| The Boy Gift |
| HM Books |
| HM Productions Intl. All Rights Reserved |
| copyright 2008 by HM Entertainment Inc. |
Of boys and beans
Inside the matron’s office, a few moments later, he listened bewildered as
another hard woman told him a strange story, and an even longer tale, that
had nothing at all to do with his simple and orderly world, and made no
sense whatsoever.
“You say it is not sick?” he asked her confounded.
“It’s perfectly normal,” the Day Matron assured him.
“And it is not bewitched?”
“It’s not witchcraft.”
“Why is it … different?” He asked her.
“Why?” she asked, exasperated. “Because it is different.”
It was a cramped office. Files and empty boxes lay all over the place. The
shelves along the walls were packed with more files and empty cartons. On
one wall were two portraits of two white women, one old and the other
holding a baby. Tomei recognized the Madonna and Child, but he had never
heard of Mother Theresa, nor ever felt as outnumbered as he did now.
“Where is it from?” he asked the matron. “That is what I want to know.”
“It’s a type, not a tribe,” she explained. “Very rare, but it happens.”
How come I never heard of it?”
Such things never happened to his clan.
“It’s extremely rare,” she explained, talking slowly and clearly, as to a child.
“A strange but normal thing.”
But, she went on to add, the strangest things were getting common every
day.
“It’s all the pills and things your wives take not to have babies,” she said to
him. “The skin-whitening creams and foreign soaps and things you make
them use to beautify themselves; it’s a wonder the babies are born with
any skin at all.”
“Not my wife,” Tomei informed her.
His wife Grace was a real woman, a traditional woman. She did not need to
change her face to beautify herself for him. In fact, he would be very angry
with her if she changed herself. But that was not why he was here.
“Men!” They never ceased to amaze her. “It’s not all about you, you know.”
“Not about me?” he asked startled.
“Not about men,” she laughed. “It is also about us women. We are not the
beasts of burden and baby machines you take us for, you know. We are
people too; people with feelings and needs, just like you. We need to look
good, and to feel good too about our bodies and ourselves. We’d like to be
desired for things other than our fertility and our industry. To be desired for
…”
“Desired?” Tomei was at a complete loss. “Why? Desired by whom?”
“By our husbands,” she eased, “just by you. Not that it ever stopped a
man from wandering.”
“Wandering?” What on earth was she talking about now?
And before he could begin to understand her, she was off on a different
track, dragging him along winding bush trails, full of wild and obscure ideas,
he had never imagined existed. She told him of cell formation, and of
fertilisation and mitosis. She talked of things called chromosomes,
mitochondria and DNA, and about a dozen equally mystifying things that he
had never heard of, and didn’t care to understand. It left a ringing in his
ears.
“Were you there when the baby was born?” he asked, returning to the
more pertinent issue.
“The Night Matron would tell you the same thing too, if she were here.”
It’s a natural phenomenon.”
“A what?”
“A natural occurrence.”
Tomei shook his head, scratched his chin and was lost for words.
“So what do I tell the clan?” he asked himself.
“Exactly what I have told you,” she advised. “It’s a natural phenomenon
and nothing more. I’m sure the clan will understand.”
Tomei settled deeper in his chair, and it seemed he would not leave unless
she told him something he could understand. So she made one more
telephone call, this one to a renowned doctor in Canada. Professor
Churchill confirmed that the boy was perfectly normal and would do just
fine, as long as they kept him out of the sun.
“Out of the sun!” Tomei shot to his feet. “What sort of chief doesn’t go out
in the sun?”
READ ON ...
Inside the matron’s office, a few moments later, he listened bewildered as
another hard woman told him a strange story, and an even longer tale, that
had nothing at all to do with his simple and orderly world, and made no
sense whatsoever.
“You say it is not sick?” he asked her confounded.
“It’s perfectly normal,” the Day Matron assured him.
“And it is not bewitched?”
“It’s not witchcraft.”
“Why is it … different?” He asked her.
“Why?” she asked, exasperated. “Because it is different.”
It was a cramped office. Files and empty boxes lay all over the place. The
shelves along the walls were packed with more files and empty cartons. On
one wall were two portraits of two white women, one old and the other
holding a baby. Tomei recognized the Madonna and Child, but he had never
heard of Mother Theresa, nor ever felt as outnumbered as he did now.
“Where is it from?” he asked the matron. “That is what I want to know.”
“It’s a type, not a tribe,” she explained. “Very rare, but it happens.”
How come I never heard of it?”
Such things never happened to his clan.
“It’s extremely rare,” she explained, talking slowly and clearly, as to a child.
“A strange but normal thing.”
But, she went on to add, the strangest things were getting common every
day.
“It’s all the pills and things your wives take not to have babies,” she said to
him. “The skin-whitening creams and foreign soaps and things you make
them use to beautify themselves; it’s a wonder the babies are born with
any skin at all.”
“Not my wife,” Tomei informed her.
His wife Grace was a real woman, a traditional woman. She did not need to
change her face to beautify herself for him. In fact, he would be very angry
with her if she changed herself. But that was not why he was here.
“Men!” They never ceased to amaze her. “It’s not all about you, you know.”
“Not about me?” he asked startled.
“Not about men,” she laughed. “It is also about us women. We are not the
beasts of burden and baby machines you take us for, you know. We are
people too; people with feelings and needs, just like you. We need to look
good, and to feel good too about our bodies and ourselves. We’d like to be
desired for things other than our fertility and our industry. To be desired for
…”
“Desired?” Tomei was at a complete loss. “Why? Desired by whom?”
“By our husbands,” she eased, “just by you. Not that it ever stopped a
man from wandering.”
“Wandering?” What on earth was she talking about now?
And before he could begin to understand her, she was off on a different
track, dragging him along winding bush trails, full of wild and obscure ideas,
he had never imagined existed. She told him of cell formation, and of
fertilisation and mitosis. She talked of things called chromosomes,
mitochondria and DNA, and about a dozen equally mystifying things that he
had never heard of, and didn’t care to understand. It left a ringing in his
ears.
“Were you there when the baby was born?” he asked, returning to the
more pertinent issue.
“The Night Matron would tell you the same thing too, if she were here.”
It’s a natural phenomenon.”
“A what?”
“A natural occurrence.”
Tomei shook his head, scratched his chin and was lost for words.
“So what do I tell the clan?” he asked himself.
“Exactly what I have told you,” she advised. “It’s a natural phenomenon
and nothing more. I’m sure the clan will understand.”
Tomei settled deeper in his chair, and it seemed he would not leave unless
she told him something he could understand. So she made one more
telephone call, this one to a renowned doctor in Canada. Professor
Churchill confirmed that the boy was perfectly normal and would do just
fine, as long as they kept him out of the sun.
“Out of the sun!” Tomei shot to his feet. “What sort of chief doesn’t go out
in the sun?”
READ ON ...
| With a lot of humour, the author tells us how the community reacts to this strange baby, and how Tomei seeks the advice of a medicine man, who is not entirely loyal to him. |
| The Boy Gift hm books 2007 ISBN 978-1-84728-471-6 |
| Toma Tomei wants to become chief of his clan. But the father of nine daughters has a chance to achieve his aim only if he has a son. So he has great hopes when his wife gives birth to their tenth child. The next morning he is shown his baby – it’s a boy, but ... |
| The Boy Gift by Meja Mwangi |
 |  |  |  |  |
| THIS SITE |
 |
| |
 |
| |
 |
| |
 |
| |
 |
| |
 |
| |
 |
| |
 |
| |
 |
| |
 |
| |
 |
The Boy Gift
