Memories Lessons and Treats

Here is a photo of me in my mother’s florist shop circa 1993. I was in form 2 in boarding school and when we closed we were expected to do our share of chores. Jim my bro (he had finished university or his uni internship I think) and I work at this particular shop for a while. If you look closely at the background, that is Jim on the left back next to a next of fresh cut white carnations in a yellow bucket and near the monstera plant. He was really good at doing the wire and mesh work and making the moss sticks for wreaths and to prop up creeper plants like money maker and monsteras. Mum is on the right hiding behind the newspaper she hated photographs. The shop was called Mariana’s Florist. Jim and I learnt to do lots of things i.e. make bridal floral bouquets, funeral wreaths in round and heart shapes, take care of the indoor plants that we sold...I was very good at sales and our bestsellers were African violets and money makers both of which were said to bring a home good luck and prosperity. We did not do flowers for Valentines because mum thought it was immoral. I never learnt how to do office flower arrangements, but we delivered between 12-20 arrangements to offices restaurants and banks in Nakuru every Sunday/Monday each week. I delivered invoices and did banking when the monthly cheques came.

I once complained about the work saying that that I never got paid, mum listened quietly and she opened the cashbox and handed me some money... I was so elated I forgot to pay attention to that ‘loud silence.’ 

So lets just say that cash was gone in a day with treats and delights. So this was what it felt like to be rich! I could not wait for the next pay out dreaming about the delights I would indulge in for myself.

On Fridays mum attended church fellowship and I was the one who closed up after stock take and walked home. One evening after ‘pay day’ I got home tired and found my mum home early than usual. I made a bee line to my bedroom but found the door locked. So was the toilet and bathroom. Some of the lights on my end were cut. Everyone in the house was evasive about what was up so I went to mums room to see what was going on.

She was in the middle of evening prayers. I sat in with my eyes half closed to avoid a reprimand quietly watching and listening to her daily nightly prayers. She took a while in silence after so kept peeking at her for the moment she gave me her full attention. I then told her there was a problem with my room since it was locked and the lights had also malfunctioned...she beckoned me close to sit by her side. 

“Chiqy I locked your room because your ‘rent’ is late and the lights are out because Reddy Kilowatts doesn’t delay cutting off power for people who do not pay their bills.

**Kenya power in its hey days had a cool marketing and public awareness team who came up with a graphic character

called Reddy Kilowatts**

I gave an incredulous look at my mother... who was this woman I asked myself inside dare not say that aloud.

“Mum, rent? But I am your daughter why do I need to pay rent?”

“Chiqy are we raising you to remain complacent... always accustomed to the things you have in life because you know and assume you are loved and cared for as a given?”

I was floored. I thought about how easy was until then to only complain and to assume that our loved ones will always just be there for us without me doing my part. We take love and support as an entitlement.

I got a long lecture about learning to think about how part of who I was ...this was as a result of the community that held me, loved me, nurtured me in big and small ways..... I sat in silence with that ... for the first time in my young life I wondered where I would pee and sleep that night. 

Thankfully Mum’s tough lesson in life didn’t take too long after the “talk” she unlocked the rooms and restored the power and told me to remember the lesson of gratitude.

After that things were different and I learnt to pull my weight in the community that moulded me with less resentment and more joy.....I went about chores and each time there were “fruits” to reap in that labour it was much more pleasurable to enjoy it not just singly, but also in togetherness in community. I still spent my earnings in treats at that age but it was also a true pleasure to take home or to friends treats that demonstrated my appreciation of holding and loving me. 

A lesson I hope to keep remembering many decades later.