Wails of My Mother

The air didn’t smell fresh.

A weak smile remotely evident from her face manifested agony. The beautiful dimple that always appeared whenever she smiled had faded, while her smooth, brown and always glossy skin seemed dry, dull and wrinkled. The blue checked dress she wore made her look like she was worth celebrating golden jubilee in her life. Although she tried to conceal the pool of agony she was bathing, her sullen eyes explicitly told of the pain. Her chest heaved up and down slowly and heavily while the rest of the body remained still on the adjustable hospital bed. A board with scribbles on the widely spaced ruled paper hung adjacent to a slowly life support machine, which had a screen that showed some colored illustrations moving up and down. The writing on the suspended board was extremely illegible, and he could only manage to read one name- Olivia, which was the name of his mother. He wondered whether the person who scribbled on the paper did that while asleep, or was simply influenced by something. If the person who wrote did that in their class, his English teacher would put him in a separate room and be given over three hours to train on how to write. The rule said that you could not join letters.

“Things will be okay son. Trust in God.” she muttered while holding his clumsy hand. The hand shake lingered for a period of time, leaving Owen’s body with twinge of cold sensations. He wanted to say something; he attempted but no words really came out of his mouth. He obliviously licked his upper lips before he covered his eyes with his left hand. The thin mucus was unstoppable, sliding all the way to the immaculate white bed sheet that covered his mother.

The small crowd gathered around the bed was all quiet. Their stark look at him made him fight off tears that threatened to leak. He wasn’t fond of standing amidst adults. His mum had warned him against so, and more so, against making contributions in an adult discussion. Owen never understood why his mother never liked him making a contribution if he had an idea.

“Please trust in God, I will be okay.” she winced in agony, her cheeks faintly slushed.

Owen knew his heartbeats were visible on the checked red uniform shirt he wore. His hands too were shaking. He had thought that only adults sweat in their armpits, but here he was sweating like an adult. May be he was becoming an adult. He had noticed some grains of hair in some spots, and though embarrassed of it, his class teacher had once explained that adolescents start to experience changes in their bodies, including deepening of voice for boys and attraction to the opposite sex. His voice however had not started, and he still could be mistaken to be a girl if he talked. This too was embarrassing, though it never killed what his auntie called chatty character. The grains of hair in parts of his body that remained covered by his clothes was an indication that at twelve years, adolescence stage was kicking in. However, he wasn’t excited about it. In fact, he was somehow confused, especially after he found the underpants he had worn two weeks ago at night was wet. He couldn’t explain the happening, and he was embarrassed to ask anyone.

He blinked repeatedly, vowing not to shed a tear in front of the people who had come to visit his mother at the hospital ward.

The frail squeeze from his mother pierced his heart sharply. He wiped the thin mucus that continued to wreak havoc to his nostrils.

“Mum, are you well?” he asked obliviously, unable to control the tears that had welled in his eyes. “Are you feeling pain?”

“Owen, please be strong.” she muttered softly, but wincing in apparent pain. A tear slid down his left eye and fell on the pillow that his mother placed her head on. Her eyes were manifest of pain.

“I love you mum.”

He released his hand from her and wiped the tears now flowing down his brown and smooth unscarred cheeks. He felt the wrinkled hands of his grandmother on his shoulder, palming him softly. His mother’s iris soaked in a pool of water, and she started weeping quietly. She took her eyes away from him. The ticking of the machine seemed to grow louder and faster. Owen didn’t know whether to tell her the good news.

The Governor had visited the school, and awarded him with five story books for having written an essay that won praise in the County Exams. He even took a photo with the Governor, and he was longing to get hold of the photo. He had wanted to share the news with his mother, but she now looked weak, and he wondered whether to inform her of the news.

“Mum, have you talked with the Doctor?” she asked her grandmother in a weak and sorrowful voice.

“We have Waitherero.” her grandmother responded, calling her mother by her second name. “Your dad talked to Doctor Brian, and they agreed that you will be transferred to the National Referral Hospital late in the night. They will use the hospital ambulance, but this can only be done late in the evening once the traffic jam eases. They said the equipment they require is not available here”

She tried to change her position. She was assisted by Mrs. Valentina, her friend and colleague at the school she taught English and History. Both were teachers at Fountain of Hope Senior Academy, located a few kilometers from his home.

