Bread and Margarine

Fondly remembered and dearly missed

I can remember the first day I met Maureen. I was seven years old at the time. It was on a weekend and I was busy playing and running around with the other neighbourhood kids. My mother called me and sent me to the shops to buy margarine and bread. Even to this day, bread and margarine reminds me of this day; reminds me of her. So, off I went. After I had gotten these items, I headed back home. As I walked by the road side, who do I see? Maureen and her family had just moved in the estate a day or two before and since moving in normally attracted a curios crowd of grown-ups and children who wanted to see the new family and see what they got, how I could have missed seeing her that day baffles me.

Maureen had on a simple flowery dress. She was wearing blue sandals and had her hair tied in a bun at the back of her neck. She had small brown eyes, succulent pink lips and was light skinned. Kinda reminds me of me if I were born a girl. As I stood there mesmerized by this beautiful creature before me, she looked up and directed her eyes to me. They were magnetic. It was love at first sight. Where I was walking was on the edge of the path and beside me was a sewer line. Somehow, as I kept my eyes on her, I missed a couple of steps and in I fell into the sewer line! I actually fell! For a girl! Yes, it was love at first sight. To this day, I still believe if you meet someone for the first time and you fall down, honey, you are in love!

Maureen was the first and only girl I fell in love with and who I wanted to spend the rest of my life with. It helped that she and her older sister were enrolled in the same school though a class behind. This meant that I could see her every day. Since she was in the flat next to us, it was easy to meet her and she soon started to mingle with the other kids from the neighbourhood and play games. Soon we developed a rapport and started to hang out more often. I was introduced to her family one day and since then I was a regular visitor in their house. Her family was the most charming and open I have ever met. The more we hanged out more the more we grew attached and liked each other. It became clear to all, friends and family, that there was something more than just mere friendship between us. We spent a lot of times together; we would accompany each other to buy stuff from the market and even go to school hand in hand. I would buy her ice creams and Britania biscuits that, during those days cost just a shilling. With ten or twenty shillings in my pocket, I could treat her to a lot and she loved me for it. We used to help each other with our school and homework. For example, she would write essays (they were called compositions then) for her teacher and I would proof read them and then she’d ask me to give her a mark and since the essays were usually marked out of a maximum of 40 marks, I would give her, and please laugh at his, 38 or 39 marks. Love, oh, love.

I can still remember our first kiss. She had called me over to their house to watch T.V. During those days, her family was the only one in the whole estate who owned a colour T.V. set. Since owning a T.V., even a black and white one was considered ‘posh’ they had then acquired a reputation as rich. Her father was a shrewd businessman and her mother managed a popular saloon and restaurant. I sat on the sofas and she came over and sat near me. She brought a blanket -it was raining that day- and we cuddled. She then brought two cups of tea and bread and of course, margarine. We kept each other warm and snuggled. She switched on the T.V. and we watched cartoons.

I had a funny felling. Well, I kind of knew where this was heading and I was scared. I guess she was too. She then looked at my eyes, and gave me a quick peck on the lips and she giggled. The exhilaration and anxiety trebled! I kissed her back. She did not move. We kept pecking each other and then we let our tongues meet and we went on like this -peck, tongue, peck, tongue- for long. Meanwhile our hands caressed and locked.

The day we decide to have sex –if I can call it that- was a memorable and scary experience. As usual, I was in her house and we were alone. She took my hand and led me t the washrooms and then started making out. Then she raised her dress up to her waist and then dropped her pink pants. Seeing this, I unzipped and dropped my shorts. The rest is as they say, for me to know and for you to figure out.

Were I not gay, she’d be the woman I would have been with and who I’d want to marry and have children with. Our love weathered separations since after primary school she went to boarding school and I day school. I would see three months in a year and this really was hard for both of us. Many times I got into fights when I saw other boys making any moves on her. I was protective of her. We pledged our love for each other by making a blood covenant. We took a Swiss army knife, made a slight incision on our fore fingers -enough to cause a drop of blood- and we then placed them on each other and swore that just as our blood have mixed, we will be together forever.

Today, I celebrate the fifth anniversary of her passing on. I will forever miss my girl. In her fond memory, each year, I celebrate our love and her life with margarine and bread.