someone stopping to breath and succumbing to oblivion is unnerving.
Lots of questions without answers cloud the mind. What does being dead
feels like? Does the dead person feel lonely or sad, does he hear the
cries of his beloved ones yet he can do nothing about it? We all want
to go to heaven but doing it through dying is spine chilling, most of
us would prefer doing it the Elijah way, being carried to heaven on
chariots of fire.
After a person has suffered a long time from a disease that seem to
chow at the body, leaving it weak to fight, we often say eeh akapume
(he should go and rest). How do we know that where he is going he will
rest if his name isn't written in the book of life? Come what may, we
need to prepare ourselves so that when death comes knocking on our
souls be it through sickness or sudden death, we should welcome it
with a smile on our face. To some death is an escape from life's
suffering and pain, a simple step to the next eternal life, to others
it's a sentence to eternal torment and burning.
I know I had not been so close to my family especially my father. He
was a difficult man to please and mostly it was like I used to enjoy
causing him heartaches so that I knew how he would react. You may call
it a temperamental test. What moved our relationship for the worse was
his sending me away from home to live with strangers where I ended up
getting raped. When that man tore at my inner fresh forcibly, I hated
my father with intensity and thought he had been paid for it because
one way or the other he contributed to it. It was hard to believe that
I had sprung from his loins. Seeing him lying peacefully in the
coffin, made me think that if I could whisper his name once more, he
could open his eyes yet it was never to be.
He was gone for good. If I had come earlier, I could have seen him
again for just one more time. It broke my heart to think that there
would be no apologizing moments or never to hear his loud voice
scolding me not to mention of not seeing him going to the lake
carrying his fishing gear. I didn't have a remarkable and memorable
childhood because I was busy bringing him mischief and he was trying
to bring sense into my upbringing. Unlike my mum who most of the times
let me have my way, my father was a disciple of the devil himself. To
him every mistake called for a beating to cast out demons of
stubbornness as he used to put it.
My mum cried loudly when she saw me. In my culture we cry in tales.
Mostly we cry as if we are talking to the deceased or we say the last
act we last did together. Among the Tonga crying is closely associated
with singing but the tone is what brings out the sorrow. I was lost of
words to walk on his funeral as if I was a stranger. I saw both my
father and mother's relatives and they all looked surprised to see me
at last and the children I came with. My mum lamented how in the time
of his illness, he had longed to see me again and apologies for not
loving me enough like he did with his other children but I was not
there to hear his last words. Amanda clutched at my wrapper fiercely
at such a commotion while Laurent started crying at the noise and
discomfort. He loved serenity and this was a disruption on his
personality. Later when things had quieted down a bit, my mum asked to
see me in the other room. She picked up Amanda who started crying in
protest. The room was the one I used to share with my sister when I
was a kid.
"Wangu don't tell me these kids are yours"
"Sure Ma they are mine "I replied looking down.
"How come you didn't tell me anything? Oh child you can kill a person.
You went through all this without breathing a word to your mama?"
tears started welling in my eyes, the guilt was too much. I told her
about Ben causing me hell and promised to tell her later about Peter.
"Am sorry Ma everything happened too fast and I suffered so much; I
didn't know what to do. I didn't want burdening you with the
consequences of my sins." She looked up at me with her trusting eyes
which I had all along refused to be a part of.
"You could have come home to me dear. You know I could have got your back"
"I thought of coming home but there was Dad to deal with. I was
terrified he could disown me for bringing him shame. I was buying time
to prepare myself to face him, but I didn't know I would find him
gone." My father couldn't take lightly to some things even when it
wasn't complicated. He treated everything with utmost seriousness.
"What will I ever do without him Wangu. God knows this man was the
centerfold of my life. I am lost… so lost I wish I can die as well. He
suffered so much, I could see him slipping away every single day it's
only that I failed to convince myself that he was going." Knowing my
mother, he had been the reason he had held on for so long.
"Don't worry, God will see you through. I am sorry for not being there
for you, for him and for everyone else" We hugged each other and let
the tears flow freely.
The following day we buried my father at the family grave yard. Seeing
him buried six feet underground made me realize how short life is. If
you have close and beloved people in your life, it's never too late to
show them how much they mean to you and tell them so. It hurts that in
some of our African culture it's almost a taboo to tell your father
that you love him.
Don't you see and envy how people of other cultures through to each
other the three lettered word? If you have issues with your family
resolve those now before you will never be able to do it again. Saying
sorry when someone is gone, will never change anything rather it will
leave you guilt filled and burdened. I prayed for the peaceful resting
of his soul, I hoped he had made peace with God before his final
departure. He was gone but the message preached at the funeral was a
foot print on my soul. Jesus is the way, the truth and the life; no
one comes to The Father except through Him (John 14:6).
