I know it's Val's Day & everyone's excited & going all crazy posting about LOVE & love, but me --I'm not there. Yes, the love pinches me, but my childhood bothers me more, so I'm going all skippy about it instead.

I often wonder whether I fell from the sky or just appeared on earth. Everyday people show me pictures of them as a kid. Is it that mom & dad just never thought to take pictures? --I've seen pics of them from that time, so don't tell me NO.  Is it that at the time kids were not allowed to show up in pictures? --I've seen my friends & age mates in pics from that time. Is it that I was just too mischievous & troublesome (Oh, I was, but did I say that out loud? I doubt) to stand in front of the camera and would rather stand behind it? --I was more mischievous than that so don't even go there. Is it that I was probably too ugly they didn't want me to spoil their expensive pics? --Rubbish! as you grow older you grow uglier, but me I'm a fine boy, so definitely I was a finer boy then. Is it that they were too poor to pay for pictures? --Come on! They themselves took pictures. Is it that I was too shy to stand in front of the camera and make tchakap? --Impossible! troublesome kids are never shy. Is it that I destroyed the pics myself? --Unthinkable! it would be like destroying my only dream. Is it that I never grew up, that I was born already an adult? --Oh no, I remember me growing up, the fun childhood, that mischievous kid. Is it that they took pics of me & those pics got lost along the line? --I've photographic memory, but the only time I remember standing in front to make tchakap was the day I received first holy communion. I still remember even the size & shape of the camera used that day, it was a Kodak. Seeing that flashlight winking at me made my soul almost jump out of my body with joy, but I also know fully well that that film was never washed & the pics were never printed (no digital cameras then, so you had to do it the old way). when I was 14 I stole that film from my dad's drawer & sold a couple of textbooks to get money & print, just so I could see myself on a pic, but the film was already bad ...poor me. 

Y'all may wonder why I'm letting this part of me out. On Val's day ppl pour out their hearts. I'm opening a lil part of mine. It may not be the part you expect to see on a day like this, but who cares? As a kid my craving was not for alaska, Or yaourt, Or kwilikwili at breaktime in school, Or cornchaff at the dining shed, Or for playing 'dodging' with the neighbours' kids in the courtyard, Or to have my birthday celebrated (I never had one, but that's another story), Or to watch Sangokou, Kimbo, Pokahontas, Michael Night, & Rosa on antenne parabolique (best we had was this Spannish channel from Malabo), Or staying out till 10 PM just to piss dad off & let him know beating me is pointless coz it won't hurt anymore (he always wanted home by 6 PM), Or to ride a tri-cycle on tarred Mount Mary hill road, Or dropping a knock-out at the window of our neighbour's bedroom, Or burning a camp fire at the football field on New Year's eve & staying up all night just so you're sure new year meets you alive, Or firing my knock-out gun made of plank, rubber and vap (from cars), Or fighting tomato war at the camp against up-barracks (I was from down-barracks), Or playing my band drums made from umbrellas, rubber bands, Nescafe & tin milk containers,  Or driving around with my car made of wires, rubber & motors from a radio, Or playing touch-and-follow on the branches of the trees at E.N.A.P, Or inviting the other troublesome kids in the camp to dance to the tune of Disco Dancer (a very nice Indian song), Frotambo (by Petit Pays, Cameroon) & African Woman (afro song by Fela Kuti, Nigeria) anytime mom & dad traveled, Or sneaking out at night to watch people eat roast fish at Bongo Square, Or escorting the athletes right up to hut one on the day of the Mount Cameroon race of hope, Or following the new recruits (IPs) as they ran around the administrative block rolling in the mud with their bags on initiation day (Kumanje), Or going to school without watering four farms of Buea tomatoes & feeding the pigs, rabbits, ducks & gueese (kuba kuba duck fowl), Or eating ice cream on youth day, Or ....the list is just too long. What I craved the most was to appear in a picture. too bad mom & dad never noticed. Now don't ask obvious questions like "can't you afford that now?" --Of course I can afford a zillion, but what's the point? I lost that craving & any time I say I'm poor I'm not talking about money. I'm talking about not getting the one thing I ever wanted & later losing the closest thing I had to a dream. I remember every bit of me as a kid, but I want to see me. Wish I could go decades back & take a pic, just ONE pic.

Now hear's a lesson I learned from Nyenti when we were watching Cry For Help (one of the first Nigerian movies to reach Cameroon) in her father's parlour. I know she wasn't telling me, or even noticed I was there, and won't even believe I remember, but here's what she said. "...go for it when your gut tells you because if you wait for "the right time" that time will only come when you can't still get the same satisfaction from it." At the moment I just kept it in my head until I could understand.