Junior and the Neon Green Hotpants

Posted by yz on Friday, March 06, 2009 in

Mr. Ndinabasilu sat on the balcony of his bungalow and was at peace. On the side table next to him was his tea, done just the way he liked it with milk fresh from the farm and a small bowl of roasted groundnuts. The rich smell of it wafted around him mixing with the smell of cut grass, becuase Aloysius had finally cut the grass. His wife was overseeing bath time of Ricky, their three year old grandson who had come for the weekend. Silivia, the house girl was in the kitchen finishing up on supper and the relaxing sound of pouring water came from the boys quarters. Aloysisus must be bathing. Finally. Mrs. Ndinabasilu had been nagging about getting the boy to bathe. Frankly the rich smell of sweat mixed with loam didn’t bother him. In fact if he was honest, Mr. Ndinabasilu thought it reminded him of days gone . Tonight though, he was pleased because it would be one less complaint at the supper table. When he finished with his tea and his newspaper he would go watch the news then supper would be served. Yes, all was well in the Ndinabasilu household and would be well for the rest of the evening.

He took a sip of tea, perfect, and threw a handful of groundnuts into his mouth, crunchy!, another sip, aaah, and then he put the cup back down. He unfolded the newspaper in his hands then paused to look around and sighed with satisfaction. He shook the newspaper to straighten it out when the sound of an engine caught his attention. He put the newspaper back on his lap and looked down at the gate as a honk broke the peace of the Household.

Aloysius came running out of the bathroom, buttoning his trousers as he went, slippers slapping against the beaten murram and caking his feet with dust. The boy sweated at the drop of a pin and from where he sat Mr. Ndinabasilu could already see the sheen of sweat on Aloysius’ face. He sighed, Fiona would nag as usual then.

The gate swung open, Aloysius hanging on for dear life to the one on the right that always seemed to have a vendetta against any car passing by, dodged the black premio that drove through. Looking at the driver, Mr. Ndinabasilu was filled with curiosity. It was his youngest son looking very...determined? What could Junior be looking determined about? And why was Junior here on a Friday? Didn’t the boy have plans? He must have though because Junior stopped at Aloysius and said something and Aloysius kept hold of the gate instead of swinging it closed. A quick visit then. Mr. Ndinabasilu breathed a sigh of relief.

Ricky ran out of the house just then a look of glee on his face. His grandmother followed at a slower pace.

“CAAAAAAAAAR!” Ricky cried hitting the side table and pouring the groundnuts as he came to a stop. Noting the mess he pointed at the groundnuts “NOWNUTS!” and then popped one in his mouth. Mr. Ndinabasilu winced. But Junior had parked by now and was stepping out of the car.

I should give the boy some money to buy shoes, Mr. Ndinabasilu thought as an old shoe came into view. And socks as a rather old pair also made their entrance and vase...Dear God! Why can I see Junior’s…Mr. Ndinabasilu’s eyes slowly travelled up a leg he had never dreamt he would see and came to stop high up, too high up. Why? Because Junior was in neon green hot pants. Junior was in neon green hot pants!

Junior was fully out of the car now. He didn’t stop to close the car door but strode purposefully up to the balcony. The sight of him, a grown man, thier grown man, in neon green hot pants had silenced both his parents and Ricky was eating groundnuts from the floor. The little boy looked up now and laughter filled his face.

“Uncle John is wewawing gween undapants! GWEEN UNDAPANTS!”

Junior had reached his father and he stood in front of him in such a way that Mr. Ndinabasilu could not avoid the green sight and the ashy scarred legs before him which he really wanted to.

“You see these legs? You see them?! Do you see the scars on them?! Huh, Are you seeing?!” Junior was pointing at them. Mr. Ndinabasilu almost wanted to say you didn’t need to point.

“ They are marks of me being man enough to be comfortable by myself! From a young age I have never feared to spend time by myself! Do you know what an achievement that is?! Do you? do you? DO YOU?” Now Junior was leaning in.

Why? Mr. Ndinabasilu silently implored. Why lean in? Do you not realize you are outlining something else I never dreamt of seeing?

“Most people are so afraid of themselves that they surround themselves with other people so they don’t have to hear themselves think! These scars are a sign that I do not! I was a true man before I was a man! So fuck what you said about me playing dool! Antisocial my foot! In fact, my foot is too good to be labelled antisocial! Antisocial the jigger filled, athlete’s foot diseased foot of a senior one boy in Nakasongola SS!

And then Junior turned and ran back to his car, got in and drove, the premio kicking up dust as it skidded down the potholed street struggling to get it's owner as far away as quickly as possible.