"Hey, pass the ball! I am open!" I shouted as Tobi, the boy in a yellow shirt and green shorts headed for the goal. With a glance at me, he passed the ball at me.
I trapped the ball and ran to the goal, my feet pounding on the red earth like a stampeding gazelle and as nimble as the African monkey. I dodged the boy in a red shirt and another boy in white shorts only.
The weekly football matches played among boys of all ages; the spice of Mambo village.
I aimed for the goal post, and with a quick, yet powerful kick, the ball soared in the air and above the goal-keeper and landed in the make-shift post, made with two opposite bamboo poles.
It was a goal.
I took a jog around the pitch and imitate a famous footballer's pose, acknowledging the cheers from the spectators watching the match.
"Next time, I will score the goal," Tobi said as he gave me a high five. Unfortunately, there was no opportunity to reply, because my sister appeared from the crowd, tears streaming down her face.
"Brother, Brother! Baba! Baba collapsed!" she sobbed. Without a second thought, I exited the match and ran in the direction of our mud thatched hut. I turned around and noticed Tobi following us home.
"I will not leave you," he said. "You have always been a good friend to me. Please, let me return the favour."
On arriving home, I cried when I did not see his usual game of draughts under the old guava tree. "Baba!" I called, and dashed to his room. On a typical day, going to Baba's room was almost forbidden; but today proved to be an unusual one. It was the day Baba died.
I knew then, that our lives would never be the same as it was before.
With lifeless eyes and a quivering body, I emerged from Baba's room bearing the unpleasant news. I could not look at my five-year-old sister's face. Her face held that of hope, and as young, as she was, I did not think it was right to tell her then.
I gave a strained smile. "Do not worry, Kiki, Baba is only sleeping." She heaved a sigh of relief and smiled.
"Oh, thank the heavens. I thought something bad had happened to Baba." Her relief made me feel guilty, and I forced my eyes to find my feet.
Almost immediately, a friend of hers called her for a game, and she stepped outside, leaving me and Tobi, who had been observing my reaction.
"Tell me the truth, Nkosi. What happened to your father?" he asked. I lifted my face to meet his imploring black eyes. His kind eyes made me tear up and slowly crumble to the floor.
"He is dead, Tobi," I croaked out. "He's dead...Baba is dead..." Ugly tears poured uncontrollably from my eyes. Tobi rushed to me and sat beside me, drawing me to his chest. "He is gone, Tobi...And we didn't even get to say goodbye..."
I know then that life would never be the same again.