Meandering bolts

May 17, 2020 0 By Borusei Enoch

‘Ward 14, bed 39…’ a booming voice ordered from a megaphone.
I writhe in pain as the nurse came to my direction. She wore a long white gown, and to accentuate her profession, she had a stethoscope and wore dark glasses. Brown complexion- just like my cousin who had loathed me that I was an uneducated writer- and her eyes were beautiful.
‘How’re you doing?’ she asked me.
‘How can you ask of my welfare yet you can’t attend to me?’ I said in fury.
I felt a bile of anger, guilt building in my spine down to the toes. The bandage on my head that secured a needle that pumped distilled water to my veins. I felt the nurse was laughing to my poor self. She never knew my pain- she was another lump of evils who never minded, I mean, who never know the pain patients undergo before finally being brought to hospital with the hope of vanquishing their wrath.
‘It seems you want to go to the moon, I bet, you are one of those people who think that the government pays us to treat you. For your information, this is a sacrifice young man…’ she said and left.
“To the moon?” I wondered.
***
Two days ago, I was I the venge of death. I had contemplated suicide. Death was a wish to me- and it was already done. It was a sweet pain, no complaints, driven to Canaan in a peaceful world. My fiancée, Marriam, had done one away with me, she called me a hog, a village pumpkin who lacked sophistication, and worse still a cad. She left a note to me that she did not hate me but was done with me. It drove me wild. If only she knew she was driving me to dystopia, she would have recalled the days I used to adjure my father’s instructions and sneak to their home to have time with her. She had forgotten that promissory cry.
What drove me to the act of insanity robs me of my happiness was the fact that Marriam had promised never to let me down. Recalling the days I had been admitted at the hospital for a mild cold that later turned out to be an almost fatal heart failure, I vowed to be a recluse- as Marriam had not even visited me. Those days marked the end of affection to ladies – except Beatrice who had been my teacher when in Form Three. The road to love became dark, and any hope of seeing the light at the end of the tunnel were slim, and adjure me you- I am my own god.
I left Marriam standing with my mother, contemplating whether to go back to my shanty or to the town nearest home. ‘Yes’ I sighed and vowed to go to the centre. I knew folks had missed me. Worse enough, I had been an introvert, a poor scribe, whose stories had featured in the minds of the villagers for decades.
I saw the last of my mother, and knew I was going to die. I never wanted to feel the guilt of being in love with Marriam – I had consulted my wit, and was sure it was the best decision.
‘Jasiri, Jasiri, please…’ was the last voice I heard as I banged the gate, gently wishing for that end.

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I skipped several roots that blocked the way to the village forest, armed with veterinary drugs in my pocket. They seemed heavy than it could be. My worls had become so small that I thought all eyes were on me. Finally I came to a clearing part of the forest. I mixed the drugs, and came up with a nasty, horrible concoction that could awaken the living dead. I faced the sky, swore by my ancestors’ names and faced the West -that was where God saw the innocent souls_like mine.
“Gulp! Gulp!” The sound of the concoction dripping in my throat voiced. The bolts of my body weakened. I tried to move and turn, but I was powerless as if my believe in the West was so strong, and to boost it’s cranking job, I felt like a seasonal river left to drain in my own jaws and bones: the bolts of my body. Sharp objects walked through my body, and suddenly fell to a trance (I guess).
*Dreamland*
My lifeless body stood at the forest’s clearing. My soul was now being lifted; towards Canaan. As I floated on the clouds, white and feathery cushions comforted me. I could see the Canaan gates at a distance. So quickly I was being taken and so was the pain in me- my chance was wasted, I wondered why I had to be taken so fast. But I assured my own self that the innocent ones are not left to feel the pain of suicide.
‘Finally at home!’ I guessed. The gates of that Holy place were still closed, two angels stood firm. [Angels are humans- be informed.] I longed for their touch, and as soon as they stretched to receive me, I felt darkness…
***
Some steps faded away. A sweet smell carried by the ventilators came to my direction. Dim lights came to my eyes. I felt a soft pain as a jelly-like pipe thrust into my throat. Then some force of nauseating built in my stomach, winging pain kept in all corners of my body: save for one, my right hand was the most painful as it had a needle that carried distilled water to my body. My bolts screeched in agony, my jaws, bones were powerless. My heart seemed to drop in the next few minutes, but I pressed on: “Sonny Boy, you are a victor! I opened my eyes in plain pain, and saw the nurse lowering a breather nozzle. She laid me back, and forced them to my nostrils and I tried to request her to let me do it because the pain was unbearable: I had already wet myself, and loathsome to say, my back ached with proportional returns. told me to honour her work, and she predicted that one day I shall acknowledge my unwisdom. I obeyed.
I felt immortal and unsusceptible, I could move my eyes and saw a brown ceiling coated with mild white wood vanish, a spider moved across the ceiling and I closed my eyes.
‘Darling! Your deeds are sombre! That nurse told me you are indiscipline, why don’t you respect her profession?’ a sonorous voice came as I felt a soft, familiar touch in my shoulder.
I could clearly hear and smell hope, but little did I know she was Marriam!
*
I am now in Kilimani, my home. Marriam has since been my tower of strength. We have reunited and all thoughts of being a recluse are down the drain. Recuperating from mild amnesia, depression, I was restricted to low sodium diet; but I have resumed my writings either. I knew I had betrayed the moon and the stars, but I know, ‘Sonny Boy ‘, I shall win. One day, the meandering bolts shall cease.