Dad takes up a lot of leg space behind the wheel
So I’m always behind mum’s seat,
I’m older, anywhere in the back
With the greatest room is without a doubt my birth right
The back seat doubled as sibling’s cage
Vying for room with stretched elbows
And overzealous hips
Often the front seats taught sermons of forthcoming discipline
No space for tantrums, we might be in the West
But this is a West African household
With West African rules for backchat from the back seat:
One hand on the wheel, a knock on the head with the other
Older, bolder and obnoxiously more knowledgeable
The back seat spoke political correctness and opinion as fact
Like the continuous disenfranchisement of the Palestinian people
And why Eskimos are Inuit and Red Indians, Indigenous Americans;
Backseat crusader.
Some journeys were full of sunny skies
Warm sighs whether on wintry nights or beneath summer lights
Rippling laughter from back to front and front to back
Branching at kebab shops or McDonald driveways,
Straining our necks to check the menu
Choosing the same thing anyway – chicken mayo,
Forensics can trace our trips by dips stained on the back seat
Throughout the year
The back seat takes some strain-
Sandwiching unwanted guests, sweaty cousins,
Fat aunties and noisy nephews
I’ve seen afternoons turn to evenings, static in the back seat,
Something all ministers’ kids will understand
“We’ll be back soon”, they repeat
The most consistent lie ever told
Great novels have been read in the back seat,
Even better dreams have been had dozing in the heat
Waking up to home sweet home or jarring potholes
Once, in the backseat of our green Hyundai
Lost in the poor lit streets of a northern village
The front seats are in stormy animation
The pitter patter of “I told you” and “shut-ups”
Thunders to a slap that sends the rain away
Bringing heavy clouds to mum’s eyes
Dad’s lightning hand shocks the back seat;
My sister shrinks in electrified silence
I shake and sob with fear and suspense
Like children counting between bolts and claps
The back seat never seemed so far away
I grew up in the backseat you know,
Watching hairs grow grey in the front seat
Learning that dads get scared too
And mums shed more tears than you do