My son, for long I have been keeping my cool. Hurt that I don’t understand what is going on and hurt by trying to change what I thought I could. All,I couldn’t. Have you heard of the ancient adage, silence is the best weapon? I prayed not to fall a victim of it. I was contemplating not to tell the world what was really going on. But silence has never been my thing. You remember when you had a fight with our neighbors son, in me I was . I wanted to step in and help out but my feebleness couldn’t allow. Am worried that am fading off. My extraction maybe soon. I tried you know, I tried to live in peace.

For long, I had to think of a way of telling you the tales of our youth. Not the ‘paukwa and pakawa’ tales. Of the man with three eyes and a big mouth who was killed to save our ancestors. It had to be systematic in choosing the right way. That I may not scare you of the society you need to live in.

Son, things went into berserk. Who would have thought the air we breathe would one day be termed poisonous. At first , we heard of rumours of a man who contacted a contagious disease after making love to a bat. You have seen bat. Yes, a bat for Christ sake! That the man later became sick. But you know what made life Sweet at first, it was an illness of a distant land. We heard of people dying and saw the military cleaning the man’s callous deeds. His one night stand had made the all world panic. Were we there?

Slowly by slowly, we could feel it spread. We were scared. For us the poor people, we were more confused. Our hearts were consoled by the fact that we don’t travel. How could I travel to the big city when I couldn’t feed my starving self? Did I even have the courage to? I was happy.
And it hit our country.

We all wanted the neck of the first confirmed case. Why had the person chosen to bring the thing to our country? We were angry, angry with the fact that we had not seen an airport. Had we flew on a plane. No. Maybe the kites we flew looked like one. We felt betrayed. Betrayed by the rich, the people with a four course meal. Could we have done anything, no unless you opt to death as a consolance of living.

Things changed.
Our miracle performing men of God disappeared. We the religious poor people were hurt, had we not seen enough? Why had they chosen to take away that we cherished more? Churches were closed. Did I tell you why was said? It was the end if the world. I celebrated. I was going to out to an end to many earthly suffering. Had I not given my tithe accordingly? Had I not offered my all time for this day. My heart jubilated. I was ready for the apocalyptic end. My lyrical tongue composed and sung songs, ‘..we are going…we are going..’ Some said I had run mad. And when the day came for the trumpet to be blown,I waited. I stayed outdoors. I wanted to witness the day. I was hurt. The cold, I had not wished for that. We had been cheated again. Could we speak of the good when there was no good? They went to the wilderness to pray for the cup of the illness go be lifted from their mouths. And to make it possible, they gave us a channel we needed to give something small to our past. This time, I had learnt. I threw away my radio and kept my feet indoors. I had been mocked, the end I prayed and longed for disappointed me. You know what I told myself, I will hide way in shame.

Others were seen restocking their refrigerators. They bought food to keep them safe till sanity was restored. I had nowhere to restock. Farmers in the village for an opportunity to extort money from the rich. After all, they had in the past sold good to us my expensively. All this I had to watch. Seated in my shanty if a house, I was amazed things were different. Who had thought the poor farmers in our village will control the ways of the city people. I smiled.

Son, when we were told to stay in our villages and stop moving around. I was sad. I won’t speak of what would have been termed as criminally forced marriages, I will speak of the long weekends I had to adjust and live in. Where will I get a glass of wine? My throat ached. I was growing dry inside. The nearest pub was ten miles away. I couldn’t risk being beaten by the men in blue. I tried testing Mama Busaa concoction but it was bitter than life itself. It made me crawl to my house. When sanity was restored, I vowed to stop my drinking spree. That was the first divorce of many to come. I have since be promising the same but the sweet aroma keeps me knocking at her hurt.

Nonetheless son, I was happy. For long, we had no life at the village. Families had been living in separate places. Some children were heard complaining how they didn’t remember the face of their father. They kept looking at their faces and picking the best resemblance in a photo taken in 1980, when your grandfather was seen flirting with your nanny in his belly bottom swag. But when the illness knocked, families were United. We learnt to live in one village again. Though we were forced to put on some masks and wash our hands a thing I hated with passion, we could hold a constructive conversation with our old men.

Silence was the cure, if you see anything, don’t shout, if your hear anything assume and if you were a messager, write letters. It was a win for the introverts. We struggled. We couldn’t believe we were not going to even question our neighbor for our lost pot of ugali. Had we not been taught of sharing? We kept our cool: silence.

Had I known things would be this way son, I would have planned a better way I should live. You see, we lived with hope. Hope of not talking, living in silence and wishing that the government of the day will not wake up and clean the land. We knew they will chase us but we prayed. We yearned for freedom. Freedom to breathe, speak,talk and walk freely but we were each day given an additional cost of having butterflied lives. We hoped for normalcy. We hoped for the African we had lived believing in.

We needed to shake hands without fear, hug, kiss, gather, spit and shout I fear. But were these things going to happen? We gave posterity a eye of hope. That it will deal gently with us.

Son, but I learnt. To be a good swimmer. To survive, the storms were hard on us. We pulled through. I learnt that money would be useless if you had no peace of mind. I learnt of friendship that were shaken, of relationship that were broken. I learnt, without a good home, life would be meaningless. Our families became pillars of our happiness and our tomorrow.

Most importantly, these were the dark days for our lives and when you shall be telling the future generation of our lives, give them a true version of what happened. Have I not raised you with honesty.