Mrs. Valentina stood tall. The black high heels she wore exaggerated the height. She had applied her usual red lip stick and kept on brushing her long hair with her hands. Just recently, Owen learnt that many friends to his mother had artificial hair on their heads. His mother however didn’t, as she had long curly hair. If Owen was a girl, he too would have the same. Unfortunately, he was a boy, and he had to visit the barber every week. His hair grew very fast. He had inherited a lot from his mother, including his brown color and bushy eye brows. Their skin was similarly hairy.

She closed her eyes as Mrs. Valentina helped her lay facing up. She was evidently in great pain.

Owen’s mind was in a marathon of thoughts, though he didn’t know in particular what he was thinking about. He could see the real pain his mother was going through and his grandmother was affected too. Her sagging chins told it all. Her blood pressure had gone up. Though she was acting strong, Owen knew she too was suffering inside. She was supporting herself with the bed, and her nose drenched of sweat, as was the case when her blood pressure was going up. Only his grandfather was able to conceal his feelings. He remained stationary behind the other teacher that Owens mother worked with. His hands, that were characterized by numerous protruding veins, crossed to his chest. He stood still in his brown kaunda suit. He constantly licked his lips, wetting his greying moustache that he hardly shaved.

There was eerie silence for some time, as his mother remained with her eyes closed, possibly waiting for the pain to ease. There were soft groans of pain coming from each gasp of air.

“Please drink the juice Madam Olivier.” Pastor Grace appealed.

“I will puke.” Her mum answered, with her eyes still closed. A drip of tear was drying off on her cheek.

“It would be good to take something,” her grandmother intervened. His mother shook her head.

Owen sat on the bed and held her hand again. Was his mother going to die? He wondered.

“Mum, you always tell me to eat when I am sick. Please drink the juice. You need to be strong.”

She smiled weakly, but with her eyes still closed. Owen felt the weak squeeze of her hand. He wished it was a dream.

He had become fond of his mother because only the two of them completed their nuclear family. There was a special bond between them. They talked like two adults in the house. Though he was only twelve years, his mother treated him like a young adult. Their bond was so strong that Owen never dreamt of joining a boarding school, even a secondary school. He had assured his mother that he will join a day secondary school two years to come so as to give her company every day. His mother was supportive of the idea.

“Owen, I love you,” she took a breath “You need to go home and study,” she whispered, her eyes remaining half opened. Her look was filled with compassion.

An eerie silence followed.

“Am feeling sleepy” she finally muttered.

She continued looking at him before she slowly fell sleep. Owen gazed at her, sorrow and despair devastating him. He fought off the idea that anything bad could happen and separate him with his mother. Nothing could and should happen. He had a friend who lost both of his parents in an accident. Life changed terribly, and his friend had to transfer from their school because his grandparents could not afford to pay for him the required school fees. His friend finally disappeared, and he has never heard what happened to him. He heard his mother say that his friend was taken to a children’s home. His grandparents were able but he couldn’t imagine living without his mother. Again, his grandfather, a farmer with a big land, had military rules, and Owen could not live to them. He could not forgive God if his mother died, he thought.

He felt like sobbing loudly.

He stood up and walked out of the quiet room, which had the humming florescent lamp and the ticking machine connected to her mother as the only audible voice. He pushed the door, and almost collided with a nurse who was pushing a cart filled with medicines.

“Sorry.” she apologized in a soft voice.

Owen didn’t respond, but continued walking hastily as he wiped the tears streaming down his eyes. He didn’t know where he was walking to.

“Please God, you know how prayerful we are, and how we always pray you every evening. Please heal my mother.” he whispered as he occupied a seat that he found at a clean reception, where two nurses dressed in immaculate white dresses sat. They didn’t pay any attention to the big screened TV. A football match was playing.

A middle aged nurse was busy going through some files. Her plaited hair matched well with her broad face. She looked like one of the teachers of Grace School, Kerugoya, where he schooled. His English sounded perfect, with a voice that gave the impression of a kind and affable person. She looked simple.

Her colleague, who dressed similar to her looked almost the same age with Jade, a college girl in their neighborhood, whom his mother loathed because of her behavior. Jade could wear any manner of dress, including torn jeans, and would have weird hairstyles, including leaving a bit of hair on top of her heard and shaving completely on the rest of the head. She talked with a heavy voice, which made her mother say that she was drunk most of the times.

