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Guess who is coming for dinner? A few years ago I heard my grandfather tell an agile story about a clandestine love about two youths who meet from home. Ken was smart young man pursuing his academic degree in a distant university in America. Before going to America he acceded that he will collaborate with his teachers and he will not be in confrontation with them. Ken promised to be equanimity throughout his life in America. His ambition was to return back home an erudite person.
Being an ethnic person he had an agenda of studying the American culture. It was during his college life that he begun to emulate the life style of students from effluent backgrounds. Even though his pursuit for a medical degree was endemic and so was the caustic urge for a woman to love. The story that my grandfather was relaying worked like an enigma, yet he said it with both humour and chronic suspense. Frustrated by the snail pace that the storyteller moved up.
The man was renowned for his wisdom to my disadvantage. It was until I developed an affable eye that his sense of humor that had fade should whose name soffie but the frail man chose to pronounce it with a little more sophistication as soffie. Realizing that I was more interested on the esoteric concise end. He began to sing a poetic rhyme that circuitously helped me become patient in whatever I do. Words can be harsh or so I accede with a fire. The abrupt halt and abstinence from entreating me to value and envisage the moral in our conversations was absorbable.
Early the following morning I assisted my grandfather to censor his house, and convinced him to accede in helping me grown to become an eminent orator in our town so that I become an affluent person with ethical behaviour. He agreed as long as I promised to be of exemplary behavior and equitable to all. The reaction that morning was eclectic and I was often remained that elites are made not born my adoration for which Ken represented in the college was supposed only by the passion for learning to love. I had celebrated my fifteenth birthday and all I sought was knowledge about women. Two doctors were graduating from college together to part and return to their distant towns to lead different lives. Ken had enslaved the sad past with embellishing the self-made person into a respected joyful professional unpredictable traces.
Engulfed with empathy listening to circumvent any distraction, I could clearly envision Soffie's family. Her father, an industrialist who controlled huge businesses and owned real estates was an advocate affectation. Sophie's mother, an ardent Christian sought the kingdom of heaven and taught Soffie to respect all regardless of their past or race. However, she had a brother who had effrontery behavior. He always spoke loud and his voice could emanate from his cube where he used to relax most of the time. This newly found love birds were yet to lay an agenda that to work well with both of them from the emaciated pockets of Ken he was to raise some money for nice cloths and fare to arrange and meet the parents of Soffie.
The ever-smiling lady doctor was waiting the time ken could announce his visit. As dragged on Ken called Soffie to set a date for his long awaited visit. The message excited Soffie, to the extent that she behaved differently. She couldnt wait and her preparations for the most important guest in her life, she shouted, mum guest who is coming for dinner they say curiosity killed the cat, it old mum big harm. Something efficacious was happening and she had never seen her daughter this excited before.
Effete! Effete! How is her father going to receive the information, if it turns out to be incompatible with his mannerism? she quizzed herself as she moved to assist their only daughter surprised them with a clandestine guest who she only addressed as my ken, Soffie could be hurl if we dont have her joy at heart.
Our dear little angel at the peak of her youth trying to hold as to what she calls hers. These were her mothers words as she was deep in distinct thought. A menacingly painful grin appeared in my grandfathers face again and I knew he was going to drop the story again. He has since passed away, but I miss his story telling approach.
A painfully slow exercise yet unequivocally interesting and fascinatingly mystical.
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