When the cassette tape played, I was seldom interested in the lyrics—how likely was a 6-year-old to care? Yet I could feel sorrow, compassion, and sadness in the singer’s voice. I imagined someone hurting her. Was she hit, betrayed, lonely? Her voice held a mystery I wanted to uncover, but she was miles away from me. Since I could not unravel the enigma, I let the thought go. As I grew older, my mother did not grow tired of playing the cassette tape. I could not hide from hearing it either, unless I could afford a roof over my head. One evening, during the holiday and with no homework to attend to, I had to ask her. ‘Mum, who’s this person always sad when they’re singing?’ ‘You mean all this time, you don’t know it’s Dolly Parton? And who told you she’s sad? When you truly express how you feel, it is not always a sad tale, my girl. Do you even know what this song playing is about?’ ‘Yes, ma. It’s her coat of many colours, just like the one Joseph had, right?’ ‘Eh en. Only hers was give...
He was seven years old, in basic 2 when his mother dragged him across his primary school hall because he attained the third position in his class out of 30 pupils. On their way home, she yelled, hit, blamed and threatened that if he dared to come third again, there would be no more privileges like tv, games, sports, swimming lessons, etc. When they got home, she summoned his private tutor, passing the leftover anger and frustration on the man who had been tutoring her son for the past six months. “If you think that calling you three times a week to teach my son is a joke, you are the joker here. I pay you better than any of your clients, yet my son still comes as the third-best pupil in his class. Is it that those who came first and second were created specially or, do they have seven brains in one head? You better fix this in the coming term because there is nothing meant for my son than to be the winner. No place for third or second place in this house!” “Why do you always want ...