Story from My Imagination

Story from My Imagination

            My life began on a dreary dark night at a dilapidated wooden shack, which I later learned was to be my home for a couple of months. I had no mother figure to look up to; I only had my dad whom I think was a little bit crazy. I had many sisters and brothers too, but it was hard to keep count. My big sister was eight years old as she claimed and since we could not speak to father, we had to take her for her word. She was not the best company any one could keep and according to all of us, she fell short of her role as the eldest member of the family and the only feminine figure we could acquire the love of a mother from. Even as I recount my life to you, I have to be extra cautious not to provoke her anger, for she truly has a major temper. We shall refer to her as Melody, her favorite pet name, unlike the nasty ones we have coined for her. According to her best of knowledge, it had only taken four and a half months between my conception and birth, and note that I was not termed as a premature baby. Melody thinks that I am papa’s favorite child because it took a shorter time for me to be born unlike the rest of my brothers and sisters that lasted up to as long as twelve months!

My papa is far the most talented musician I have ever encountered. As he conceived me within his mind, even I, thought of me as a joke. As an idea, I was very abstract in nature and a deviation from Melody and the rest who were designed in a slow classical manner. Papa attributes my conception to a dream that was dotted with warm vibrant colors and an aria of a fast-paced atmosphere that proved to be choking. He claimed that this divine intervention was so unexplainable such that the only way he could express it in a comprehensible human language was through pen and paper. The excitement coursing within his veins during that lovely night deprived his eyelids of sleep. At once, he got to work. With his skilled and calloused hands, he gently spread a white clean sheet of paper on his working table and drew five horizontal lines on it. He then filled up the lines and spaces with a series of numerous shaded ovals, loops, stems and dots that would make any person’s head dizzy from following along the bends and straight points with their eyes.

Papa worked very hard in his first night and as the first warm orange rays pierced through the night to declare the break of dawn, twenty-five other lines had been introduced on the paper to make thirty lines. The paper had been decorated with the same odd shapes and figures that only papa seemed to understand. It was not until the late afternoon that papa lay in his bed with a seemingly exhausted but content look on his furrowed face; furrowed by years of much thinking. This tight schedule persisted over the next two weeks or so. Papa got obsessed with the funny and cryptic drawings that he had devoted himself to until we all thought he would go crazy. He no longer visited the bathroom for a regular shower and his body odor at that point was fit to make any one sick, his beard was quite a mess, and the scratching intensified over the period as dirt accumulated on him. How I felt pity on him at the moment, yet I knew that this was the sacrifice he had to put up for my sake.

Melody and the rest were forced to sleep in shifts during this period, as someone had to keep papa companionship during his working period to ensure that he did not go mad. It was quite a relief on the final day of drafting when papa shouted at the top of his voice el finito! That woke everyone. He was hopping from one foot to the other, while clutching the bundle of papers in his hands. He worked himself in the weirdest frenzy that we had ever seen while gyrating to the shrill drowning voice of Melody in the background. As he cranked up the volume level, her melodious voice filled every corner of the house and her presence was felt by all. It was actually good to see papa happy and to reward his efforts, he fixed himself a warm bath and had a proper scrub for at least thirty minutes. Later he shaved and put on a clean pair of clothes before giving the house an equally through scrubbing too. After this, papa headed for the market to buy some groceries, which he used to fix a decent meal of vegetables, egg stew and rice. He then slept straight for the next twelve hours. That night we all rested from the intense work schedule and even Melody was happy to have a rest from the much singing that she had done. The next day, I was forced up early to a rude awakening as papa shoved the bundle of his work in his heavy dark coat. He exited the house, as I could tell from within his pocket as I heard the door slam and all I could hear for the next thirty minutes or so were his soft footsteps on the snow-carpeted grounds. The biting cold wing raffled his coat blew his coat in various directions and I could not help but miss the shabby room which had now become home.

Suddenly, I heard papa shout a greeting to some unknown individual who responded with the same charisma that he had been greeted them with. Soon, we were wobbling down a wooden corridor as I could tell from the sound of the two men’s steps and the warmth that embraced us was a clear indication that we were inside a room. Papa conversed with his friend and after a while, he reached for the papers in his pocket. I was very glad to be finally let out in the open and was welcomed by two pairs of eyes, two blue ones belonging to papa and the other two coffee brown eyes belonging to his friends. The brown eyes rummaged over me with such eagerness, all the while growing wider with amazement and glee. At the end of it, the eyes were smiling up to me as the blue eyes joined in and an excited conversation was struck. I was very confused due to the happenings of that period, but I was sure glad that this stranger seemed to have understood the strange markings that papa had adorned on me. The two men then moved lightly towards a large instrument-which I later learned was known as a piano- reclining at the corner of the house.

The two men sat down and papa started hitting some black and white markings on the piano and oh! What a magnificent rhythm that emanated from the organ! Papa played all the while glancing at me and this made me uncomfortable. After a minute, papa halted and said something to his friend who bobbed his head up and down in agreement. I was then laid down and a rubber was used to erase part of my beautiful symbols as others were fixed in their stead. The soreness that was instilled during this period still rings in my head to this day. This pattern of playing, discontinuation, hushed conversation, erasing, and insertion went on for close to two months and the worst part was that papa abandoned me at this period in which I would spend the cold nights besides the piano. The hope of seeing papa the next day was the only thing that kept me strong. How I missed home and in as much as I hated to admit it, I missed Melody the most. I guess that experience taught me that east or west home was always the best.

Finally, papa announced my return home on a sunny breezy afternoon right after he had played his whole composition on the piano. He had mastered the beats and notes written over me during this period, such that he did not have to glance at me while playing. As we went home, papa was grinning widely and immensely proud of his progression that he waved me along in his homeward bound journey. As I watched papa I could not help but admire his courage, the pain, sleepless nights and effort that he had put towards my maturation from a musical piece on a crisp paper to a the soulful rhythm that was so dear to the ears. Papa was now walking beside a public beach and as the water splashed on my pages, it served well to conceal the tears that were coursing through my eyes. It was then that I promised to work my level best and make papa and the rest of my family proud for his lovely work. It turns out that papa’s friend worked at a local music store that promoted various artists by airing new music in their stores.

Papa put me in a tiny round gadget that he referred to as a compact disc and true to its word, it kept me very compact. As I made my way to the store, I held my head up high as Melody had mentioned that she and the rest of the family had never made it to the store and everybody was happy for my progress. With papa and the family right behind me, I ensured that I sung my heart out when I hit the store and true to my promise, I did make them proud. Soon I became the talk of the town and every one wanted a part of me; the media houses, radio stations, iPods and others that I could not remember my name. I was an instant hit in what they referred to as the music market and soon I was travelling to other nations in a system known as the web that made me travel with the speed of light in various continents. Soon papa was famous and he started earning from my efforts too and the best part is that they proud of me. Although Melody and the rest also shared within the limelight, they were very popular among the elderly who referred to them as classical music while I made it to the young generation and they gave me a funky name too, soul music.