Our little alien used to have a tough time to express herself. She would speak baby language and only older sister could understand her baby speak in an alien language.

But when Rebbecca started school, Natasha would act up big time. She would talk and we would not understand a damn thing.  Then she would use her hands. This has not changed and she is now 16.

You are breastfeeding the kid and she bites you while saying strange things. She then goes on a hunger strike and sits on the window steal and watches for the yellow school bus so she could tell her sister that her parents were deaf.

Becky walks in and takes her sister in her arms to hear how her day went.  Then they are speaking alien language.

Translation comes later. “I kept telling mommy that I do not want her breast. I want the bottle. It is less work.  Daddy also did not listen. I kept telling him to change my diaper and he kept giving me milk. I am gonna potty train myself.  I want to be big like you. I slapped dad’s face because he was not listening”.

Becky then takes her sister to the home library and gives her crayons to colour.

She then tells her “hands can create magic if you write and colour”.

After that, everything white was coloured with the new use of hands. I have never washed so many walls, cabinets and fridge and stove. But the violence of the hands had ended. It is not like a slap from an 18mth old even hurts. It was the shock of her doing it.

First day at school in K age 5, we show up totally nervous because I dared not tell the school that my young sister was violent or else it would be an expensive private school.

Rebbecca met us in the lobby and introduced her sister to the HM (school principal) and the K teacher. Then says to the HM “this is my little sister. She is very smart. Let me show you”.

“Tashabooboo, what is 1 plus 1?”

Tashabooboo, what is 2 plus 2?


Tashabooboo, what is 4 plus 4?


Tashabooboo, this one is hard. What is 8 plus 8?


What is the square root of 16?


Then Miss Evans says “you are smart. We will skip you from K straight to Grade 3”.

Suddenly the tears!  Those are very big kids. Will daddy be in the class with me. By this time we are all laughing too hard. Then the punch!  Maybe I can be in the same class as Becky Boo.

She skipped school for the rest of the week. The kid was in trauma.
But the next week she agreed to go to school. “I think I can deal with it”.
Then I get a call at work to pick up my kid because she was not being put on the bus. K here ends at 1:45PM so I walked into my manager’s office and told him I had to skip out early. He looked at me “did Natasha beat up a kid in the school?”

I told him that I feared she might have done it.
Imagine my shock totally under pressure and the HM and K teacher tell me “we are skipping her from K and tomorrow she will be in grade 1.

I told them it was a mistake of immense proportion because the kid had to be in her age group to learn social skills.

Miss Rose then tells me K is overflowing and law says only 24 kids per class so we have to move some up. I asked what the criteria was.  She had to move 4 kids. So she based it on their writing.  She had written on the blackboard DOCUMENTARY. Asked the K class to read the word.  Tasha boo had piped in “it is a stupid question. Becky boo taught me that word a long time ago. It is documentary.

Ladies and gentlemen, education starts at home. It is my siblings who taught me to read and write before I went to P1! Parents have a lot of work to do in Uganda. If parents teach their first born right, that kid will teach her siblings.  Natasha loves Maths like there is no tomorrow but her sister taught her before formal school.

Namanya Boaz
Passionate about social justice, education and raising the next generation


Leave a Reply

Please log in using one of these methods to post your comment: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s