Monday, 15 August 2011

Daddy, Mummy and Me

' The feeling of arrival when my father’s pink padded shovels swept towards and then squeezed my body before hurtling me through the air and up to his face where his warm mouth pressed against my shoulder then my cheek, just before I buried my face in his shirt collar, was comparable to a baby drawing its first breath.

He spoke gobbledegook, patted my bottom, and saved me from my mother who now decided she wanted to kiss me. She never usually kissed me. My back was facing her; she ordered me to, ‘come’, but daddy didn’t let go. I was lowered just a little and mummy kissed my hair.

She spoke to me in Lozi her tribe’s language. ‘Do not bring trouble to your Master’s door.’

I ignored her and as daddy tick-tocked away and I clung onto his furry ears, she vanished. I was feeling higher than I’d been for some time. '