I didn’t get the privilege of being born in a hospital. My mother labored in my grandmother’s smoky kitchen. They were with my late father, who tried rushing her to Lwak hospital, but I grew weary of the womb’s care for, I was eager to taste the world’s sweetness and bitterness alike, I had to step into the light and meet it head-on. I came out right outside the fence, and my grandmother, Stella or if you like Min Ombewa, delivered me.
I was born in Asembo, my paternal home. A place I hardly know, a place I hardly visit, but a place I recognize much with. That’s why I call myself Jakolal, because Kolal is my village,Kolal is in Asembo.
When I was four, wait, I didn’t get the chance to be light-skinned when I was born. Kids are often light when birthed, but the colors of their skin often change after tasting the different rays of the sun. Their skin changes, picking the shades of their parents’ skin. Biology calls it genetics. The point is, the skin changes and sometimes becomes hard with pimples on the face and sometimes with a lot of hair standing straight on the surface. They change! I was dark at birth, and still, I am. My father, Isaiah Oguta Ngesa Nyakwar Okelo found a way of making me comfortable wearing the dark skin. He called me Rateng‘. Rateng’ means black. He narrated to me during free time how well black is priceless as the first breath of dawn after a long night. I love black ! Black is beautiful. I love my skin. I owe it to my dad.
One night after his karate sessions, he complained of pains. My mother says it was sharp pains that gripped his chest, something like asthma, yet they called it typhoid. I still wonder how chest pains and typhoid dance together in the same space. He was rushed to Aga Khan Hospital Kisumu, and on February 14, 2002, he slept, closed his eyes eternally. His brain stopped functioning. Everything in his world stopped. He rested. Mama was only 26. I am told she was only earning Ksh. 1000 as a Board of Manager teacher. She had kids and a family to take care of. She remained strong, productive and everything positive. We never lacked. We never knew poverty. We saw all good and got at least everything we wanted. I just didn’t get to practice karate anymore because my company was gone! After he was gone, he took the name Rateng‘ with him. Nobody else knew me as that. Nobody called me that except my uncle, Dr. Odongo. But with that alone, I knew how priceless my skin color was. I wore it with courage growing up. I miss the one who made me comfortable in it, but fate had just brought it that way. Sad!
Forget that though. My mother left footprints of success in the sands of time. She did all a mother could and more, and that’s why I hold her dear. That’s why my best sentence begins with the word “Mum.” My definition of love begins with the word “Mum.” My definition of beauty begins with the word “Mum.” My definition of strong begins with the word “Mum.” Her display of substance and appearance makes her just the best. She is the best!
This doesn’t concern you, but I am still dark. My mum is dark too. We wear this fine melanin, black chocolata skin with beauty and pride.
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