My safe place

My book still smells of her as I bring it it up to my nose.

It feels like it was just yesterday we hung out in my house.I still hear her voice, telling me to stop being a chicken and go for what I want.She was pretty brave for a 13 year old.I remember the way her chubby cheeks rise and give way for her gap-toothed dentition to be seen anytime her face lights up, it's indeed a beautiful sight to behold. Grinning at that memory,I stand the book along with one almost the same size, hitting its vertical edges slightly on the table to make sure its arranged, ready to kept away then a piece of paper falls off.

I stoop and pick it.On it I recognize her handwriting, her words are sprawled all over the paper.I hesitate a little longer before I start reading..

16/3/2009

The Sun is scorching hot as I stand on the pedestrian walk, I have my palm bent on my forehead to shield my eyes from the sun. On both sides of the road right before where I stand there are make shift shops of wheel barrows scattered all over the place. Umbrellas are raised high in the air, sign posts are placed at assumed strategic points for potential customers to see. Speakers are placed on top buildings of Small and upcoming transport companies . They all play a recorded audio of someone screaming out to people to come board their bus, it's on repeat .

The incessant horning of impatient drivers caught up in traffic, forming up to 3 Lanes on the road, does not impend my hearing of the cuss words exchanged my drivers or the ones passerbys hurl at careless drivers who almost hit them. Not to forget the barrow pushers who carry goods so high that they can't see right before their nose, and have to rely on shouting 'uzo' meaning make way.

Hawkers and passerbys are like rashs on a baby's buttocks, too many to count. I notice a sachet water seller trying to convince a buyer that her last sachet is still cold. People are moving up and down as I try to make my way to a bus of my choice. Clutching my bag under my arm I try to avoid being touched by many bus conductors who try to convince me to board their bus.

When I enter one, I make my way to the back,the last seat at the extreme right next to the window. Being the only one in it,I wait for it to get filled. About 5 minutes later,we move.

On the road I look out the window,the constant breeze on my face from it is my way of feeling free like I was flying. Suddenly it stops,we are in traffic.I always avoid eye contact with people so as not to be stared at, just then I see a woman coo and sing to her baby in the next bus. The baby smiles back and my heart feels like it could explode. I want someone to do that for me. I do not care how weird it is for a 13 year to be cooed and sung to but I still want that. Being neither the last or the first child of my parents did not qualify me to be the favorite one at least that was what I thought.I see it all happen,how my baby brother gets the best of gifts during Christmas,gets away with the things he has done, can demand for anything with ease. I also notice my sister's preferences in food are always been considered. Last week we had fish for dinner because she does not like chicken. Whenever I ask my mum to prepare my favorite food she tells me it takes long to cook. When I complain of something, am being told I nag a lot. I get judged alot when the report card comes. The last time I had a fight with my sister I pulled her hair while she used her nails to design my body but my mum says" Do you not love your sister" Unfortunately I cannot give what I do not have. I never forget the way my dad looks at me like an uninteresting object and those words that my mum say after almost every scolding " everything about you is so different unlike people your age" I knew I was different and that was why I was wanted to blend in. I tried but I always looked off. I try so much to smile because I do not want to be seen as the different one. School was a nightmare as younger children would keep staring and pointing at me. I lost count of nights I had chest burn, from crying without making a sound . Unknowningly a tear slip down my face but I hurriedly wipe it and turn round to know if anyone is watching,glad no one is. Then I do the one thing that keeps me sane. I go into my world,there am the last child. I see my dad buy me tons of toys, especially that doll I have always wanted .I see him buy confectionaries on his way home and he gives me the biggest share just like my brother. I see him look at me with love and care. My mum in my world corrects me with love and asks me about school. I see my mum tell me stop being a recluse , to make more friends and be happy at all cost.I get hugs and kisses when I get home from school. I see my siblings ask after school and help me out with school work . I also see my sister smile at me and walk up to me during school hours. In my world I am no different than the others.

Suddenly a car horns past my window that am being jolted back to reality. Then I realize

Am still in a bus heading home

Am still me...still different.