The Left Slap!

Towards the end of the Idi Amin regime in the late 70s and through the turbulent 80s, there were some parents who were well connected and connected to the people who really mattered – in Bank of Uganda, Ministry of Finance and Ministry of Internal Affairs. It was important then to have a friend within these organs of government for then, getting access to foreign currency, was not as simple as walking into a foreign exchange centre like we do today. You had to go to Bank of Uganda and apply. If the bank turned you down, then it was to the black market to try your luck there. The ministry of internal affairs was also important because then you could not just leave the country. The government had to know why you wanted to go abroad and they would decide if you were going to travel or not.

Some parents who had access to foreign currency decided to take their children to schools abroad with the favoured places being St. Andrews, Greensteads, Greenacres and The Grange - all schools in Kenya. After the Kenya stint, it was off to the UK or the US.

I suppose parents sent their kids abroad because they had lost faith in the education system here and supposedly schools abroad or international schools have a higher and educational system than home grown schools. And another thing they supposedly instilled the kind of good mannerisms that our parents desperately wanted us to have. But was that so? Hmm!

My parents instilled in me the need to say grace whenever I had a meal and grace would often go along these lines: “Thank you God for the food we are about to receive. Thank you God for everything and may we be mindful of the needs of others’. Amen.”

It was and still is a nice and simple prayer. However at school abroad, they had a different kind of prayer and this is it: “Rub-a-dub dub, thanks for the grub, yeah God!” Is that not a hip prayer? And I could not wait to say when I was home on vacation. One evening at supper I belted it out. When I was done there was silence. And it was the most uncomfortable silence – the kind that sent shivers through my system.

And then Mr. Bukumunhe lost it. “Is that why I send you to school abroad? Do you think I send you to learn stupid things? You think mocking the lord is funny? What has gotten into you?” he said with a fury. But I understood Mr. Bukumunhe. I knew when to get up and leave the table because I knew all too well what was going to come next - the left hand. After apologising I got up to leave and the left hand struck and just missed me. The score: Dad-0, TB-1

The following vacation I was back with yet new foreign manners. At school they always told us not to be shy and pick the piece of cake or whatever it was that was being served that made us comfortable and that we thought we could finish. My mother on the other hand always told me that it is polite to pick what is nearest to you.

And at a friends’ house when we had gone visiting, the plate with queen cakes was being passed round. However, the cake that I wanted was at the bottom of the pile. It was bigger than the rest and had more icing too. And with fingers crossed, I hope that the other ‘beady eyes’ of my friends had not spotted it. They hadn’t. And when the plate was finally before me I went for it and as I did, I looked up just in time to see my mother looking at me with an aghast and horrified face.

I had been caught. So what the heck I thought to myself. I have already been caught so let me carry on. And not once but three times was I caught going for the cake that was out of reach. When it was time to leave and as we clambered into the car, I soothed my right cheek because I knew what was going to land on me as soon as we were out of the gate – the left hand that is. And the left hand came with such a fury that I thought I was hit once but when we got home my sister told the left hand had moved so fast but she was able to count at least five slaps. Obviously, there were no other outings for me that vacation. The score: Mum-1, TB-0.

Still at school, we were discouraged to use our hands when it came to eating. We had to learn proper table manners. Hands were for burgers. Even eating chicken, we were taught how to strip all the meat from the bone using a knife and fork.

And it was the summer vacation and yet another outing that was bound to end with the left hand being administered yet again. At this function there were not enough knives and forks to go round so obviously it was us kids who would have to make do without. “Ha” I said, “but I need to have them.” And with that I walked into the living room where the big people were sitting and helped myself the last knife and fork on the tray. The other kids freaked out at my move while in the living room, there was eye communication between my parents – as in ‘what is wrong with this boy and are you going to give him the left or should I?’

I knew my drill whenever I was in trouble with my parents. Sooth the left cheek and prepare for the left hand to land. But this time I was with both my parents so it wasn’t just the left hand, but the right hand too! Talk about manners – at least they could have warned me that it was going to be the left and right! Final score: Parents-2, TB-1.