A little under 25yrs ago, colored photos were a phenomenon in this city. You had to have a photo taken of you and your oikos.
It had to be in a colorful studio – with screens that rolled like hanging carpets revealing beautiful oriental scenic views – in those days, you had to watch Rambo to see something similar on TV – hmmm, u had to have a TV! whether it was colored was another question…
Back to the photo, oh what a moment. you would wake up excited, a beautiful meal was a hint. a forced shower against your favorite kyayi ball was a strong hint. Alas – those shoes. those dear old shoes. now you needn’t ask.
The ride was always long. They just didn’t feel your excitement. The receptionist was slow, bordering on lazy – they didn’t know you waited all morning to get here! Finally the moment came – you saw him, first empty handed, and after the majestic carpet-cum-curtains chose between orient and wild bush, then you saw him again – tools in hand.
I used to wonder – isn’t he the most important person in the world? he has the machine. not just any machine – the machine. It looks at you, lightens the room and in a second, you see yourself again – on paper. a human copier? a physical scanner?
How can it be so accurate? so correct? how can i look so like me? and mummy? she was pretty – still is, minus old age effects – and David, hmmm, his daughter has his head!!!
What more could creation offer?
And now the even longer journey back home – but see, its all worth it. the machine human copier has given me enough memories to not notice that wandegeya then had a round about!
There was only one thing to match a perfect day out, on our way home – Bimbo Ice-cream!
Those were the days…