This Isn’t My Childhood

By Pearl Mokgatlhane

As the first droplets hit,
I find myself bolting towards the door on reflex.
I halt as soon as I reach the stoep.
Perfectly manicured lawns, and concrete slabs stretch out for miles on end.

This isn’t my childhood…

I am struck by memories.
Rainy days met with glee.
Just like today,
Many moons back my siblings and I would dash outside to be soaked in the showers,
Our faces raised to the heavens,
Mouths open as we tried to catch the droplets to quench a thirst we didn’t know we had.
Barefoot, we ran around the yard
Finding the biggest puddles just so we could jump in them.
We chanted a song that I assumed had been passed down over generations,

“Pula, pula, nkgonkgodisa ke tla gola leng?
Pula,pula, nkgonkgodisa ke tla gola leng?”

Euphoria when a rainbow blessed the skies,
And rain-soaked Mother Earth turned muddy.
We built castles with just our hands, feet and a few cans rescued from the trash.
As we built, we sang;

“Se ntluntluthubege motsetsi o moteng,
Se ntluntluthubege motsetsi o moteng!”

Somewhere inside the house Mamane would have realised
That all her efforts of bathing us had been in vain;
We looked and sounded as gleeful as pigs in the mud.
Mamane, never one to shy away from war games, would shake her fist at us and proclaim “Ga lona ke ko nageng!”
A threat we knew very well preceded a good spanking.
So then, as the nostalgia tingles,
As I watch people duck and hide away from the showers,
As I miss the smell of rain hitting the earth, I realise that…

This isn’t my childhood…

So I retreat to make coffee and curl up on the couch.

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Pearl Mokgatlhane is an avid reader and an upcoming writer born in Botswana. She has no professional training but aspires to be a well-published writer. She published her short story “Fortitude” in the anthology The Different Shades of a Feminine Mind, and a poem titled “Armour” in Silent No More, a literary collection documenting Gender Based Violence, sexism and empowerment in Botswana. Her favourite misqouted qoute reads “never trust anyone with no books in their home, nor coffee.”

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