DARK, SILENT, AND PEACEFUL

By Brian Nzomo

The world around me is a quilt of dense darkness. It has been that way for a week now, and am still maimed by disbelief.

‘It cannot be,’ it rings in my mind. ‘This is a nightmare. Wake me up, for this is a bloody nightmare.’

A cold palm is firmly placed on my forehead. In the distant darkness, a husky, somewhat imperious voice blares. I can barely understand what is happening, but I am calm. Unmoved. Even as he wiggles me violently like the stem of a fruitful tree.

“…in the mighty name of Jesus…For in his stripes, we are healed, and in his blood we expunge all our afflictions…”

There are other subtler voices in my darkness. Chanting “Yes!” “Manifest Jehovah”… I recognize them. I can see their images in my mind, but I can no longer see them. My mother and my sister.

“…We command the fires of heaven, gleaned from your throne almighty gaad!… Descend Oh Lord! …Consume the principalities that have attacked your mighty servant Oh Lord… For none who walked, walks and will walk in this world is greater than thee Lord…”

The world…

How beautiful and ugly it was to my sight. It always was, until that night. I don’t know what happened, what I did wrong to deserve this. It was the eve of my graduation. Four years of lament and strife could finally bear fruit. My gown was neatly packed at the chair beside my bed. And I had just called my mother and sister, an elated pair who could not wait for the day to break.

I spent ten minutes gazing at the ceiling. Life would not be the same again. Born into poverty, pervading through the triumvirate of Kenya’s jagged education system was a victory. A reputable company had promised me employment after officially parking out of the university. What more awaited me? Surely, said I, my tribulations were thinning away. My eyes grew weary and fizzled out into slumber. The ceiling was the last moment of light. For when I woke up the following morning, I was enshrouded in darkness.

It took me five minutes to reckon with the fact that I was blind. But it would take me a billion years to dissever myself from this bad dream. I sobbed the whole day, and missed the graduation. It did not matter. I just wanted my eyes.

My mother was distraught with grief. My sister was silent. I never heard her talk ever since. But I could feel her supple arms wrapped around me at the hospital bed. The doctor had said he had no idea what happened for there was nothing medically obverse with me. And here we are now. A pastor. A useless one I must add. For after his relentless theatrics, and superficial word of encouragement, it was still dark.

Ostensibly, I would never see again. Why should I be grateful that I still have my life? What good is it if I can’t decipher it using sight. What good are my legs if I can’t even see where am going?

“Somebody just kill me!” I shouted to the darkness around me when the pastor had gone.

“No! No!” My sister cried. “You still have us!”

“But I have no eyes!” I blurted out angrily. I quivered.

“I understand how you must feel my son!” My mother’s voice cracked. It was unusually frail and its timbre muffled. “But think about what the pastor said. Be thankful for…”

“For not seeing!” I whimpered. ” The three of you cannot imagine how tiring it is to live in a dark world. Only hearing voices. Only living with the distinct images of the past. It’s like am asleep for eternity!”

She did not say a word. She began crying. I felt terrible. Why was I blaming her? She was not responsible for my blindness! I wanted to utter an apology but I was weak.

“If you only knew son!” She cried. “My nights are sorrowful. I pray tirelessly to understand why this had to happen to you at this time…I pray…I never cease praying…”

“I am…sorry…” I wanted to cry. But my lachrymal wells were empty. I had exhausted all my tears on the day I lost my eyes. What jutted out of my heart at the moment was confusion. Incredulity.

“It’s time to rest. Come!” My sister lifted me from the chair. She led me to my bed. I could not resist. I was not tired, but what else could a blind man do? It was only ordinary I partake to the transient blindness enjoyed by men with sight. Only that mine made no difference.

But I slept anyway. Ever since I became blind. My imagination soared. I dreamt a lot. About the past. About things I would never do again. Like working in an office and getting married. But dreams are a limitless sea of opportunity. In them, I had a family. A beautiful one. Promotions at work, friends who revered me… Paradise!

When I woke up that evening, it was all silent. And dark ofcourse. I tried to speak, but I could not hear my voice. I am sure I moved my mouth. But… that’s all.

There was a hand touching me. I tried to speak. But I could not hear my voice. It was a moment of unspeakable silence. More hands. My sister and my mother definitely. But why weren’t they saying a word?

“Please! Mother! Siz! Say something, I beg you!” I screamed. Well, my mind screamed. But I could only feel their frantic hands touch my face and my arms. The world was impermeably silent and dark. Serenely peaceful…