I was seven years old when I understood what family is. And what it meant to be a family.
My name is Andre, but I'm called Dre by family and close friends. I was named after my grandfather who was a pastor at our local church when he was alive. Dad has said that when I was born that I had a striking resemblance with my grandpa that my grandma had to name me after her husband. According to her "my husband has come back to me" she would always say.
I lived with my Dad (Philip) and Mum (Jane) and elder brother (Evan) in our tiny little peaceful town. In the western part of our country. Dad owned a construction company and mum was a headteacher in the local community school where I schooled with my elder brother.
If love was to be defined I'm sure my parents were perfect examples for that. They were the perfect couple everyone admired in our little town and church.
According to dad he had met mum on a business trip to the developed cities in our country. Mum had just finished school and secured a job at an eatery where dad usually comes for meals. She happened to share most interest in certain things with dad, this made them close friends that at times, he waited for her till the end of her shift and walked her home to her appointment. They had developed this close bond that a day without seeing the other felt empty. Dad had gotten back to his town after he was done with his business in the city but yet couldn't stop thinking about her. It was then he knew he was in love with mum who also at that moment had fallen for dad. Fortunately, they met again on another business trip. Dad had stopped by on his way back to see mum. And the rest was history. Well me and my brother are products of their love story, that should tell you it was a beautiful love story.
Everything seemed to be fine at the moment. Dad has his own construction company now. And mum was the headteacher at my school. I wouldn't say we were rich but we had all we wanted.
Not until Dad came home one day with bad news. His company was bankrupt. There was no money to pay staff or fund construction. And his clients were not forthcoming anymore. He was going to close the company.
Things changed for us. We struggled to survive. We couldn't afford three square meals anymore. Dad was always at home.
But as a happy family, we never complained. We took it like survivors should.
One day I woke up in the middle of the night. I needed a glass of water. I got out of bed and put on my flip flops mum had gotten for me on her trip to the big market, and made for the kitchen.
Climbing down the stairs that led to the kitchen I heard noises. I stopped to listen. It was Dad and Mum. Someone was crying, I listened again and it was dad's voice.I gently tip toed down the stairs and hid between the door that led to the kitchen. I peeped through the space between the door and the frame. And saw mum holding onto dad who had his face buried in-between mum's breasts. While mum consoled him
"This house is the only thing I have left. I can't let them have it. Jane" dad said, in-between sobs. "I shouldn't have taken the loan, " he added.
"It's okay, everything will be fine"
"When? Jane, it's been three years."
" You've got to have faith darling. Just a little faith" mum consoled dad rubbing his head as she spoke.
"I've lost faith. I can't even go to church anymore. I'm ashamed of myself." Dad continued.
I tried to adjust from my hiding space and the door went open. Immediately they saw me, Dad wiped his tears and faked a smile. While mum walked up to me and asked.
"Hey baby, why are you up?. Can't sleep?"
"I need a glass of water," I answered In my tiny little voice. Still looking at them. They all acted as if all was fine. I guess they didn't want me to know.
Mum offered me water. And walked me back to bed. Carefully tucking me in the sheets. She kissed me goodnight and left my room. I dreamt about us losing the house to heavily armed men that night.
Two days later
Mum handed dad a check at the dinner table. She was beaming with smiles. Dad had asked what the check was forcand how she got it. She opened up that she sold her car and took out her savings from the local bank down the street. I quickly recalled she had come back home that day without her car. And when my brother asked, she replied that it was a long story. We wondered what she meant,but didn't pry further.
She asked dad to use the money to offset his bills with the bank and whatever remains he can start up a little business. For the second time I saw dad shed tears. This time tears of joy. He kissed mum on the head and held her so tight. Then they asked us to join for a family hug. It felt so comforting.
Now I'm writing this story from my Dad's mini supermarket. At the heart of the town. It isn't big yet but it is everything.
He named it. "JANE MART"
Also known as "Jane, Andre n'd Evan Mart" in full.