Boy in a hurry brings back childhood memories

He was between eight and 10.

And... about to overtake me in the queue. Now. Queues are quite significant in London. Everywhere you go in this city (and country), a public gathering will have a queue of some sort. Shopping. Buses. Stadiums. Traffic jams. Schools. Dining rooms. Even getting in and out of mosques and churches. You cannot jump the line. It is taboo and may cause serious friction if messed.

I watched the boy and he was slightly nervous.

Having raised children and a parent you are always going to have a soft spot for any little person, yours or someone else’s. Children are sacred.

“Are you in a hurry, young man?

I expected a rude answer.

Youngsters and youths in London can be as unpredictable as wearing new clothes for the first time. You never know.

The boy shot me these eyes. They had a mixture of innocence, desperation and pleading.

One hand clutched a reddish-brown plastic bag. With his thumb and index finger of the other hand, he made a shape of number eleven, sideways, narrow.

As if keen to NOT be heard by anyone else in the queue ( and other busy shoppers), the boy said with the two fingers very near his pleading eyes: “A bit...”

Ha ha!

Just a bit of a hurry.

A-bit.

That phrase. I almost choked with laughter. As well as tears. It was so sweet.

And he still showed me the two digits with his fingers to emphasize that he was NOT in a rush but, only, just, slightly.

WHY WAS THAT FUNNY.

We always associate haste with adults. Children under the age of ten hardly rush. After all, they are always running and playing and screaming and yelling at each other. How can they be SLOW? They always seem to be at high speed.

“A bit.”

Very funny.

For around two to three seconds I mulled over his expression and those two fingers. Seconds. My mind dashed back to when I was a little boy. My paternal grandfather was a well known preacher. One of his churches was Azania Front (these days Kivukoni), Dar es Salaam, and he was revered. Respected business folks, foreign visitors and Cabinet members flocked to listen to his humorous preachings. Reverend Anaeli Macha wrote a lot, and was a popular radio broadcaster. If you see some of us Machas writing and running YouTube videos, now you get their origins.

Apart from “the word of God” Pastor Macha was fond of teaching etiquette and good behaviour.

Being nice costs nothing, he would insist. He would quote Matthew 7 : 12 “Do to others what you would have them do to you.”

He did practise what he preached. Which earned him so many admirers and his 1991 funeral, which was a huge event.

There is a story of babu walking home in his sunset years in Kiboriloni (Moshi) – where he retired to – and being confronted by a thief. The chap held a knife and viciously, threatened. Relaxed and using his communication skills, granddad managed to calm down the mugger, then walking and chatting charmingly, with him, took him home. He requested my grandmother make the chap a cup of tea and then some hot, Chagga food.

Within time the robber became one of the household helpers subsequently, earning himself a permanent job as a security guard. Never robbed again till his old age.

This is one of the many stories of Babu Macha who, as a priest, writer and philosopher, inspired us in the family. Every now and then, a situation wraps its branches around you and me. Mind and heart, dance and twist and shout with each other as we wrestle with a problem. During those moments, previous teachings might crop up.

So we shoot back. Recalling childhood memories. Grass eating animals like cows can offer us a hint plus a photograph. They eat in two chapters. In the first, cows quickly chop the grass and swallows it. Later, having finished and relaxed, they bring out the grass. They then chew it, slowly, properly. It is called rumination or regurgitating.

Regurgitate.

So …?

In a sudden flash I was, “regurgitating” childhood lessons.

Faced with this youngster in London, I felt pleasantly elated and couldn’t help laughing. Even though the boy had spoken in hushed tones (so that no one else would hear his plea) the shipowner laughed. The people around me smiled and beamed pleasantly.

I had been third in the queue. I let the boy “in a bit” of hurry go through. Smiling happily, the couple ahead of me did the same.