Dad’s Playlist.

Flies Have Short Legs.

If you have not tried to hand wash clothes in silence without that betraying “tsip tsip” sound, then the devil has not visited you! Believe me!  

Sinalo-Ikhaya Nomvete

Growing up is generally hard. You might have had all the best things this world can offer handed to you on a silver platter or you could have had the exact opposite; when you sit and think seriously about it, growing up is hard. There’s adjusting to having to tell your mom that you’re hungry now without crying about it because that is a guaranteed butt-whooping application. Especially from where I’m from! Black moms don’t play like that; if you’re hungry, say so! There is absolutely no need to be howling about it! Then there’s wetting the bed (another ass-whooping application); the classic ‘tooth fairy’ phase, eKasi we called her Makhulu (which happened to be a dandelion, story for another day). This stage was particularly difficult for me; my incisors took forever to grow back! The ridicule I had to withstand was just… too much. Anyways, there was just too much to adjust to growing up. And this is just nature taking its course without adding the hardships life tends to throw at us. 

It is a particularly cold Sunday evening one year. I remember that it was Sunday because I had a sudden onset of pressure from remembering I had school the following morning. The pressure was not because I was going to school. I loved school. In fact, my happiest memories are from my school days. The pressure emanated from a sudden realization that my school uniform was still in the laundry basket in my room and I was standing in the kitchen with the iron and ironing board ready to do my ironing for the week! Goodness me, what am I going to do? “I’m dead! I’m dead! I am so dead!”, I kept chanting as I paced around the kitchen. When I finally had an idea of what to do I quickly ran to my dad’s room to check if he was there. My prayer was, “Father may this man be asleep or not home at all. Amen”. I snuck into his room and thanked the Heavens to find him dead asleep. I let out a sigh so loud I held my hands over my mouth afterward, fearing he might have heard me. My siblings were just about finished with their daily routines and I was the only one moving at high speeds between the kitchen, the bedroom, and the toilet. I gathered my school uniform, went to find the soap in the cupboard, and then went to the bathroom and quarter-filled our vaskom with water. All this time I was praying that this guy should sleep the entire night. 

I started with my shirts, then went on to my grey trousers and then finally my navy blue jersey and socks and tie. Mind you it’s around 6 pm in winter! And we did not have any washing machines or dryers at home then. I had not thought the whole thing through. The only thought swirling in the chambers of my mind was, “Bro, get this done fast and hang these clothes outside overnight and pray it doesn’t rain. And pray harder that your old man doesn’t see you trying to pull a fast one because it will get really sticky really fast!”. So there I was doing my very best to get these clothes washed as fast as I could.

If you have not tried to hand wash clothes in silence without that betraying “tsip tsip” sound, then the devil has not visited you! Believe me!  

It must have taken me some 15 minutes to wash and rinse all 5 shirts, 1 pair of trousers, 1 jersey, and 5 socks and a tie. Of course, I wasn’t thorough with the jersey, socks, and grey! Of course not! I did not have the luxury of time to be thorough! An ass whooping was still looming and I had to get this out of the way as soon as possible! After rinsing my clothes, I checked to see if the coast was clear. Now my siblings, older as they were, had a tendency of acting their shoe sizes, they snitched as flies snitch to the neighborhood that you’re cooking tripe. These guys were like 6-year-olds! I honestly don’t believe it for one second they didn’t tell Dad about my not cooking for the dogs! Snitches right to the core! But, in all fairness, I was a snitch right back. It was a phase I suppose. For all of us. So I had to check the coast because these vultures could be hunched somewhere, waiting for prey to fall and they would swoop down on my carcass! I had to be careful! I wonder how they’ll feel about me calling them vultures before the world. At least I know they can’t go tell Dad. Haha!  

Seeing that everyone was minding their own, I hurried out to the washing line to hang my laundry, happy that I had gotten away with it. At that moment I quite literally could’ve patted myself on the back. I had done such a great job! I strut a suave walk as I entered the house. I had a bounce on my step. Like a boss! 

My father had a saying he liked to recite to me on, seemingly, random occasions.

