With all due intention, I wanted to write ‘sick’ like your usual guy. Then that word ‘sic!’ crossed my mind. Yes girls write sic! When pissed off and sickness for me is that thing that pisses me off. So I wrote ‘sic!’ But girls am thinking will have their own language by the year 2070 that’s neither English nor Kiswahili nor Mother tongue. Anyway 97% of them know there mother tongue but can’t speak. Let’s just play justice and say they don’t know that they don’t know. See, a girl will call chips fries and some hormone filled boy will write on the Internet “those girls who call chips fries think they have made in it life” They will come in a bunch, slay and bold straight from the salon to argue that they are just being sophisticated about it. Jeez! Debate of sexes will have opened. For another boy will write “You can not argue with ladies Mr. Even God himself gave them eyebrows but they shave and draw their own_Mugabe” People will laugh so hard. Feminism will grow so wild. Hold on your laughter for the next section is about sickness and it’s not African to laugh at a sick comrade.
On that Monday morning coming from the weekend of a busy week, I yawned so hard. I was even afraid someone passing by would see the size of my liver. I started feeling unusually bad. Dragged myself to the kitchen and flung the fridge open. The weight of the fridge door was heavy on my left hand. Grabbed some lemon piece and dropped it in steaming water in a porcelain cup. I shifted myself to the rooftop balcony to catch up a pint of sun warmth. I was loosing it. The body rhythm could tell.
I struggled against giving in. The body struggled against my concealition efforts. I had to accept it. I was sick. It got me sic! In fact the entire of July I had been sick but I conditioned my body to act like as if I wasn’t sick. I was in a poor state. Missed alarms longer than I kept the count. Missed deadlines. Got drowsy in the mid day. So Much reader signs. My attention was focused on trying to squeeze productivity out of the blurriness that wore me. I moved on to book meetings. And plan events. And write proposals. And meet people. And talk hope until the body system crushed at my feet. Come to think but such is the life of an entrepreneur before systems stand solo and structures get full flung. You get comfortable and trouble catches. A little slumber, a little folding of the hands to…
But if there is something sickness imposes upon you then it must be reflection. Your body is weak. Movement is curtailed and your inertia cut by past half. So you will sleep in that couch reflecting. The type of deep reflections. Spiritual kind of but reflections. You will think that death is catching up especially because it will be July and you will have witnessed the nation lose prominent personalities in a trickle. It will scare you. You will reflect about your life. Your friends. Your enemies. The church. Tithing. Family. The insurance guys. Family. Purpose. Your own ways. August Eighth. After Election. Hell and whether it’s real. Cholera. Every thing. You will become Conscious like you are ready_ing to go. You will think about chaps who Owe you and the guys you owe money.
I though about my friends. The whole lot of them. Friends I had grown loving. Friends I had picked up along the way. Friends I got at entry level of school. Friends I made in primary. Friends we were with in high school. Friends I bumped into at college. Friends whose only connection is work. Friends we met on networking events over those lonely standing pretentious tall cocktail tables where we mill around two or three of us, fill our glass of passion juice, pick a cookie by the serviettes, munch calculatedly, maintain a fake eye contact and go “am Boldy, am in the financial services industry.” And them in case they are girls and it’s not one of their moody days rejoind “am Pinky, am a fashion blogger” Then you exchange cards and promise to hook up. I reflected about friends I has wronged and friends who had wronged me. I wondered in particular of there was any who was praying a bird prayer for me!
My wild reflection randomly drifted towards my enemies. And friends of my enemies. The rule book of friendship after all states that friends of your friends are your friends whereas friends of your enemies are your enemies. I thought about enemies I had grown up as enemies. Enemies that mushroomed from the blues. Enemies that silently hated on me without particularly telling me that we didn’t click. Enemies that became enemies along the way. I wondered what would be their damn response if I offered an olive branch now that I was on my death bed and I wanted to go a good guy?
Church was my mind like all the time. I wondered why recently I had been missing church a lot. I wondered whether this could be my deserved punishment for missing church often? Could the favor gods be freaking angry? It disturbed me why people miss church. It tickled me why church is just as important as perhaps having a moody girlfriend. I silently promised myself that if God allowed me thus one chance to live, church will always be top of my priorities. My reflection drifted towards those chaps who come for service and Chuck out way before end of summon. Come on guys, what is it this urgent you have waiting? Can’t you wait a little bit longer? You make the rest of us look like we are missing out on life itself!
