DUF MPARARO.

 

It's halftime, Manchester United has been clobbered 2-1 by Liverpool, and I'm happy and you can all guess why. It's the time I have decided, let me try to sneak a quick one, cause why not? 

It takes me back to a time when I was young, the reality of life had not dawned, let me stop reminiscing so much and get on with the story. I remembered this when someone was narrating to me about someone who had survived from going to the land of the dead after beatings from mob justice on several occasions. 

The story goes like this: the guy was very clever, when he realized after enough beatings from the mob that if he doesn't do something, he would soon join his ancestors, he would start kicking his legs in the air like a dying mule, jerk himself like someone experiencing an epilepsy episode, then he would suddenly go very still without moving a muscle.

 Play dead in short. 

Luckily for him, the crowd would eat it up, and his body would be collected and taken to the city mortuary where on one or two occasions he would give the staff working there, a heart attack or three after seeing a dead body coming to life, and sprinting like Usain Bolt on 100m.

This guy's luck held out for so long, he started teaching others in his hood his technique of escaping the jaws of death. Until one day his luck bade him goodbye, someone had lifted a nine by nine stone block high in the air, released it, and it came crashing down on his head, and he was no more. 

Death had embraced him at last.

The story reminded me of a time, someone, I can't remember if it was a neighbor or a family friend, mentioned that they had seen me earlier in the day taking dives and swimming in a river that was notorious for claiming lives of those who are not careful. 

How in spite of my evasive maneuvers, the instrument of punishment still managed to get to me and cause untold pain. How I suffered embarrassment the following day when I attended school.

From the constant banter from my Boyz, and the constant woishes from the gals in class after seeing and asking about the pink swollen areas that were clearly visible on my skin from where the instrument of punishment had come into contact with my skin. 

I was brown brown by then, and life had not done a number on me like it has right now. I look back now and I don't regret it one bit. The Duf mpararo was worth the beating, however painful it was.