The young nurse was busy on her smart phone. She smiled charmingly when she saw him, and rose from the beautifully glossy reception with swinging seats and approached him. She sat next to him on the glossy metallic pew.

“You were here sometime back, weren’t you?”

Owen had even forgotten that they were at the hospital with her mother three weeks ago. It was him who was not feeling well and was brought to the hospital after he fainted at school. His mother was advised to bring him back after a month in order to carry out some tests that the doctor prescribed. His mother didn’t explain further on the tests, but Owen definitely could not fail to notice his mother’s shock on the Doctor’s prescription. Her eyes had watered significantly that day, and she failed to explain further when Owen enquired what the problem was. The thing she explained was that he was supposed to see another medical consultant after a month. Owen didn’t bother to follow up. The feeling however had not eased successively. He still felt weak at times, and feared that he could faint again. However, his condition was nothing compared to the condition that his mother had fought off for over three years.

“Yes, I was here with mum. Now she is the one who is sick”

“She will be okay” she told him as she touched the flowers placed on the glass table. The middle aged nurse at the reception desk gave him a curious look.

Owen gazed blankly at the white ceiling. He didn’t know the nurse, but he wasn’t a reserved person. His mum at times accused him of talking too much, even to strangers.

“Will mum be okay?” He asked with tears still sliding down to his shirt. He jerked his jaws and leant on the seat as he fought off the bad feeling that cut across his body. The paranoia of fainting again swept over him.

“She will be. Please have faith. Your mum was my teacher in secondary school. I know she is a strong lady”

Owen smiled in spite of the sad feeling he was having.

“I love my mum very much and am praying for her. Do you think God will heal her?”

“She will be okay.” The nurse at the desk responded, before she tapped the pen on her lips. Owen thought it was sadness that he saw inscribed on the nurses face. She looked at him in some sharp striking eyes. He was ashamed and he looked away and noticed two women standing near the elevators and didn’t seem to be in a hurry.

“You better get AIDS than cancer. You get it, you die.” The short plump lady was saying while looking directly to the tall, huge woman who was dressed in old faded jeans and a stained white blouse. Her short hair was dyed red, and her black eyebrows seemed quite exaggerated and overstretched. They must have been the artificial eyebrows that many ladies were fond of wearing. Owen had never known why people shaved their eyebrows and then draw the artificial ones. His mother never wore anything artificial, including nails that he found Ken’s mother wearing. The pink lipstick that the lady painted on her lips left Owen wondering whether she was comfortable with it because she must have tasted in her mouth. Maybe it tasted like ice cream.

Owen didn’t know whom they were talking about, but he guessed they were talking of his mother.

“The lady is really suffering” the tall lady answered in a deep voice. She was shaking her head pitifully.

“Did you go to school today?” the nurse sitting next to him asked.

Owen didn’t respond as he strove to listen to what the ladies were talking about.

“At times its better to die than undergo all the suffering yet someone was still going to die…Cancer, mmh, that’s a death sentence. That is one sickness I pray to never contract for sure”

“Excuse me, could you please observe some silence?” the nurse sitting at the reception asked them. “Kindly observe what that sign requests.” she pointed at the sign placed at the wall requesting visitors to observe silence. She looked quite angry.

“Sorry,” the short lady responded curtly. She hunched her shoulders with pride.

Owen stared at them until they took into the elevator. The door locked gradually before their voices vanished. Owen remained staring at the elevator, reflecting on what they said. He had heard of the same from other people. He had asked his mother about it, especially when he found her browsing on cancer, including one that had the name Leukemia. Owen’s attention was drawn to the seriousness that she had displayed on her face, which had a worried expression. They did not discuss anything much, even when Owen asked what Leukemia was. He however wondered whether his mum suffered from Leukemia.

“Is it true that if you have cancer you have to die?” he finally asked the nurse who was sitting next to him. “Is it a death sentence?”

The nurse was hesitant to respond. He wanted to repeat the question because he thought she didn’t hear it.

“You see, no one will ever live forever in this world.” the middle aged nurse at the reception spoke in an urban accent. “Everyone will ultimately die son. However, it doesn’t mean that when you get cancer then you are condemned to death. No. Cancer is manageable, just like many other diseases. You can live long enough. Remember one thing; no one is born to live forever, isn’t it?”

“Do you think the time for my mother to…I mean, do you think she will be okay and go home and start to teach?”

