We were reverends

I always thought that people are overreacting when they scream and throw themselves on the ground after receiving bad news, turns out I was underestimating the impact of shock on a person. 

I figured that in the face of bad news, I would take a deep breath, accept the situation, and move on, but today as I’m hurdled in my room, a sobbing mess, I realise I was mistaken.

My loud sobs disturb the silence, and alerts my family of my distress. One by one they rush in, concern written on their faces.

“What's wrong?” my mother shouts.  I manage a small smile to reassure her that I am not dying.

"I…I've…,” the words refuse to come out.

 I give it another go, but this time only a sob escapes my lips. They stare at me, anxiety written on their faces, as I struggle to find words. I really want to say what’s wrong and kill the suspense but the words refuse to leave my mouth.   

My father coughs impatiently.

“University placements are out. I've been selected to study Education in KU,” I chock out.

My brother bursts out laughing while my father glowers at me.

“Sasa hiyo ndiyo inafanya ulie kama mtu anauliwa?” mother dearest scolds.

I scowl at them. Why can’t they try and look at thing from my point of view.

“I can’t be a teacher!” I sniffle. A cloud of panic engulfs me. I'm too awkward to be a teacher. 

 “Don’t worry,” says my brother. I'd probably be more comforted if he wasn't wearing a huge grin on his face. 

“And the way I have a quiet voice they won’t hear anything I say,” I burst into a fresh round of tears. 

Self-doubt consumes me. I'm not confident enough to be teacher.  Regret gnaws at me. I feel ashamed at the thought of all the times my classmates and I were difficult to student teachers. We were so arrogant. Who would have thought I'd become a student teacher?

“We’ll work something out,” reassures my mother. Unlike my brother, she looks genuinely concerned. I begin to believe her. Soon I'm fantasising about a world where I don't get to become a teacher. 

The tiny flicker of hope sparked by my mother is killed when my dad launches into a speech on how marketable education is. 

He declares me myopic and unreasonable then promptly storms out of the room.  Later, I see him furiously typing on his phone, presumably telling his friends about how his idiotic daughter does not want to take Education. Why can't he understand that this is not my passion? 

Soon my mother and brother also leave, and I'm left alone in my room to wallow in my sorrow. 

When I show my face a few hours later, I find the son of one of my mum’s friends slumped in my favourite chair.

“Madam Teacher has decided to join us,” my brother jokes. I grit my teeth and press my lips tightly while they laugh. Nobody understands me. 

It's here that I inform them about new plan. There's no way I'm becoming a teacher so I've decided to become a reverend. I'll go to theology school and then become ordained. I will then convince my church congregants to send me money if they want me to pray for miracles in their lives. The more money one sends, the faster their prayers are answered. It is decided. I'm going to be filthy rich in no time. 

“Don't you have to be married to even qualify?” interjects my mother. I glare at her. Didn’t any of those parenting shows she watches on TV teach her the importance of supporting the dreams of your children?

No problem, I'll just find myself a groom. How hard can it be? I half-jokingly shoot a suggestive look at our guest. I'm down if he is. Cue more laughter.

He clears his throat. 

“Relax, here's what you'll do. After admission apply for a course transfer. If you meet the qualifications of the course you want to transfer to they will accept you and you can transfer from Education,” he offers.

I'm so relived I could cry. All is not lost. I thank him profusely and take a seat, relived I won’t have to pray and steal for a living.