MEMENTO ROCK

Graves of memories

We waited anxiously for the day to rest our late parents in peace. In my eyes, it was melodramatic and I couldn’t believe that I was not to see them again. I didn’t lose hope as I had my beloved sister with me. We knew that it was a calamity that left most our relatives and neighbors sad although sadist were eating in excess. 

Very early that delightful day, our aunt Nyokabi from Laikipia East was preparing us. We wore identical white T-shirts well written, “You have gone early” with red fonts. We matched with black shorts and red adidas shoes. 

We moved from cucu’s home towards our home. We went playing and singing songs that we were taught by our late mother. Just before we had entered the gate, my sister, Annitah stood in front of me, as we stood gazing at each other, I noticed tears that she was in tears.

“Imagine that our parents are no longer with us. I wish I had power over death, I could not allow people to put them under heavy masses of mud,” She said wiping her tears.

“Annitah! One day our God will avenge with righteousness. He will not let blood of his people to flow like that of animals. Remember nothing is late as long as you wait. This is a challenge to great life full of testimony. Only remember my dad’s words ‘let no one separate you…’ They are gone and buried in the grave of history! Baby sister don’t cry,” I pleaded soothingly.

A loud siren of the hearse was heard from a distance. Commonly, it was a cry of sadness that messed many hearts. It entered through the gate and was parked just near the front door. When people say it, cries hit the air. Those who had went to get the body also induced others to cry. 

The ceremony was well arranged by the committee in charge. Food was in plenty, as well as bottled drinking water. When everything was in order, ceremony started.

As it was programmed, Ann was to present her tribute poem. I saw her on the stage later holding a microphone ready to recite the poem. She started; “Distinguished guests, Ladies and gentlemen, in front of you, is Queen Annitah Wambugu ready to break the silence of sorrow with a poem entitled

‘IT’ TOO EALY’

Welcome. 

Soft voice caresses our ears

As an African queen is up to sing

Sweet rhythms you taught will ring

Our mind as great and sweet years 

It’s too early, we’ll miss you

Best words ever spoken

That guided any minutes passed

Our dad, you never cursed

Your blessings were big token

It’s too early, we’ll miss you 

Life with you was wow

Great things that taught you did

Your goodness was great indeed

We still recall them till now

It’s too early, we’ll miss you 

Ephemeral life you fought

To meet our life admirations 

Good things was your activations 

We’re grand for anything taught

It’s too early, we’ll miss you 

Respect…respect you deserve

For good job well done

Your mercy our love tune

Tuned day and night serve

It’s too early’ we’ll miss you 

Thank you”

Tears was left flowing, washing everyone’s cheeks as she stepped down.

A horrid feeling attacked! I sat down slowly as Annitah left the stage. Tears spilled out but nobody bothered but I wiped myself. I wondered where the comforters were to repair my broken heart. I knew Jesus was around in such a hard a moment, as dad used to say.

I looked at the ground for some minutes thinking about my late parents. I recalled the last day that we spent in fishing, the last story that dad narrated that made me perspire. 

“It is nascent of phantasmagoria horrendous life,” I said to myself.

I was driven out of thinking by a young woman, who wore blue long dress, blue pairs of shoes that was high heel and French plaited hair. 

“Why cry boy? Stand up and wipe dust, life will move on smoothly,” She said gravitasly revealing a smile of friendship. 

I had not seen her before, although she appeared familiar. She lifted me up forcing me to stand. I did not like to stay with people who were strangers. For this reason, I turned back and walked away, leaving her mouth open.

She instead followed me slowly. I was still looking for my baby sister. Annitah, who had interacted with resident and eventually dissolved. I surfed and surfed until I could do no more. To make it easy, I went at the graves and sat on a hip of soil. 

“Go anywhere you think but finally you will come here mummy,” I said as if I was telling Annitah.

Some minutes later, the congregation turned to the graves, carrying coffins and beautiful crosses in front, held by two girls. A young man, who appeared to be my uncle, was holding two framed photos: one for dad and another one for mom. That of my dad made me remembers many things. 

I remembered one day, our old great wall television set had a rat inside. My dad thought for some time and decided to kill the rat without destroying the television set. He lifted it and placed in a nylon sack. He asked mum to hold the sack open .He bent and snaked inside.

Due to his length, he could not get in wholly, it could only accommodate from head to the stomach. He insisted that it was to be tied tightly at the waist. In the sack, he started to work. He opened the screws using a screw driver. 

Just as he had screwed them out, he opened the television set paying attention to the wires. There was silence for some minutes. We thought he was suffocating the enormous rat. Truly, in the sack he was searching for it slowly.

“Uuuuiii don’t kill me! Saitani! Kufa!” He yelled breaking into a sudden run around the yard.

He collided with wall but he could not stop. His body was still half in the sack and he could not stop. I could not imagine that he was running away from the rat that he was carrying. Suddenly he fell and calmed, mummy untied the nylon sack, only to find that he was holding it tightly at the stomach.

I was suddenly, dragged back to my sense by people around me. They were placed on the klini a machine to take them down. This scenario caused heart attack to many. Then, people started to faint and fell as flats fall when bombed in the middle of the city. Soon, prayers were over and they were released to join the world of spirit.

The priest, Johana Muthingu said, “…Neither didn’t we come here to eat nor to gaze .We are here to show our last respect to our beloved ones. I may ask you with a lot of humility, to take some soil with your hand and throw when I tell you to do so.”

He then prayed, then, “…may soil become soil, ash back to ash, amen. You can now throw yours….”

Spades and jembes competed in the race, ‘Take soil down’. Within no time, the graves were fully covered: with many tonnes of soil and addition of mud. 

Flowers were placed on top and they planted some live ones. All this happened behind our luxurious house surrounded by mango trees.

“They will never miss mangoes as they are just under mango trees shade,” someone joked, as people left for the meal.

Gradually, the day came to pass. We suddenly found ourselves at night, in a nebulous room full of infantile stories and noxious remarks.

Both paternal and maternal cousins were there arranged in groups of three to five busy chatting with each other. It was inevitable night. What closed the day in blues? 

Early the next morning, my ‘swimming’ cousins, who went to change cloths, waked me up. Someone had stepped on my head as she passed. Suddenly: “Amekojoa! Amekojoa…” was sang from the corner by a young girl. That was Annitah. I lifted my head to see but my eye saw darkness in the dusty room.

I stood up and walked out blindly, with an incessant pace I got my way out though it was quite dark. The ephemeral night was dissolving in the bright yellowish light from the east. A piquant aroma from the kitchen in the neighbor’s homestead gave me a reason to smile. 

The straight beams now flooded everywhere. Everyone was waking up. Aunts started wandering around in the compound with thermos flasks and “vikombe za wageni” serving us with coffee.

After that, a family meeting was held and it was decided that we were to be separated my sister, Annitah and I. Although it pained I had no powers over such decisions. She was to live with maternal relatives and I was left with paternal relatives. I felt like I have been or jailed.