The little silence made him conclude that the nurses knew the condition with his mum was serious, and maybe she will not survive as the ladies had said.

“What will make my mum be healed?”

Another silence followed, and Owen’s thoughts revolved between himself and his mum.

A split of second once again brought some darkness in him and he thought his heartbeats took an instant pause, leaving him wondering whether everything was alright. His science teacher had said that hearts never stop beating, and that if they do so, one just dies. He touched his left breast and felt it was okay.

He wished he will never get cancer. But something he recalled appeared confusing. Their guidance counseling teacher had said that there were different kinds of doctors, and one ought to be specific when he says his dream is to become a doctor. The question was which kind of doctor: one to treat hearts, brains, children and so many other kinds he had mentioned but he couldn’t remember.

What kind of doctor was treating his mum, and why was he the same doctor who examined him when he visited the hospital?

“Who is the Doctor attending to my mother?” he asked curiously.

“He is called Doctor Adriel, I suppose. But there is Dr. Brian too,” the young nurse answered.

“Are you talking of the one with sun glasses?” the nurse at the reception asked

“No.”

“Then that is Dr. Brian.” she responded. “He is one of the best Oncologist…I mean doctor for treating cancer. He is doing his best for your mother.” The young nurse responded. “He consults even in other hospitals.”

“Does he examine cancer cases only?” Owen asked “Is he a doctor of cancer?”

“Yes. That is his specialty.” the young nurse responded.

The middle aged nurse looked at the young nurse as if she had done a mistake. His mother was fond of such looks, especially when in the company of other people. Her look in such a case was enough to communicate an order, and Owen would understand immediately. Maybe he was required to keep quiet, or leave them.

“Why did he examine me?” Owen enquired further.

There was some silence.

“I hope my mum will be okay.” he said in a skeptical tone. He wondered what would happen if the condition of his mother deteriorated.

“The most important gift we have as human beings is the gift of hope.” The middle aged nurse at the reception said, perusing what appeared to be a Bible. “Even people in the Bible were healed because of having faith and hope. Your mum will be okay. You only need to have a positive mental attitude…”

There was a disruption from a call.

“Sister Nelly at the reception, can I help you?” she answered kindly. It was a good name, Owen thought. He had never heard anyone with such a name.

“What about her? Do you think if she has hoped she will get well?” Owen asked immediately Sister Nelly was done.

“Why not? You see, hope can supersede anything else in this world. Can I read you a verse in the Bible?” Sister Nelly asked as she hurriedly flipped pages of the Bible. His mum too was fond of reading the Bible every day before she retired to bed.

“Proverbs 17 verse 22 says that…” she paused reflectively. “…a cheerful heart is good medicine, but a crushed spirit dries up in the bone.”

Owen looked at the nurse as she closed the small Bible, placing it on the table. The discussion had remained between him and Sister Nelly. The young nurse was busy with her phone. Was she chatting in social site that their guidance and counseling teacher had warned against? She had told them that chatting in the social site can be addictive, and their concentration should be in learning. Owen had always known that the site belonged to adults.

“…when you have hope son, you can achieve almost everything…”

“If you are to get cancer like my mum, would you be stressed?” Owen asked.

The nurse cleared her throat, a smile inscribed on her oily face. The young nurse now listened attentively.

“I will definitely be sad, but I would not give up. You see, someone somewhere is working day and night to get a cure for cancer. If you give up, the cure will not get you alive, because you will have died out of giving up. I will wake up every day filled with hope, no matter the pain and agony. I will sleep every night knowing that am going to wake up to a day that holds a lot of hope. I will convince my mind that something good is going to come, no matter what. I would view health as a reality in my life, rather than looking at my condition as a curse of pain. Hope, hope and hope” she smiled again.

“Can you talk to my mum sister?” Owen said convincingly.

A phone call seized off the good opportunity.

Hope, hope and hope, I wish the nurse could talk to my mum, he thought loudly.

“I wish you could talk to my mum.” he reiterated when the nurse was done with the call.

“Given the opportunity, I will.” she answered proudly.

There was silence, with only the sound of the TV wafting in the clean environment.

“I hope my mum will be fine.” He nodded his head, fighting off the feeling of despair.

The young nurse walked away, not looking back.

“Can I accompany my mum when she is being transferred?” Owen asked. He had heard that her mother was being transferred to another hospital because she required some advanced treatment. The hospital didn’t have those advanced equipment.

