My Eagerness Was Relegated

“Be satisfied with what you have," my mom would say to me.

I had a friend when I was still in secondary school who came from a rich home. My parents were just average parents who could only buy things for my siblings and me whenever they received a little stipend from their respective places of work. Although he spent a lot of money on transportation just for me because my house was not a stone's throw from my school. The distance was alarming, but then he had no choice other than to talk to a cyclist who always took me to school and also brought me back whenever it was time for closing.

My friend, Maria, had a bicycle, which she always rode to school every day. His parents have a lot of money and can even afford the transportation expenses—not just a motorcycle—but they can afford to buy my friend a private car. Then they still went ahead and bought Maria a bicycle. He was using one bicycle and suddenly changed to another one. Being a girl, I became jealous of her. I thought to myself, “I must have this kind of bicycle no matter what.” I ignored the fact that my parents were not buoyant enough to afford a bicycle for me.

As time passed, the eagerness to have that kind of bicycle burned in me. I had known how to ride a bicycle since I was still in primary school, as my dad always gave me his bicycle to learn. It was a must to learn how to ride a bicycle back then, just because of the scarcity of water in my village. I had to learn how to ride just to help my parents fetch water from the public tap made by the government. I ride down very early in the morning and get about five kegs of 25 liters to fetch at home before preparing for school.

Months later, I asked my dad to buy me a bicycle just to ease the transportation fare, but his reply made me mad. “I am not complaining about spending money on your transport, so why bring this aspect into this?’ I could not reply to him, as I had no choice but to take his words.

ERIC MUSAFA

Some days later, I saw the way Maria was riding on her bicycle, which was so comfortable. Everyone looked at her as a child from a rich home. I wanted to take advantage of that to be like her, but the more I tried, the more my dad rejected my offer.

After much pressure, my dad agreed to get me a bicycle. I was so happy to hear him say, “Don't worry, I will get you a bicycle, but I will not give you any money for transportation.”? My happiness knew no bounds after hearing that statement from my dad.

A week later, he asked me to go to the bicycle repairer to get the bicycle he had got for me. With all my happiness, I jumped up and rushed to the bicycle repairer's shop, where I got the shock of my life.

“Oh, your dad sent you to collect the bicycle, right?” I was happy to answer him, “Yes, sir.”.

He showed me the bicycle, and my happiness immediately turned to sadness. I could no longer say a word and could not even say “thank you” to the repairer just because I was unable to get what I was hoping to get. I thought it would be a new bicycle, but to my surprise, it was my dad's old bicycle. “What shame would it be if I rode this bicycle to the school compound? My friends will laugh at me to the extent of not showing my face again,” I said to myself.

When I got home with the bicycle, I could not say “thank you” to my dad. Instead, my face was left just like dark weather, ready to pour down the hell of water.

I have to manage the bicycle to school, as my dad has promised not to give me transportation fares anymore. My first day was not a good story to tell. My friends were laughing the hell out of me after seeing my bicycle. They even gave me the name “old school lape.” I didn't understand the name “lape” until someone told me it was just slang. It sounds like a French word, but I was feeling so ashamed to be called that name.

My dad had already said he would not pay for my transportation, so I had to manage the bicycle to school just like that while my friends kept making fun of me. Their laughter knew no bounds, but as time went on, I became used to it. I later remembered my mom's adage, “Be satisfied with what you have.”.