Tithe. Tried a hundred and one times to play blind to it but it kept Cris crossing my Grey area. First, have I tithed usually? Should I do better? Is someone in our clan not doing it correctly? Could I be a sacrificial reminder? What if I promise to fish them out and spank their cheeks, would God hear that plea?
Family occupied my reflection path. First I had kept them out of my being sick for reasons man enough. What if eventually I had to sorry, die and they found out that I kept mum about my sickness and that alone has made me go early without a lineage to keep my name? Would they forgive me? Would they accept I died from being sick? Would they Blane the neighbour with a horny (long horns not..) black bull? Would they cry? Like in crying would they mention my name a thousand times. But then it dawned on me how family is but important. Someone wrote about that recently via social media. The fateful day we lost our able CS for Internal Security. If you remember, he was named a successor on a record less than an hour from when he died. You die. Family mourns. Life moves on. That memory on his burrial day will choke your memory ” It will be a sad day because we have repeatedly lost lives. It will be a sad day because wanting to keep off death you will shuffle through the TV channels trying to find a damn alternative but you will meet death because well, fur some reason unknown, television programmers have decided everyone should catch up with death.😅”
I thought about that day the insurance lady called. “Hi, my name is Virginia. Could you have a minute?” “Hi Virginia, don’t mind about my name but I have three and a half minutes. Your pleasure” “Okay ‘Mr Don’t mind my name’ I wanted we talk about an insurance product we have…” I regretted why I joked all the way through that conversation and she realised and hang on me and may be cried into that mouth piece, who knows? See could I have been a little bit more accommodative, maybe she could have introduced me to a health insurance that could have added a day to my dwindling lifeline. Or a life insurance that would made me due rich. Because let’s face it all insurance sales people say “in case of Un unseen certainty or perhaps sorry, you die, your next of kin (read family) will be paid x amount of millions. Then that policy document starts to sound like a death warranty. Then it scares your wits.
You will think about your ways. You will reflect deeply about your actions lately. You will try to recall of you have wronged your family. Then friends. Then enemies. You will question deeply whether you once in your lifetime raised the middle finger to an elder. You will think about the bridges you banned. And the doors you banged. And the meetings you cancelled. And the weddings you missed. Because well, weddings are sissy. It will get you thinking deeply and gulping at the vanity of it all.
Purpose will come into the center stage. You will wonder what exactly was your purpose on earth and whether you inched closer to finding and pursuing it. You will wonder what could be your answer when God asks you about what you did with your life here on earth. You will want to recount that day you tried working from the pub. Then you asked the steward to serve you two. Then you shut down your damn laptop. Then it dawned on you that isn’t possible! Just about the same way you saw a full ass grown man try to read a novel as he served himself a Guinness in a road side pub and you got thinking why on earth wouldn’t he choose one between the two hobbies and pursue it earnestly?
You are a patriotic law abiding citizen of this country. For what reason August Eighth will cross your mind. You will imagine elections without you because well the sickness will have snatched the whole of you and pending election mayhem, you will have been hurriedly buried in your Kanyamkago village in a low profile sombre ceremony. So you will picture your favorite evening time bulletin and the newscaster will go “this year in a landmark election that happened yesterday, the incumbent retained his seat beating his closet opponent by exactly one vote” he will repeat that part “one vote” and strain again “just one vote” because the whole Nation will not fathom how just one vote will determine an election victory. You will think about that one vote and nod at the chocking memory that that could be probably you. You will wonder whether the president’s kin love the fact that you died to give them a victory. And whether the opposition battalion curse that you would have lived to course them a presidential re_run. Even in death you will still wish that those country men remain peaceful and shun from calling each other names on Facebook! Everyone’s prayer right?
You will wonder what’s the post election environment like. Like are the Business community happy? But then your mind will drift to why Cholera had struck just about time voting was nearing. Could those opposition steered propaganda purporting that Cholera was a fallacy manufactured by the ruling class to scare away foreign election observers and create fertile ground for rigging hold any water?
You will become more Conscious and question stuff deeply just about the same time you will heal from the rumble of sickness and walk again. It will be Friday. See God is a Gentleman for he will let you live more and chat your own path. Vivo!