THE LAST MOMENTS WITH MY MOTHER (Excerpts from my Memoir) If there is a story that has been hard to pen, it is that of the death of my mother. This is because of the emotions it rekindles because mum was the first member of my nuclear family that I’ve lost. Ever since, death had visited the family in a disgusting pattern; my two lovely nieces, Okwaro’s son and daughter, (December 1998), our last born Fabian Humphrey Juma (December 1999), my dad Solomon Were, (October 2000). Mum was to begin this pattern on Monday the 27th July, 1998. Death then gave us a break and it was not until 2011 that Okwaro lost another son, Sally. The Saturday of 25th July, 1998 remains a memorable day in my life. When I walked into the house, a feeble sound came from the bedroom, “Davis, come closer.” That was mum calling. She had been sick for quite long. Mum, was now too weak to do anything, not even being able to eat. She was now home after being discharged from the hospital, for home-based care. She was so emaciated that what remained of her was just a bunch of bones wrapped in an elastic skin. I walked in to see what she wanted. As the light lacerated through the window and hit her sunken eyes, I saw a very tired soul. As she tried to give me a smile, she looked even sadder. She struggled to turn over to face me fully before asking me to sit on a stool that was beside her bed. She was now breathing faster, widening her nose to supply her with more oxygen. “My son, I don’t ….. I don’t know how to tell you this be…. because…. because I’ve just talked to your dad …… and ….and he left here crying,” she said with difficulty. Mum had chosen to share with me what had moved dad to tears. Dad of all the people! For God’s sake, I was just a Std 7 and only 13 years old by then. Since I didn’t want to betray the trust and confidence she had in me, I feigned a smile and sat to listen to her. “Davis, I’ve been sick now for quite long. I don’t understand what I’ve been feeling of late, but what I’m sure of…. Ouch! ……” she cried in pain. I could see she was not feeling well. She paused for a while then continued, “Am sure am dying very soon. I can’t explain what I’m feeling in my body. I’ve also had some nightmares of late.” I didn’t know whether to start crying or to brave on. I felt a lump in my throat and hot tears in my eyes but I managed to hold them back. I did not say a word. I cupped my mouth with my right hand as I held her hand with my left hand. Her body was colder than usual. My nose was stuffy as my lips began shaking. I had to juggle between comforting mum and controlling my emotions. It was not easy. Mum then continued, “But don’t worry because I’ve told your dad to take good care of you.” There was a dead silence in the room. I could hear Amas, my younger brother shouting outside, playing with the other children, quite oblivious of what was taking place. He was much younger then. “And Dave,” mum then continued, “you know you are now a grown up. Don’t ever bathe in the open from today. Always take your shower from the bathroom.” I could not understand why she had to tell me this, but I suddenly realized I was a grown up and I can confirm that I’ve never betrayed her in this. I did not know what to say to a person declaring that she is dying. Mum had treated me as a grown up and so I had to act to her expectations. I gathered strength and said, “Mum, God is with you and you won’t die before He says so. Just open your mouth and eat something mum, ok? Just eat something and you’ll be stronger.” Mum did not want any food. It was dad who would come late in the night to force her to take something but all that came out in vomit, just as soon as she swallowed them. I was informed from my primary school knowledge that without food, she wouldn’t stay for longer. As I constantly pestered her to bite something, mum would turn and look at me in tears and say, “Davis my son, I’m trying but I can’t. I don’t feel like eating. You’ll be sick one day and you’ll understand what I’m telling you, my son.” She would say this exposing all her regular, but now creamy teeth. This only hurt me more. How did she expect to feel better without food? My experience during the period mum was sick would ordinarily be unimaginable, but, being her first born, I had to take care of her whenever the elders were not around. She had to answer the frequent calls of nature. We had to attend to her, taking her to the toilet, supporting her there as she relieved herself and thereafter, wiping her of her waste like a baby. Later when she could not make it to the toilet, we had to help her relieve herself in a basin within the house. It was such a nasty experience. I knew mum would not have loved me to see her naked, but she had no option. I had none either. And so, when she called to tell me all these, I knew so well that she had given up in life. She had accepted to go in peace, but not before she said bye to me. That is why the following day which was a Sunday, I overheard some faithful who had come to visit the sick declare that Nyaloka (as mum was fondly referred to as) would not see the light of the next day. It dawned on me that I’d soon me motherless. It is the reason some family members stayed awake into the night in our house. We, the children, went to sleep in the adjacent house where we would sleep with some of my cousins; unconscious of the fact mum would certainly pass on that night. We sang some of mum’s favorite songs till late into the night, which was so unusual of us. As it drizzled, we soon fell asleep with the pattering sound on the iron-sheet roof lulling us to sleep. When everybody, including those who were in the main house, had fallen asleep, Pamela Atieno Were, Min Dave, passed on quietly in her sleep just an hour after midnight. That was the early hours of the 27th July, 1998. It was still dark. That is how her 14 years of family life was concluded. That is where her 2 years of serious sickness led her to. That is how a life that had started in 1965 came to an end. Mum was dead. When it was day break that Monday, she was taken to the mortuary as burial arrangements were made. It is during that period that it was decided that Pamela Atieno Were, Nyaloka, Min Dave, would be laid to rest on the 8th of August, 1998, a day that is book-printed in my memory.
Posted on: Fri, 23 Aug 2013 06:14:01 +0000
Trending Topics
Recently Viewed Topics
© 2015