The following morning, the whole place was buzzing with activities.
Endless family meetings and so many dishes to wash. My young sister
Beatrice escorted me to the lake to wash nappies and clothes.
It was good to see the glistering lake again. No wonder it's called
the lake of stars. I could see the rays of the sun glistening upon the
lake in breath taking shimmers. I breathed in the fresh air, marveled
at the random and peaceful manner in which the waves hit the shore.
The sun was rising and the orange big ball seemed not to be in a hurry
to heat up the shore. The look on my children's faces confirmed that
they loved it as I did. I looked at a group of naked children running
and playing and made me remember my childhood. This place was my safe
haven where I would run free and be myself without a care in the
world, that's the beauty of being a child.
I realized that along the lake, the network would pick up. I called
Peter and he was so happy to hear from me and so devastated about my
father's death. I was at war with Amanda to give her the phone but I
told her later because we had pressing issues to discuss.
He couldn't wait to have us back; home wasn't the same without us. It
made me wish I could fly and be in his arms that very moment; I missed
my man so much it hurt. Before hanging up he reminded me not to forget
the later to his mother, which I was reluctant to deliver and wished I
could give someone to deliver. It was in Laurent's nappy bag so after
washing, I asked my sister to escort me to Peter's place to see his
mum.
"Sis are you sure you are ready for this?" Beatrice asked.
"What do you mean? It's just a letter and I don't know what is inside
that can make me fear her like boko halam." She laughed. I could
remember so little about the voluptuous woman so I didn't know what my
sister meant. We went there in silence. I had to know what she thought
of me because it was just a matter of time before I would become her
daughter in-law.
The house was big and looked modern unlike most of the other houses.
We found Peter's sister Lusungu on the verandah chatting with her two
friends, am sure it was about boys taking from the way they got
startled upon our intrusion. She went inside and came out with a mat
which she put under a tree for us to sit down. Later her mother came.
She really looked surprised to see me and remarked how I had grown and
she further wondered when Beatrice told her that the children were
mine as well.
I gave her the letter and died a thousand deaths at the countless
times her face contorted. After reading she tore the letter in pieces
to my horror while she was shouting "this cannot happen as long as I
am alive. I would rather die than live to see that disgraceful thing
taking place." She looked like a dragon about to spit fire. I was
worried and afraid to think that I had been the angel of doom, to
bring her the news that pushed her at the end of her tethers.
"I want you to stay away from my son once and for all." I don't know
where that was coming from but at least it could have been best if
Peter had told me in advance.
"Have I done something wrong Mama?" I had the right to know. It wasn't
like I was the only one sticking to him like a leech.
"You cannot expect my boy to feed your army which you bled with
God-knows-who. Let him find a girl, a virgin to spend his life with
not a lagging and wasted woman like you. What do you two know about
love so that it should make him so blind and stupid?" I was lost of
words, my heart started a race. Beatrice kept nudging me at the elbow,
it was time to go but I couldn't go without a fight.
"I will not tell my people to meet yours as he has requested to
discuss lobola. I can't watch his money going down the drain. Where
were you when your fellow girls were saving their dignity?"
This was getting heated up and I couldn't further stay there. " thank
you very much Ama, your message is loud and clear but don't you think
Peter is man enough to know what he wants before you getting on his
way? Good day" I didn't want to hear her insults, I could have said
things I could regret. I left.
"My son will never marry you. Besides I have already eyed a potential
girl to suit his caliber. I don't want to be a grandma to some
shenanigans." That hurt but I clenched my jaws and went back home. We
got behind the house and started putting the clothes on drying lines.
Beatrice gave me a look that said she had so much to talk about but I
made myself look like I didn't want to hear whatever she wanted to
say. It wasn't good adding salt to a wound that had healed, only to
scathe it again and ooze fresh blood. We didn't grow up together so
she didn't know me and I didn't know her as much. We were strangers
bound by same blood. A girl few years older than Amanda came to tell
me that my mother was calling me inside the house. I told Beatrice to
finish putting the clothes on the drying line and watch Amanda while I
went there. As I was approaching, I could hear raised voices.
"She can't disgrace my brother like that…" that must have been my
father's younger brother.
"She is my child I will decide what to do…" it was my mum. My heart
was beating so fast and my stomach knotted.
"Am sure you sent her to sleep with every Jim and jack." That was my
usual loud mouthed aunt, my father's elder sister.
The arguments kept on and I was debating on whether to go inside or
not. If yes, it would be like walking on a land mine. Didn't I have
enough shouting for a single day? *sigh*
To be continued…
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