These days, whenever I hear kids making noise about Visitation Days (VDs), I just laugh. I get amused because back in the day, this was one of the Days I never looked forward to. In fact, the announcement of the next VD would cause me sleepless nights. If mum confirmed that she would be visiting, I would almost want the world to swallow me up.
Here is why. I was notorious for heckling fellow students and even teachers in class or in the assembly. I was also known for just making noise (especially when teachers were not in class). No Class Prefect could do anything about it. Together with this clown Ras Dartte, we would literally bring down anyone.
So whenever it was a VD, it was a platform for Teachers to “have us”. There was this particular one, Madam Namususwa (I remember she was very beautiful and ‘young’). The day she met my mum on one VD, she literally poured her heart out to her. She yapped for close to an hour — basically narrating a litany of all my ‘sins’ including but not limited to PARKING (no details here, I am now married).
Mummy wasn’t amused at all. I could read the disappointment on her face until Madam Namususwa concluded with “despite all this, he is a very promising boy”. To my mum, that was the important thing. She smiled.
Pheeeeeeew!!! I relaxed.
To end all this VD crap, I needed a plan. My mum is an ‘economist’. Any idea that saves her money will always have her attention. One day, there was an imminent VD and I really didn’t want her to come (for obvious reasons). Fortunately, she was complaining of brokenness. So I asked her what her usual total budget (transport, food, pocket money, shopping etc) for VD was. “… between 70,000 to 100,000 in total” she replied. I told her to break down for me. I realized she spent about 15,000/= on transport and the food plus shopping would cost her like 35,000/=. Then she would normally leave me with 50,000/=.
I made a proposal that instead of all the hustle, she would just send me the 50,000/= and I would be fine if she didn’t come. “So you don’t one to see me? Don’t you miss me?” she asked rather furiously. I explained to her that I didn’t want her to stress over just one day. Besides “I am a boy. I can always sort myself”.
She fell for the trap. She even thanked me for being such an “understanding” son. For the two years I spent in MM College Wairaka, my mum visited only twice (in S.5).
Most importantly, I had my peace.