Hartley Neita, ContributorWHEN I was about ten years old, my father gave me a small football. He also warned me to only kick and play with it when I was wearing shoes. Now at that time, I had one pair of shoes. I wore it to Sunday School and church and if I was going visiting with my parents. I also wore them when my father took me to the movies to see the Walt Disney cartoon and Shirley Temple movies. It was only when my father had time to kick ball with me that I could wear my shoes, and that was not very often.
As far as I was concerned, a football was made to be kicked, so one day when he was not at home, I sneaked to the back of the yard, barefooted, and gave the ball a mighty kick. The trouble was that I missed the ball and kicked a stone instead. Mercy, oh! Not only did I crack the joint of my toe, but my toe nail was smashed and the skin at the head of the toe was peeled off.
SPLATTERING BLOOD
I screamed, hopping on one foot. Tears flowed down my cheeks. My mother ran outside. She saw the blood splattering the ground, rushed inside for a basin and towel and proceeded to sop it. The hurt and pain gradually eased. Then she daubed it with iodine and I screamed again. She bandaged it with strips of cloth.
I tried to hide from my father later, but my chatty-chatty brother and sister told him. Again I cried, this time from his leather belt. He also told me not to ride my mother's bicycle if I was not wearing shoes. But I knew more about riding bicycles than he did. My feet slid from the pedal. Once again I walked with a bandaged toe for weeks.
Another of his warnings was that I should not walk on the limbs of plum trees. They were brittle, he said. I did not know then what brittle meant, and one day, the prettiest and sweetest plum I had ever seen ripened at the end of a limb on our tree. Naturally, I had to have it. I could not find a stick long enough to use to pick it, so I climbed the tree and tip-toed my way towards this pretty, juicy, smooth-skinned, yellow plum. The limb gave no warning. I heard the crack and limb, leaves and I crashed with a thud on the ground. I was on my back. Motionless.
THINKING
The drop pumped out all the air from my lungs. I could not speak or shout for help. I do not remember how long I lay there helpless. I remember thinking of all the things my father had told me not to do, and praying that I would walk again and live again, and promising the Lord I would obey his command to honour and obey my father and mother for ever and ever. Amen..
After a while I began to breathe normally. I rolled over on my belly, placed my hands on the ground and slowly pushed myself to a stand. I began to stumble my way home. And guess what? I stepped on my pretty, sweet, juicy, smooth-skinned, yellow plum. My mother gave me a cup of sugar and water to drink. And lucky me, my chatty-chatties were not at home. I never kicked a football or rode a lady's bicycle barefooted again. As to plums, I never climbed another tree.