“They can’t allow you. You are still young my dear.” she answered forthrightly.

Owen remained quiet, wondering what was going to happen if they transferred her mother to the National Referral Hospital. Was he going to remain in the house alone with the househelp? Could he manage to visit her whenever he wished? The National Hospital, popularly known as Kenyatta was located in Nairobi City, almost two hundred kilometers away from his home town.

How would he concentrate in class when his mother will be taken away from him? How were evenings going to be if his mum won’t be there? What if she took long at the hospital, and the time for his medical review arrived?

He was so deeply immersed into thoughts that he didn’t notice his grandmother walking towards him. His grandfather was right behind him, and none was talking to each other. He studied both, and didn’t like the sadness inscribed on the wrinkled face of both the grandparents. His grandfather had utterly concealed the military face he always wore. More wrinkles seemed to appear on his face. He was removing a cigarette from the packet, but his grand mum stopped him. There was a sign warning that no smoking should happen at the compound, warning of fine or imprisonment if caught.

“Grandma, is mum okay?”

He rose from the seat and started walking hastily but unsteadily towards the ward.

A doctor stopped him from entering the room where his mother was. He held him by his right hand. It is the Doctor who had attended to him and who was now attending to his mother. He was the cancer specialist; an aged but apparently soft and easy-going man. His hair was all gray.

“It is okay young man” He said, his left hand buried deep in the pockets of the white dust coat. The stethoscope was dangling on his shoulders.

“It is not okay Doctor. My mum is not okay. I want to stay with her. I am not going to leave her.” Owen blurted. “Please doctor, let me stay with her.”

Owen was sobbing.

He forced himself into the special ward where his mother lay. The Doctor remained at the door watching him. A nurse stood by the side of her mum, who seemed sound asleep, though her chest still making some movements. She was not dead.

“Mum…Mum.”

She weakly opened one of her eyes, and again tears dripped. She looked extremely weak. She could barely talk. She only managed to move her lips in an effort to say something but no word came out. The stream of tears continued to flow from her eyes, worsening his sobbing. She breathed deeply, wailing from inside.

Owen didn’t know what to do. He wished it was a dream.

“It is going to be okay,” the doctor, standing right behind him said. “It is going to be okay, Owen. You are Owen, do you remember me?” The Doctor’s memory of him only made things worse. Was he also to see the doctor?

He felt like the world was spinning, and for once, he supported himself with the bed. He was becoming weak.

“Mum.” he called her again.

She couldn’t respond. She moved her moist eyes in a weak gesture. Was she weeping because of pain?

A nurse held his hand and started pulling him out of the ward. He wanted to resist.

“We can’t examine your mother while you are here, okay?” the nurse said in a rather male harsh voice.

“I want to remain with my mother,” he shouted.

“You want us to remove your mum’s clothes as you watch eeh? We will call you please.”

His mother tried to lift her hand to gesture but she was very weak. Tears continued to drip down to the pillow. Owen noticed blood stains on the sheets that covered his mother.

Owen was being walked out of the ward, leaving the Doctor with her mother. He looked back, a sense of helplessness flowing in him. He stopped at the door, stared at his mother, letting the streams of tears down his cheeks. He noticed the blood stain on the bed sheets was spreading rapidly. Was his mother bleeding?

Her sullen eyes had followed him, and she weakly waved at him. The gap on her upper teeth unable to show the power of her usual smile. Her iris was submerged into a strangely white cornea, sparking white even from a distance. She weakly raised her hand, her elbow supported by the mattress. She waved slowly, sorrow clearly engraved on her emaciated face. Owen responded by waving back, his smile unable to stop his eyes from shedding more tears. The Doctor was waving too. This is continued until the door was closed by the ruthless nurse.

What was going to happen to his mother, he thought confusedly. Where was the stain on the bed sheets coming from?

He recalled that he had once noticed that at home but his mother ignored the issue when he asked her. She had been sick at that time, way before she underwent medical experiences that really changed her. It took some time before her usual body restored. Her mum played strong, and never ever wanted to show Owen like she was weak.

Painful thoughts overwhelmed him, and he felt weak.

He staggered to the pew directly opposite the ward and started to cry. His cries grew louder and he was unable to control it.

“Mum! Mum! Mum!” he shouted as he cried.