OUR YOUNG SWEET LOVE…
I think you all know how love feels like when it’s genuine. Most of you probably wouldn’t know though because these days, love is barely true to its meaning. It has lost its gist and these days, people lie to each other for its sake just to get what they want. It’s all fun and games before someone gets hurt. Safe to say though, my love for Esther was true – a kid as I may have been. Because we were still kids, there wasn’t much kissing or romantic action in the relationship. Once in a while she would make me a card for me at school, and I wrote her letters. The cards would be smartly and ostentatiously colored with hearts and sometimes a ‘stick-man family’ with the husband and wife labeled as me and her. It was sweet love indeed. We were head over hills in love with each other.
The one thing I most admired about her was her story-telling skills. I could swear that the girl’s maturity in that field was too amazing. Whenever we found time alone, she would bring her story book along and read me a story, to which I would listen attentively. I gave her my time and she gave me her attention. I discovered my confidence because of her. I felt like we were the only people in the world whenever I was with her. Young as we were, we shared something just too powerful.
The local council would organize a fundraising picnic every two months in the neighborhood park just to keep it alive. Exciting days, I tell you. Everyone would almost look forwards to these, more especially kids my age. The event sure did come around one time and I was with my best friend chowing on one of the hotdogs being sold in the different stalls. I had brought along a bag like most kids had with their toys inside. But in mine, there was something for Esther, whose family had not arrived as yet. It was a jubilant day indeed, with every kid running around excited about the atmosphere. There were jumping castles and the swings were a preference too.
While everyone was busy enjoying each other’s company, I saw Esther a distance away looking around, most probably for me.
‘Esther is here so I am going to be leaving you in a bit buddy’
‘Oh, someone is lucky. Okay buddy, no problem’ and I handed him the remainder of my hotdog and walked over to Esther. The moment she saw me, she took me by my hand and whispered in to my ear, ‘Come, I want to show you something’ and led me away from the crowd. As the scorching Botswana heat shone down on everyone else, she laid a picnic blanket down under a morula tree and showed me the doll I had bought her months before. She had plaited its blonde hair beautifully and it still looked as good as new. With my small arms, I hugged her, our hearts pounding against each other rhythmically.
‘It looks beautiful Esther; I like what you did to the hair’
‘Thank you Brandon, I knew you would like it’
I held her hand and took out the storybook I had brought along from my bag.
‘Today I want to read you a story too. Do you mind?’
‘Wow, really Brandon? I would love that’
She came even closer to me and prepared to listen. I breathed in slowly and began to read her a story titled Tshegalenyanyantswane, a local Tswana tale about a boy whose adventures almost compared to those of the Westerns’ Jack from the beanstalk story. It fascinated her to the pulp and soon enough after I had started, she laid her head on my lap and looked right at me as I read, totally lost in my eyes. I did not have to be told to know how much Esther adored me because it was right there. I saw it in everything she did. Truly, it was young sweet love.