OMOHEMI

The Naughty me.

Tall, skinny and bouncing tom boy was the young child I was.
I was stubborn, swift to speak and never afraid of trouble. I Loved music [still do] like crazy, dancing was my hobby. SSP- Sir Shina Peter’s "shinamania" was my all time favourite.
I can still remember my younger sister and I entertaining our neighbors, dancing from flat to flat, even at parties we were the centre of attraction when it was dancing time.
I remember how desperately I wished to be a boy, I love to sing too, and I even formed a club with my friends on the floor called “Apple rock”.

Most of my friends were boys and fellow tomboys. I was often well beaten but I was never afraid of a fight; I remember my left handed partner in primary 4 who drew a line with chalk on the wooden seat we shared, indicating “his side” and “my side” instructing me carefully never to trespass, I always did and we always had a good fight. He will give me several punches in tummy, but not without him losing all his buttons and some tribal marks on his cheeks.
I remember dealing with a boorish uncle, who my miracle worker brought home from one her trips to her village .Me and this uncle quarreled almost everyday. I remember him pulling me by my ears to the kitchen, instructing me sternly to do the dishes, I did do dishes with glee, but I left the glasses, cutlery, teacups and sink unwashed! I remember throwing down his tapes from the 5th floor down into the well mowed lawn in my crescent. I remember pretending to run away from home when he tried to beat me.
I remember my mum, scolding me for slapping my sister, I remember her warning my siblings to stay away from me to avoid been beaten.
I remember the young vain me that enjoyed watching me on television as “A tales by moonlight star (a programme for children, where an aunty told stories; it used to be aired on Sunday evenings on NTA. (By the way where is aunty Nkem?)
I remember running to top floor of my crescent with friends carrying ‘water bombs’ (small nylon bags filled with water) and throwing them down with force on our unsuspecting “enemies”.
I remember a white garment pastor running after me in our sitting room; in order to deliver me of the virile spirits my mum believed possessed me.
I remember it all, and laugh, remembering how drastic I have changed.
Remembering now, makes me wonder where that little girl has gone?