The Road Trip: Part 2

Hello, here is the next part!

Namesake

That same day we went to another town, this one had a connection to me though; the name of the town and my surname were the same. I felt so excited at the prospect of being on the land of my namesake town. Even though there was no known evidence that my ancestors had resided there, it felt special, and I felt a kind of covert wholeness and glee. I wanted to stride through the town, head held high, shouting out my surname. Odd, yes, but I have a possessive nature, that extended to this town too, after all we shared a name. I suppose it would’ve been all the more better if there was even the slightest sign of my forefathers’ mark, but it was still worth the visit and the feeling of gratification.

Feeling the love

After visiting my namesake town, we went to a village nearby where we owned some land. It was scorching hot outside, and with the air con blasting a comfy chill in the car, I had no intention of stepping out. As the car came to a stop, confined on the small road, there were kids peering at us through the windows, in awe of the car and its mechanics. And then out came this lady, fairly old, to see the commotion and after seeing my dad first, and then my mum and me, went into a state of craze, but in a good way. I was utterly confused, about why we were there, who she was, why she kept smothering us, why we were waiting for someone and what the heck was going on.

My confusion was cleared up when my dad explained that she was the wife of the caretaker of our lands. And the interesting thing was, my great-grandma’s* father*, who was a very respected and wealthy man and a sort of mayor in this town back then, had servants and the man we were waiting for was the son of my great-great-grandad’s supervisor of lands. Their family had been serving ours for a long time, thus their awe and respect. The house that my great-grandmother grew up in was bought by their family, and in place of the house they put a cattle shelter. There were chickens, buffalos, hay, mud and dung strewn everywhere, as they explained the structure of the old house. And in attempt to get away from a very large buffalo that seemed to be a bit too much interested in me, I unceremoniously stepped in a heap of buffalo poop; embarrassing and disgusting. But besides that awkwardly gross moment, everything else went smoothly; they were all very joyful for our company and vice versa.

*my dad’s father’s mum, who’s still alive and hale and hearty

* my dad’s great-grandad, and my great-great-grandad

I didn’t reaslise how much I wrote and how much I had to say about this road trip so I’ll be finishing this off in part 3!

-AJ xo

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