Coming of Age on Planet Earth

Chapter 5

"You can't wear trainers to church," Dad says, standing in our bedroom doorway. " Put on your sandals. And take off that ridiculous hat. Didn't your mother buy you children proper sun hats?"

I'm pissed off enough about having to wear this stupid shirt tucked into these stupid shorts, now I have to put on that stupid fucking hat just to go to stupid fucking church and pretend to believe in stupid fucking God.

I clench my fists as I kick off my Reeboks, and Mom and Ellie emerge from the room across the hall.

"Oh, don't you two look lovely!" Dad says, beaming at them.

"I got those dresses on sale at Laura Ashley for twenty-five dollars each," Mom says. "Can you believe that?"

"We match!" Ellie says, then does a little spin that makes the hem of her dress whirl, and makes me want to fucking puke.

When Waldo comes out of our ensuite looking as pissed off as I feel, Dad says, "Sandals and sun hat, Waldo. And tuck your shirt in."

"We're not at church yet," Waldo says. "I'll tuck it in before we get there."

"Change into your sandals and put on a proper sun hat like your sister," Dad says. "And hurry up or we'll be late."

"I'll wear the sandals but I'm not wearing that hat," Waldo says.

"None of your nonsense, Waldo," Dad says. "Hurry up."

As I take off my cap and pull on the stupid yellow sun hat, Waldo looks Mom straight in the eyes and says,"Mom, please don't make me wear that hat."

"Hurry up," Dad says.

"Oh, fine," Mom says, "you can wear your silly cap if you like. But hurry up and get your sandals on."

Dad sighs loudly as he heads down the hall, followed by Mom and Ellie, and I put my cap back on before I follow them.

The church isn't far from the Kamara House, but the sun is high and by the time we get there I'm dripping sweat and my sandal straps are killing my ankles.

"Hats off, and tuck your shirts in, boys," Dad says as we approach the front steps where an old white man dressed in a long white robe is greeting people as they enter—women and girls in colourful skirts and dresses, men and boys in mostly black pants with white shirts, all eagerly staring and smiling at us.

The moment I pull off my cap, I feel the curls unravelling. My styling gel is no match for this goddamn heat.

"Buongiorno," Mom says, shaking the old man's hand. "I'm Elizabeth. Elizabeth Weathers."

"Father Giacomo," the man replies with twinkling eyes and a broad smile. "A pleasure to meet you."

After shaking Dad's hand, he looks down at Waldo, Ellie and me, and I turn my head slightly to the side to try to hide some of the curls.

"Are you children excited to be in Africa?" he asks.

"No," Waldo says. "I'll be excited to leave."

Father Giacomo laughs and Dad and Mom fake-chuckle as Dad yanks Waldo's cap off his head and pushes him through the door.

The church is full of people. Some point and laugh. Others just stare and smile. I keep my arms crossed and head down while Dad leads us into a vacant spot in a central pew, where he and Mom start vigorously introducing themselves and shaking hands with parishioners.

"Sit up straight, William," Dad says, nudging me with his elbow, and I feel like telling him to fuck off.

Father Giacomo enters and people clap as he approaches the altar and raises his arms and starts talking in a heavy Italian accent. "I would like everyone to welcome the Weathers family to our church," he says. "They have come all the way from Canada to offer help at our local hospital and schools, and we are blessed to have them."