“I would wish u a happy married life, but I know u already have it. Just hurry up and make me an Uncle. Love u loads, miss u much.”
That was how I ended a post last year ‘Happily ever after‘(Read). Two days ago I got my wish: my cousin and her husband between them made me an uncle – again!
I had called to let her know my article which was a day overdue was finally ready. When I could not reach her phone I called her husband. “We dey hospital o,” he told me when we were done with salutation.
“Chairman, o dikwa na nma?” I asked him, to be sure all was well.
It was then he told me about his barely 2-hour old son. I spoke with my cousin and congratulated her. After I hung up, I dwelt for a moment on what this meant. My father and her father before us had been close, so too both of us. I could not help wondering if both our kids would get along as well seeing as they are less than a year apart and both boys.
At least they would experience the same things, learn the same language, play with the same things and watch the same TV.
I woke up but did not turn or make any move, only cracked my eyelids open a bit. Even in my half awake state I knew what day it was, and as the day crossed my mind, the bottom fell out and my stomach plummeted.
Considering that Saturday and Sunday were the only days TV stations started transmission early, one would expect me to love Saturday. But it was for this same reason that I hated Saturdays. Mama would make us work from Friday evening till Saturday night. One could not pause chores to watch any of the cartoons showing on TV. By the time we were done, it would be time for midday news at 12pm. Telematch was the only program I enjoyed on Saturday. NTA sports was just always a downer.
Monday to Friday usually followed the same pattern, the early part of the day rolled one into the other: wake up early, do chores, go to school, return from school, siesta (though I preferred to read while others slept). After siesta I would sit in front of the TV waiting for the first station to resume transmission. First would come the National anthem followed by the pledge. After these would then come Sesame Street. It is to this hour long program that I owe my understanding of the English language. This was usually followed by cartoons. Then, cartoons were the bees knees of entertainment for any child.
Sundays were my preferred days because it seemed to be a mellow chilled out day. It started with Mass at Holy Family Catholic church, then the race to buy fan-ice with the 10kobo I ‘forgot’ to put in the offering basket – there were so many people putting in money, God would not mind too much that the hand I dipped into the basket went in empty and came out empty too.
It was with my tongue frozen and coloured orange that I raced home, always arriving just on time to catch the beginning of a cartoon, usually Harlem Globetrotters. That had to finish before a look in the kitchen to confirm Sunday rice and stew was ready.
Back then, it was about the cartoons more than everything and anything. There was Voltron, Dog Wonder and Blue Falcon, Wonder Wheels, Hillbilly Bears, Superted and Spotty, Clue Club, Captain Caveman, Casper and the Angels, Scooby Doo and Scrappy…the list is longer than my arm.
So here is what we are going to do this Friday: Below are a few pictures from some cartoons from that time, use the comment box to identify as many as you can and list others not covered here. Feel free to include some lines from the cartoons as well, if you remember any. 😀
I may not know a lot of things, but I do know these cartoons trump the bland, watery fare my son and nephew have to watch today, these programs trump Barney and Teletubbies.
TGIF!!! Let the cartoons roll in.
PS: When I was much younger, Mama would not let us leave the home to attend anything she did not approve of, and even then, we had to go as a group. One of the perks of growing up is not needing Mama to vet what I attend or who I visit, sadly I’ve grown up into a couch potato. But not so this Sunday, 26th of February. I will be attending One Mic Naija at Browns Cafe, GRA Ikeja. I hear tickets are N1,000.
No, I do not know what colour shirt I will be wearing then, still I hope I see you there. 😉