Courtesy of kcparent.com
Previously on millenial zone; https://andrewismme.wordpress.com/2020/09/05/millenial-zone-024-double-life/
Her school uniform was resting on her multicoloured wardrobe waiting for the D-day. A layered grey dress, white shirt, matching red tie with the sweater and a pair of long white socks. Anastasia had devotedly labored with the iron box, straightening the uniform, a task she hates to attend to as Mongoose would attest. She grappled with mixed feelings; a convergence of excitement and sadness on ushering her daughter to the daunting school life.
Meanwhile, Kate had queued in the salon the entire chilly afternoon waiting for her turn to be plaited simple braids as the school guideline dictated. Her dad, on the other hand, was polishing her size 24 pair of shoes at the rear balcony overlooking their neighbour’s neglected kitchen garden that was dotted with unattended spinach, kales and lettuce mapping the small piece of land. He hated the backyard for breeding snails that annoyingly crawled to their kitchen.
Anastasia was anxious of how her daughter’s first day in school would turn out to be. Would Kate remember to wash her hands after visiting the washrooms, or worse still, get the hang of using the tissue after peeing? Would she play around with her mask considering she was not used to being in a mask for say 6 straight hours? What of blowing her nose, would she do it correctly and take care of her handkerchief?
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She had to be the one to accompany Kate to school though she had really hoped Moongose would sacrifice all his appointments just to preserve the day for his daughter’s maiden day, but it didn’t work out. He got a last-minute engagement out of town with a premiere client who was having his books audited.
The day started off earlier than usual being the first time. Anxiety had scared off the wee morning slumber. Her pink bag had nothing to carry apart from two extra sets of masks and a roll of tissue paper since you don’t want to imagine a washroom with no tissues. This is where you draw the line between raising girls, unlike boys. You’ll not find yourself enquiring if there is a school matron who exclusively takes care of young girls’ stuff. Boys come with an easier package, they can pee anywhere and anyhow including having to use a water can while holed in the back seat of a tired matatu delivering an urban family to the upcountry. It will so happen with no one battling an eyelid. In fact, the mama sitting next to you will be like “excuse me, could you be having a wattle bottle?”
The cab made its way to the school and Kate’s face looks unperturbed. She seemed like she could handle the transition. She insisted on maintaining a simple smile likely to suggest, mum I will be all right. Anastasia was very emotional at this juncture. She felt like she was being robbed of her only daughter. She didn’t imagine it would be this heavy to let go of her daughter to the next stage of life. Kate was three and a half years, with no prior advantage of playgroup class where parents pay fees to have kids learn how to hold a pencil, scribble some stuff, make a few friends, learn to pee on their own and most importantly drop the baggage of being around their parents and house assistants.
They walked to the administration block where after formal registration, they were introduced to the class teacher who sauntered them to the class. Kate was welcomed to the class which was half full. It was dotted with several timid faces of kids struggling with homesickness while some didn’t even seem bothered by the absence of their parents. You could refer the latter as noisemakers or quickly coping kids who were already exposed to staying long hours from their folks probably with their nannies or in daycares. They could as well be summed up as bullies which in contrast, had the crying babies feeling sickly and intimidated by the new environment. But, so is life – it trades in contrasts.
Kate was directed to her new sitting area by Teacher Grace. Anastasia would crop up a chat with the teacher just to cement the very important bond. She requested for her contacts and dashed for the formal introduction meeting with the transport manager who was briefing the new parents on various transport protocols and familiarizing them with the school bus drivers. Of importance was the appreciation of the strict adherence to punctuality while picking up and dropping kids to and fro school.
Back at home the house seemed lonelier and unusually quiet, but one thing was at peace and intact – the remote control. Speaking of which, the TV struggled to air non-cartoon programs considering for three and a half years that was unheard of. Aimee, Kates fondly flappy pet dog had no playing partner, at least for now. She would stroll the entire compound carrying a confused demeanor. In the meantime, Anastasia called her mother-in-law to spill over about her eventful morning experience. Over time, she had developed a strong liking for her mum-in-law naturally because she grew up in a very shrewd environment raised by a foster mother having lost her biological mum while she was being delivered.
Mama Mongoose would remind her of a similar experience she went through when Mongoose was joining preschool. Of course, with time much has changed but the emotions are fairly alike. They’d laugh from recalling the tricks used back then for kids to qualify for joining a kindergarten. In most instances, one had to be in a position to hold one’s left ear with the right hand across the head. Pupils used to write in exercise books cut by half just to be economical. Attending school barefoot was mostly a norm rather than an exception. There was also free milk courtesy of the Moi – regime. Private schools were close to rare and so were school buses. Moreover, learning charts were made of sack material and sewed with crochet.
Anastasia felt some baby moves in the womb and had to politely end the conversation. Was she expectant?
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