My family was nuclear folks almost ten and more people living same premises. I grew up in the Balanballe district, which has beautiful scenery. My brothers and I played, learned and struggled together, performing all sorts of funny stuff. I cannot vividly remember all that we did but some of it was quite pretty. Our daily routine was well define. I usually woke up early in the morning and went to school to learn the Koran. For the Muslim community, one of the primary obligations is teaching their children the Koran. I have been attending Koranic School for 6 years.
Thursday and Friday are the favorite days of the week for the whole community. For children, there is no school and the Madarasa is open. It is the weekend. Boys play football and we set up or reorganize teams and play nonstop. The temperature most of the time is above 30 degree Celsius. This is our free time so we spend it on the field, despite the heat.
Girls are treated differently; they do not play or attend concerts or movies but help their mothers with domestic tasks. Boys play no role so can pursue their own fantasies.
I had a lot of friends in during my primary and higher education, some of them I befriended and others did not. It depends on their nature and moral fiber. This generation, most are fair weather friends who are driven and motivated by their own desires, including the money and extra belongings that delight them. The few exceptions are those who comprehend and grasp the actual gist of what an excellent comrade is. To find such person whose traits meet the criteria are hard enough. I had had intimate friend called Abdullah, also known as Digri. He was my age.
He was concerned, passionate, trustworthy, courteous and buoyant.
We were companions for a very long time, were schoolmates and classmates. We shared thoughts, possessions and whatever things he thought that I would be familiar with. Even now our friendship is intact.
I had another friend, not male friend but a female friend. We were in the same class. She was obedient to her parents and teachers. She remained my girlfriend until her father gave her to an old man, not less than sixty years old. The groom was a figure of some renown in our village. He had a car and some other small-scale businesses. It was not her choice but final decision was her father’s. Her mother was on her side. Unfortunately, he overruled all of us. He gave her two options: to accept whatever offer he made or live with his curse on her. That is why she ended up marrying a man her father’s age. My love for her and her education was reined by her father’s decision.