They get away with too much

Last Sunday afternoon, Pudd’ng told me that she was going to church for a practice session with the Sunday school praise dancing group.

“Return home straight after you’re done,” I told her.

“Dah-dee,” Pudd’ng told me immediately she returned, “I didn’t come home as soon as I was done.”

“Where did you go?”

“I took several detours… you know there’s no way I can come home straight from church.”

If I would have tried pulling this stunt with my father, whose church title was Japuonj – which is DhoLuo for, teacher – good old Japuonj would have lost his religion. Straight. Sans corners.

Exorcising odi demons

Me? I am used to the good old school fashioned gospel music. Music that leads me straight to God’s throne.

Still, I let Pudd’ng have her choice of gospel music, which consists of the young new Kenyan contemporary artistes. Most times I look like I have come from under a rock when Pudd’ng tries to tell me about a gospel tracks and dances that are trending. Which I have absolutely no clue about.

“Dah-dee?” Pudd’ng will say; “I want to show you the odi dance style.”

Showing is one thing. But when Pudd’ng insists that she wants to teach Wuod Japuonj – (that’s Dholuo for, “the teacher’s son”) - how to do the odi dance and pulls him off the sofa, Wuod Japuonj inwardly asks: “What would Japuonj do?”

This is what Japuonj would have done: called the church elders to exorcise my odi demons. Back then, in our old church, any dancing was deemed as being demonic.

Mouth slapped to 1946

Pudd’ng has this habit of adressing Tenderoni to me as, “your wife”. To some, it may sound as disrespectful. But I know that it’s coming from a good place. Which is why I let it to slide.

Baby girl likes dropping this term in jest. For instance, you will hear Pudd’ng going in exasperation: “Dah-dee? Tell your wife that short natural hair is in fashion.”

In Dholuo, “your wife” is “chiegi”. It sounds a tad disrespectful when it comes from a child’s mouth, and directed to their father.

For some reason, dad had no qualms when we called mama, “Nya’Manoah”. Which means, daughter of Manoah; who was my maternal grandfather.

If I had dared to tell my father that, “tell chiegi to …” he would have slapped my mouth to 1946. That’s the year Grandpa Manoah returned home after serving in the Second World War.

Treading on chira grounds

In Dholuo, chira is a condition caused by a taboo. Chira is a misfortune believed to be caused by breaking a taboo. Staunch Luo traditionalists believe that, if chira is left untreated by traditional herbalists with a top-secret herbal concoction known as manyasi, it may result in death, an incurable illness, one running mad or ill-fortune.

To others, chira is just a way of trying to decipher inexplicable occurrences. For instance, there are some folks who believed, and others who still do, that HIV as chira.

Kids can sense when their parents have a cold war. And though Pudd’ng may not ask about it, when it is one of those days that Tenderoni and Wuod Japuonj have nil-by-mouth, the looks on baby girl’s face, as she glances from one parent to another, will tell us that she knows what’s up.

Last Christmas, I bought Tenderoni brand new sneakers. After Tenderoni tried them on, Pudd’ng forced her to come to me and forced us to hug.

If I had done this with my parents, my pop would have barked: “Pagas, you’re treading on chira grounds”.

(I don’t know that pagas means. All Luo old folks liked using it when they were incensed. Anyone knows what it means?).