THE ICON

As a normal child, I grew up going through the parenting system of an African home. To be specific, a Kenyan common class lifestyle. I remember vividly my first day day at school, being taken by my mom alongside my twin brother, literally our lastborn. I can't recall my mood at the moment though but I liked it. I was only 5 when I begun my learning process, that would take me 3 years to qualify for graduation to class one in the primary school level. I had gone through a lot before being sent to school and were it not for my mother's efforts it could be a different story and I would never be this person right now. My dad had neglected his duty on us and gave a damn to nothing.

I had spent some of my time looking after my dad's flock of sheep from which I got nothing not even my school levies. Whenever we forgot our duty as shepherds and let the sheep invade someone's crops while we are lost in play, we were severely punished. Now at school, I had to do my best and indeed I was unbeatable. I constantly emerged the top learner in the school after which I graduated to the primary school level. I made both my mom and teachers proud and was rewarded by being taken to a primary school not so far from home, which I gladly accepted.

From class 1 to class 3 at least I upheld my first position in everything, all subjects. they say that learning without play makes John a dull boy. It was the same with me. I was dull in the field, shy in crowds and short tempered. I could not go far with such characteristics. I eventually started dropping in my academics from the first term in class 4 and although I was normally punished, my situation could only worsen. By the time I was in class 7 on the first term, I was no longer among the top 10 learners in my class. By that time my mom's body was already weary and was by then she was suffering from cancer. It stressed me the most because she was the only parent that my siblings and I depended on as the sole provider.

My mother had been suffering silently for a period over a year while still struggling to raise us with help from nobody. We sometimes had to miss school in order to help her in her casual job, mostly weeding crops to raise income for our food and school purposes. She single-handedly raised is to be responsible youth in future and she succeeded. That was the best mother I ever had and the only one I have seen in the whole world.

We moved to our new home around four months before her health condition got even worse and when it did, it was in March 2015. Her body had weakened the most and she could no longer provide for us. Since we had no income source, my mom just spent the remaining time on her bed at home, taking some drugs that were prescribed to her as only pain killers that would only enable her get some sleep. I was afraid I was losing her and always prayed for her situation to improve but the devil was seemingly more portent than I believed. By the end of April the same year, her situation could no longer be managed at home and my mom had to be transferred to a health facility that was run by some foreigners and which provided healthcare services to patients with such conditions free of charge. Had we known of this early enough, my story would be totally a different one.

Being taken care of away from home, I had a speck of hope inside me that everything would someday be restored to normal. I continued going to school just like a normal kid but deep inside I was constantly worrying about how life's gonna change, my mom's situation since it had been weeks without seeing or speaking to her. Eventually, the month of May was over and 1st of June being a public holiday, and on a Sunday which was pushed to Monday, I could no longer hold it in my mind that everything was alright. On 2nd May which fell on Tuesday, I had a plan to seek permission from my class teacher to go and visit my mom even though I had no idea of the location the facility she had spent the month of May.

The day came, I woke up prepared myself and left for school. Everything ran smoothly as a normal school should then at around 9a.m. I was called from class by a lady with an advancement in age, actually a friend of my mom. Then the news broken to my brother and I that my mom was not going to be with us in this life anymore. I felt like I would die. The pillar of my life, the woman that made my life make sense had gone forever from the land of the living. I could not approve the news and although I felt hollow inside, I stood strong. Together with my brother we headed for our backpacks back in class and left for home. Not saying a single word to anyone.

On reaching home, we found a small gathering already around our small house, consisting of our neighbors and sone elders from the village. It was somehow comforting to see how united our small village was especially in times of need and grief like the situation of my home at that time. By that evening, some distant relatives had arrived to make preparation for my mom's sendoff ceremony. I felt our family a bit complete at least for that few days before and after the ceremony. Two days in the morgue, we went for my mom to bring her home. that was when my heart crumbled completely. I felt the guilt burning in my throat then spreading allover my body. The ground beneath was turning upside down and being unable to take more of the scene, I left the mourners and went to the further part of our compound, cried all the pain out of me till I felt some relief.

We spent that night by the fire, had no sleep. The next day was a Friday and I can not recall the events that took place but when evening came, we had supper and listened to music. At around 10p.m. the resting place was being prepared and by 2a.m. on Saturday it was done. We then had to sleep a few hours upto around 6a.m., time to prepare for the day. The normal burial procedure was followed and the ceremony was over. People started departing one by one and soon enough we were only family members and some neighbors. A few days later, all the relatives had gone and we were only left with my grandmom to stay with us. My sister, elder, then left for the city to hustle and fill our mom's place and start providing for our needs.

We resumed school, finished the term and after closing, we were back home, not knowing what would happen the next term of the academic calendar 2015. Luckily we had a good neighbor who linked us to the deputy headteacher of a school in our village, closer than the previous one, who helped us transfer to the school. That was when hope was reborn in me. I pledged to do my best for the sake of my mom. For the third term, we studied with my elder brother in the same class in the new school but the results were at average level. The next year we were told to re-do the class to allow my brother finish his class 8 first which we agreed. This fueled further mt ambition to do my best in academics and for the rest of my time in the school, I was among the top 2 students and I topped in the KCPE in the school, an achievement that left me feeling proud of myself and my teachers.


TO BE CONTINUED...