Some memories are painful. Some, too painful to think about they come in your dreams. Dreams in which you find yourself crying, in which everything around you fades you bawling uncontrollably. I cried in my dream, only to wake up to tear filled eyes.
"Itakuwa sawa. Mungu anajua tu na itakuwa sawa. Anaona kila kitu na itakuwa poa tu. Itakuwa sawa baba". He kept saying as I held him him close, us watching two elderly women being taken around for their evening stroll. Though standing, each son tied the mother to his back, so they'd be able to walk properly without falling. I don't know the conditions ailing them. Not in the dream, not in real life.
My cousin was practically in the same scenario. We had to hold his hands to enable him walk. He couldn't see, despite having clear eyes. He couldn't talk on occasion. He would hear very little. In fact, the few words he knew were for indicating he was hungry, or needed to go relieve himself. We bathed him, toom him to the bathrooms and did everything for him. He couldn't even hold a cup of tea by himself. Yet there we were, in my dream, telling me everything is gonna be alright. Things he'd never said previously. At least not to me.
This cousin of mine in real life, had always been a cheerful and smart kid. Too smart I'd say. He was chirpy and active, jumping from place to place, house to house making merry. He was happy and we loved him. As his cousins, we hated that we at times had to compete for toys and whatnot. Before he fell ill, life was great and surplus in abundance. Surplus of everything kids would need growing up. He became sick and everything changed. Money became scarce and so did everything it purchased. Friends disappeared and happiness came in measured pints. Peace became foreign as his parents started fighting. It was the first time I saw a married couple fight. How do I fit in the picture? After the death of my parents, they took us in. It was tough, ten people living in that tiny house. No water or proper sanitation.
Countless trips to doctors, medicinemen and witchdoctors bore no fruit. Everyone kept saying "he has malaria", yet no one could find the right medication. His illness was marked by bouts of memory lapse and convulsing fits "kifafa" type.
The sounds of his head hitting the ground during these fits are vivid and succinct. The having to pick him up and all. After a few years, his hands coukdn't hold things then the blindness came. No one could point out the issue, not even now. Thankfully, he retained full functionality of his spine and legs. These are just some of the few things.
He passed on years ago and I am happy he could finally rest. He'd suffered enough times. Our life stopped to some extent, but I don't regret it. At least I spent time with him. Before his transition to glory, I'd have these dreams of some thorns gouging out the flesh in my feet, seeking to stab the bones.
As I was away at the time, no one told me of the event. Only when I returned and found him missing did I know, and get meaning to the dream which I had on the same day he passed.
I dreamt of him today, in the dream, his words painfully reminding me of the struggles he'd been through. I woke up with tears in my eyes. Tears that connecting with the dream, evoked memories of days gone by.
His last words in that dream "itakuwa sawa baba" have me worried and in limbo.
"Itakuwa sawa. Mungu anajua tu na itakuwa sawa. Anaona kila kitu na itakuwa poa tu. Itakuwa sawa baba". He kept saying as I held him him close, us watching two elderly women being taken around for their evening stroll. Though standing, each son tied the mother to his back, so they'd be able to walk properly without falling. I don't know the conditions ailing them. Not in the dream, not in real life.
My cousin was practically in the same scenario. We had to hold his hands to enable him walk. He couldn't see, despite having clear eyes. He couldn't talk on occasion. He would hear very little. In fact, the few words he knew were for indicating he was hungry, or needed to go relieve himself. We bathed him, toom him to the bathrooms and did everything for him. He couldn't even hold a cup of tea by himself. Yet there we were, in my dream, telling me everything is gonna be alright. Things he'd never said previously. At least not to me.
This cousin of mine in real life, had always been a cheerful and smart kid. Too smart I'd say. He was chirpy and active, jumping from place to place, house to house making merry. He was happy and we loved him. As his cousins, we hated that we at times had to compete for toys and whatnot. Before he fell ill, life was great and surplus in abundance. Surplus of everything kids would need growing up. He became sick and everything changed. Money became scarce and so did everything it purchased. Friends disappeared and happiness came in measured pints. Peace became foreign as his parents started fighting. It was the first time I saw a married couple fight. How do I fit in the picture? After the death of my parents, they took us in. It was tough, ten people living in that tiny house. No water or proper sanitation.
Countless trips to doctors, medicinemen and witchdoctors bore no fruit. Everyone kept saying "he has malaria", yet no one could find the right medication. His illness was marked by bouts of memory lapse and convulsing fits "kifafa" type.
The sounds of his head hitting the ground during these fits are vivid and succinct. The having to pick him up and all. After a few years, his hands coukdn't hold things then the blindness came. No one could point out the issue, not even now. Thankfully, he retained full functionality of his spine and legs. These are just some of the few things.
He passed on years ago and I am happy he could finally rest. He'd suffered enough times. Our life stopped to some extent, but I don't regret it. At least I spent time with him. Before his transition to glory, I'd have these dreams of some thorns gouging out the flesh in my feet, seeking to stab the bones.
As I was away at the time, no one told me of the event. Only when I returned and found him missing did I know, and get meaning to the dream which I had on the same day he passed.
I dreamt of him today, in the dream, his words painfully reminding me of the struggles he'd been through. I woke up with tears in my eyes. Tears that connecting with the dream, evoked memories of days gone by.
His last words in that dream "itakuwa sawa baba" have me worried and in limbo.
Thats deep .sorry about your cuzo man and the whole scenario.Hope your family is doing good