Teenager's Tale

TEENAGER’S TALE

  EPISODE ONE: HUMBLE BEGINNINGS

  TYLER MAJAGA

  Copyright Tyler Majaga 2014

  CHAPTER ONE

  INTRODUCTION TO A STAR

  Thirteen years. Just an age, isn’t it? In life, every average human being, poor or rich, white or black, has to go through it. Well, for some it isn’t just that. To some it’s the beginning of great things; the beginning of another era in life; an era with all sorts of problems and complications. It is almost by mistake that the rites of passage do not include it. It’s even a surprise that no songs or poems have been written about it. Well, okay, maybe there are songs but poems? Let me not call a debate and go on.

  First and foremost, puberty kicks in for most and we all know the complications it brings, more especially for our sisters. Then, we get to deal with those feelings that take over us when we see that girl or boy we so dearly like. Talk about dealing with those over-protective, ever-commanding parents who govern every move we make as they so wish. Then there is the weird friends, feuds and group rivalries at school, and worst of all, the jealous dude who bullies you because you managed to land yourself a role in the life of that cute girl at school.

  School on its own is probably the worst the best part of this era. The memories we cherish are made while some are, well, just memories. The characters we meet, the songs we shared, the crushes we had and all the works. That is school and fairly, worse and good as it may be, it is part of what makes being there what it is. In my story, most of it will be told from this place that a lot of movie makers have come to love so profoundly in a lot of their works.

  We all know how stress levels rise because of that huge pile of homework the teachers give you, including that one from the Math teacher you think looks hot, who's constantly standing on stilettos. Most of you boys will relate that at some point in your school careers, you did have that one teacher you just admired beyond the word. You ended up cracking your head to its level best just to impress her and get that pat on the shoulder, which you would wish could be more of a kiss on your lips. Fact remained, she had a man and you did not stand a chance, at least not in that life time.

  Boys tend to buy expensive designer clothes just to impress their little Miss Sunshine, or those girls who just blush every time they pass by. As for our teen sisters, mirrors end up feeling the pinch from the hours-long stares as the fair and ugly spend hours ‘fixing’ themselves before them.

  You must have now guessed I’m talking about teenage-hood. I can spend the whole day listing the experiences and problems that come in these crucial years but hey, this story isn’t about ‘Problems'. It is rather about me, and well, others involved in it.

  Some teenage years were lived off normally with fewer problems, while some were filled with adventurous events of too much fun, love, hate, tests of loyalty and backstabbing. Mine was, well, adventurous in every aspect. I may have not lived it off like those kids who burnt down their friend’s house when he threw a party in that Hollywood production or the Kang kids who tried the measures of Science but I did live it. Before you read on, be warned: some contents of the story may be harmful and offensive to some readers. Parental guidance is advised.

  It all began when I was a kid in the early turn of the twenty-first century. This is a teenager’s tale.

  CHILDHOOD BACKGROUND

  Growing up in a city had its complications and fun. I lived in Motsamai Street, no less than three kilometers from the city center. The children in the neighborhood were from different backgrounds; economic, religious, and origins. Some, like me, went to private schools while some went to public schools. Some were spoilt rich kids while the rest of us were from middle-class families. But I had a best friend from the rich class. On weekends we usually converged and played different games in the street. Boys played football and cops and robbers while girls played games like the popular ma-rounders, which is a ball game similar to baseball except that there was no bat or a hard ball that gets you hospitalized should it land on your head. The ball was just made from old socks and the opponents have to hit the other team’s players with that ball before they complete a number of rounds on a square drawn with a chalk on the tarred road that passed between the houses. This ball game was so popular amongst the girls, and sometimes the boys also joined in. For those days, it seemed like fun ruled over complications.

  My family house was one of the thousands built by the housing giant, Botswana Housing Corporation for lease. Over the years, my parents had managed to buy ours. They had added another bedroom to the existing three bedrooms. The kitchen, bathroom and sitting room were extended to be a bit more spacious. That is the little I can say about our house, which we still reside in today.

  My best friend and I used to hear just how noteworthy being a teenager was from the older folk. Even though we were clueless about the era, we enjoyed hearing the stories about how experimental and cool it is. To us it meant less control from our parents, being liked by girls who will blush when we went past them, even in extreme cases where you look like Steven Tyler in his fifties. We understood teenage-hood to mean going to parties and chilling with your homies in the streets. All these seemed true for my best friend’s brother and his other teenage friends would go to parties in the neighborhood, while we sat at home watching movies. Our parents used to tell us this every time we wanted to go to these “cool” parties, “Only when you are a bit older, maybe as teenagers”. So we waited. Most afternoons after school, we would see boys kissing their girlfriends in a park near our homes and think, one day is one day. We had heard how awesomely nice it was to kiss a girl and since it was done by teenagers, we couldn't wait. Thirteen was the dream birthday for me, my best friend and every other kid who carried the same ambition.

  At times when we boys took a break from playing and lounged under the shade of the tree in one of the neighborhood yards, our seniors would give us ‘guidance lessons' on how to be girl magnets. We all listened attentively as they spoke, clueless of whether the information we were receiving was true or false. Either way, we listened.

  ‘If you want to impress a girl, you should always dress smart and be perfect in everything you do. The way you walk, talk and stuff like that,’ advised one of the older guys.

  ‘Since you are all babies, there is no need to introduce yourself; just tell the girl you like her and that’s just about it.’

  ‘One other thing, don’t tell a girl how you feel about her when you can clearly see she’s not into you because it can turn out bad…’ added another, ‘…and you should also have something unique that you can do that can impress the girl you like. Then she’ll like you.’

  ‘Something like what?’ I once asked in one of the sessions, and the other kids nodded in agreement.

  ‘Well, maybe skills in football or dancing. Or maybe if you can’t play or dance, buy her a little gift. Just anything to impress your dream girl,’ the first senior boy clarified.

  ‘Is that why you have many girls? Is it because you can play football well?’ I asked my best friend’s brother, Mike, with a laugh and everyone else joined in. He also laughed and nodded.

  There we were being corrupted by information that would lead to different decisions, good and bad, in the future. All the things that those guys fed us stuck in our small minds and most of the kids tried out the skills on unsuspecting girls. Some tips worked and some, not so much. But hey, who cared?

  Mike Brown literally had the whole of Francistown in the palms of his hands. He was tall, well-built and dark. I guess it was his physique that granted him success in the girls' industry. We usually saw him kissing a different girl every other week and wondered just how he did it. Having taken their grandfather’s surname at birth, Mike was my
best friend’s half-brother – well, more like adopted brother and he had moved in with the family some two years earlier. His biological father, unfit to take care of him after his mother had passed on, had pleaded with family members to take him in and my best friend’s parents did just that. His part of this story will later show a lot of lessons to a lot of you and actually play a very important role in making a lot of people realize the power of change. Don’t read too much in to it though for now. The story goes on.