#walkhome?neveragain!

For Jeremiah Makubuya whose father gave him a sound beating for loitering around town instead of being at school on Tuesday morning, I am certain he will forever have second thoughts about being in the wrong place at the wrong time. The Police found the five-year old wandering in Kapaapali zone, Mulago area during school-time.
As for Makubuya Senior (I now gather he is a clan-mate- his name is Katende), he has experienced first-hand, the power of social media. He was filmed by somebody on their camera phone, delivering blow after blow, as his child yelped in pain in front of his schoolmates. 18 of the best. And they were loud. Which means they really connected.

Well, I pitied Jeremiah. He must have been in agony. Then, as the punishment was being administered, and afterwards. It is a beating he will not forget in a hurry. As is the case with social media, the video spread like wildfire, as it was shared on Facebook and WhatsApp, and before 2pm, had received plenty of views.

People said it was a teacher and called for the closure of the school. Others wanted the unidentified male arrested together with the lady dressed in an apron, who was watching the happenings as she stood close by with a group of little children. Some pondered the drastic decision of homeschooling.

It later transpired that this was a father punishing his child for an act of indiscipline. Agreed, the beatings were brutal, but some may argue that if that child had been kidnapped or knocked down by a car, things would have been very different. The other debate is that this is a father who cares for his child- we have seen other non-existent fathers who in such a case would say, “Ah, that child is stupid like its mother!”
I know there are other ways in which that message would have sunk, to ensure that Jeremiah does not do another wander around the village. Sit him down and give him a good talking-to.
Show him gory pictures of children who have had their throats slit. '
Put him in a corner for five minutes- one minute for each of his years.
Refuse him food. That’s a basic need, you never do that.
Call a clan meeting perhaps.

One afternoon as I rode home in taxi (home was Mawanda Road), I thought I spotted someone I knew in Wandegeya. There was a group of kids, boys and girls in the Buganda Road uniform, walking and playing and staring at TVs on display in the shops. For a split second, I ignored it, and then something made me turn my head again. I saw MY son in that group of kids. Probably walking home.

Mark was already at home. I asked him where Peter was. He said he hadn’t returned yet. What had been happening of late was that Peter didn’t want to ride with Mark (those things of one getting fed of sitting on the lap of another ) and so I had to give each of them fare (you know how it eats into the pocket?).

Peter arrived around Looking extremely tired, dusty, dishevelled. His backpack was slung over one shoulder. I was waiting at the door, arms folded, mouth pursed into a tight sumbusa.
“Hi Mama. You're home early!”
“What time did school close?”
“What do you mean? We finish at 4pm.”
“Oh, so where have you been all this time?”
“I walked home.”
“You did what?” I was now yelling. “Don’t I give you fare to ride the taxi?”
He looked at the floor.
“I asked you a question. Why do I give you money for a taxi? Do you know how dangerous it is to cross those main roads on your own?”
“A policeman helps us cross the busy roads.” This boy was on a totally different planet.
I was livid. This child was not seeing my point. My fertile imagination had already drawn up all sorts of grisly images- broken bones, skin and teeth on the tarmac, clothes ripped, Mulago casualty ward. Oh!

“Get inside the house. Do your homework, bathe, have supper and get into bed. No football today!"

And then I got onto the phone.
“Daddy!”
“Yes?”
“Can you believe that Peter walked home today?”
“Oh, he did. Did he lose his transport money?”
“I don’t know, I asked him and he cannot offer any credible answers!”
“Calm down.”
“Daaaddy! How can I calm down when this has happened? Does he know the dangers on these our roads? Bannange, this child will be the death of me!”
“Cool down, this can be managed. Please. Okay, talk to Mummy.”

He handed her the phone and I loudly repeated my anguish. 
“Why did he walk home? Doesnt he know how dangerous these roads are? What with these careless taxi drivers. We always see these stories on the news.”
At least she was beginning to see my point. I had someone on my side. Yeeeh!

“Is he there? Let me talk to him. Calm down. I will see him on the weekend and talk to him.” (They usually spent weekends with the grannies.)
They spoke for a few minutes and then Peter handed the phone back.
“Daddy for you.”
“Yes Daddy.”
“Lexi, look, don’t burst a nerve,” he said calmly. (That’s Daddy for you. Mr. Calm.)
I was quiet.
“Boys will be boys. This should not surprise or scare you.”
“What do you mean?” It was like he was speaking Mandarin.
“Peter is only being a boy. Let him explore. Let him learn. Let him experience.”
“Uh?”
“Yes, we all did that, we got yelled at and caned for it. But we remember those experiences so well. They let us grow up.”
I shook my head. Thank God he couldn’t see me.
“Okay Daddy.”
“Yeah, calm down. I will talk to him when he comes on Saturday.”
And with that Peter was saved.

During Mark’s graduation ceremony recently, Peter gave a speech.
“Mark, remember how we used to play, how we fetched water from the well, how we followed Mummy everywhere... and how we used to walk home everyday?”


Then he flashed his very infectious smile.