“Thahla, Umhlaba Wamaqhinga Mfutshane”, loosely translated to “shortcuts cut you short”. Never in my life had the saying made any sense. It left me confused every time he said it and the occasions he said it didn’t help one bit. The dots just didn’t connect. But time and experience, being the best teachers, would soon explain the mystery. I walked into the house, put the vaskom in the bathtub; rinsed my hands and wiped them dry; went into my room, applied hand cream, and walked to the living room where everyone was. Do you know that great calm before a storm? The sense of accomplishment I had was directly linked to it. I had this sense of satisfaction that was a clear sign that hell was about to break loose! Just as I put my tiny behind on the sofa to relax, there was a great BANG! that echoed as far as the ear could pick up! And then, like in the movies, a calming sound of rain like a flowing river hit our roof. I was crushed! I could literally spell out what was about to be my fate way before it happened. 

I quickly ran to the bathroom, got the basin, and ran outside in the pour, trying my best not to fall! Grabbed my clothes and rushed back in. In the heat of trying to get everything done, it had slipped my mind that the forecast had predicted it would rain that very evening! But my troubles were faaaar from over. As I walked in I bumped into my father who was walking out of the lavatory. The bang of thunder had woken him up and he was in a bad, bad mood. All I wanted was to run away or blame someone for why my laundry was still soaking wet. I could’ve, in hindsight, blamed the weather. But I would have to explain why I left it out there until this time. Lying not being my strongest point, I most definitely would’ve been foiled. So I just stood there looking at this guy’s eyes, crimson with sleep deprivation; thinking of a thousand ways this could end, and all of them were bad! I was shaking with fear. This is not because this guy had hit me before. No. It was because my skin remembered to the very last detail how painful it was when he did! 

He merely tilted his head as he looked at me. For a moment it felt like a blank stare and I thought he maybe went back to sleep (Because, you know, it’s possible. This guy was once a soldier with the ability to sleep on a branch. So this would come as no surprise). But as soon as I flinched, the stare became a scowl because his eye caught the content of my vaskom. His facial expression was a mixture of anger, disappointment, and disbelief. His had twitched an “Explain yourself!”. I was reciprocating an explanation with my stutter when he silenced me with a question. 

“How many times do I have to tell you that flies have short legs? Or have you already forgotten about my remedy for forgetful minds?

You know what? Stay right here! I will bring the stick myself!” 

This would be the second time my father would hit me. Usually, people say, ‘The third time’s a charm’. This was not to be the case. This second beating was going to be so severe, he would not have to hit me again. In fact, it was so hard, you are actually reading about it. 

Sigh. 

He manned the rain outside for some 5 minutes before he came back with a stick with the width of 2 man-size fingers, took me by the arm, and dragged me to the room where he told me to lie face down on the bed. The first thresh on my ass was so loud, so painful, I could not even bring myself to cry! We all have had an acute pain that was so agonizing, so brutal that your whole body goes into shock and you can’t even scream! I was there! That lash went right to my soul. Right in ‘the childhood’! The ones that followed were just child’s play compared to it. I mean they were painful! But man, the first lash was vintage! It was the stuff legends are made of! King Kong ain’t got nothing on it. I felt goosebumps grow like grains of sugar under my skin! Its agony blocked my body from feeling anything else. I was numb. I started questioning reality. Am I really being beaten? Am I still alive even? If I am not dead, will I come out of this alive? In all honesty, why didn’t I do my laundry on Friday, the day I usually do it on? And as I said, experience is a teacher because in the peak of the storm (See what I did there? I bet you didn’t) my dad’s ‘mantra’ came to life. 

I thought I had it all figured out. I had the perfect short cut and it was foolproof. Little did I know what tomorrow held. 

In our walks of life we are often met with difficult situations and most times the quickest, shortest solution seems to be the best. In truth, sometimes it is. But that is only some of the time. In our rush to reach whatever goals we have set for ourselves, it is always tempting to find an easy way out or a shortcut to get it done. But in that process of jumping steps on our way up, we stand the risk of missing pivotal milestones for our growth; or, worse yet, slipping and falling to our demise! 

Do things the right way, at their right time and the fruits thereof will be bountiful and sweet!

In all things remember, Flies Have Short Legs. 

My name is Sinalo-Ikhaya Nomvete. Sometimes I write stories and sometimes people like, comment, and share.