slavery. Today I came home a bit late. 9pm. This is the time the night begins, again not the 70s. He asked where I was and being the grown up I was, I didn’t feel the need to go into details. He’s raised me to be responsible. Technically, I know I am. Therefore, there’s no need to question my every move. I told him I was out and about, just a bit of fun here and there. HE went on a rampage, how I have time to have fun while my studies are suffering (he had to go there). The debate got heated and I gently walked away, then gently locked my door. But the ghosts of conveniences slammed the door for me. Now my dad is busy banging the door threatening to knock it down.
He says I have an attitude. Do I dream book? Do I? You understand me of course! And I know you don’t think I have one. I love you. Please talk to my dad. I don’t have an attitude and that’s final (said gently). Thanks.
Author: William Kasina | Date Created2017-06-13 04:34:43 | Comments: 0