Yesterday I remembered a particular song we used to butcher when we sang it as kids.
Waaaaanderfool Chiso
Saviour
Wanderfool miracool Chiso
Let us walk wit i
It turns out the words we were butchering were actually:
Wonderful Jesus
Saviour
Wonderful miracle Jesus
Let us walk with Him
At the time, none of us worried about exact pronunciation. We simply sang from the heart and tried to impress anyone who was listening.
This was many years ago when I belonged to the Young Presbyterians (YP), a group for mostly elementary-aged children at our Presbyterian church in Cameroon. My younger brother served as the conductor. Instead of the usual precise hand signals, he rolled his hands in a motion that looked like someone running and then opened his palms wide as if to signal “shine.” He repeated that over and over while we enthusiastically mangled the lyrics. It was chaotic and wonderful.
Now, years later, I find myself nostalgic for those YP days and for many other simple moments from the past.
I miss the way a small birthday invitation could swell into a crowded house because word spread quickly and people often invited themselves. At my first daughter’s second birthday, I discovered dozens of well-dressed children I had never met—kids who had simply heard about the party and showed up ready to celebrate.
I miss shopping at the market and stepping into muddy paths after a rain, not because I wanted to play in mud but because that constant contact with the earth felt natural and ordinary. It wasn’t the mess I missed so much as the everyday connection to nature.
I miss waking up on Easter morning to “look for the risen Jesus,” and singing playful, imperfect lines like “the women went to the tomb but they couldn’t find Chiso.”
I miss genuine smiles, neighbors who brought food repeatedly without being asked, and cheerful “good mornings” exchanged from one doorstep to the next.
I miss seeing women walking about with babies securely fastened to their backs, carrying on with daily life.
Mostly, I miss my home and the small, familiar pleasures that made that place feel like home.
What do you miss about the past?