In the Face of Loneliness
"What will my future be?", elderly Odupa whispered. With both her fingers locked behind her white crowned head, she gazed blankly at the horizontal graves that lined behind her mad walled hut. Two years ago, the answer came easily: with her two dark handsome sons, daughters-in-law, and seven grandchildren. But now, a dark cloud hanged over her twilight years. At age 75, there was nothing much to look forward to in life.

Like lightening, death had struck her entire family. All happened within a span of eight months. First it was Zebedo, Odupa’s second born son finally succumbing to Aids. Culture deeply entrenched in this lakeshore community, Opunga, the eldest son quickly inherited Zebedo’s wife, Nyanam. The preaching against wife inheritance had not sunk home here. Local leaders had been called upon to sensitize the citizens on cultural practices likely to fuel the disease. Wife inheritance had been singled out. Culture dies hard!
Then the chain accelerated. Nyanam died two months later followed by Opunga. And on the night before she had her last breathe, Nyamalo, Opunga’s middle aged widow intoxicated the evening meal for her four children. There were all found dead the next morning. Three weeks later, Zebedo’s three orphaned children died in a mysteries night house fire. So unlike yesterday, today the answer is not easy for Odupa.The future looks more uncertain. Loneliness stares her in the face. However, she is not in this journey alone. Within her village the impacts of Aids are getting more pronounced by day. "I am so afraid of what the future has in store for these orphans. If I were to die and leave them, who would look after them?" asks Omawa, a 70 year old woman caring for her 5 grandchildren.

What was a while ago normal had now become impossible. Odupa could not tell what day it was. All days had become the same. Sorrowful and lonely. There was no longer anything to wait for as the African sun went down. Not even the hens and pet cat that she kept. All the hens were eaten during the burial ceremonies at her homestead. A drunkard had hit to death the brown pet cat at the last mass burial. Her homestead was slowly being engulf in a bush as grass completed in height with the shrubs. No visitors walked into the Odupa’s homestead anymore. The shortcut route to the local market through the homestead was now being avoided like a plaque.

Everything had became complicated, here. Was is Odupa’s fault? She grew frail and everything she tried to hold fell. Her grips lacked the yesteryears firmness. When she pulled herself to prepare a meal, in most cases it got burnt. Her sense of smell was failing too. Daily she hoped that a good Samaritan might pass-by to help fetch water from the well.

Domestic chores aside, what troubled grandma Odupa most was the fact that nobody, for days, weeks, said her name. If there was no-one who utters your name you can have all, but it is like if you can’t breathe. Will she end up forgetting it too?
Odupa must react. What can she do? She needs a friend. A faithful friend. Yes. If you are looking for a friend, contact Odupa. She has time, you will not disturb her. She must be interested in what is happening in the world, may be on the ‘war’ against Aids or an update on the Iraq situation. Odupa would surely love to listen to your stories, just to speak to you. To kill loneliness before it wrestle’s her to the grave.

In the Face of Loneliness
"What will my future be?", elderly Odupa whispered. With both her fingers locked behind her white crowned head, she gazed blankly at the horizontal graves that lined behind her mad walled hut. Two years ago, the answer came easily: with her two dark handsome sons, daughters-in-law, and seven grandchildren. But now, a dark cloud hanged over her twilight years. At age 75, there was nothing much to look forward to in life.

Like lightening, death had struck her entire family. All happened within a span of eight months. First it was Zebedo, Odupa’s second born son finally succumbing to Aids. Culture deeply entrenched in this lakeshore community, Opunga, the eldest son quickly inherited Zebedo’s wife, Nyanam. The preaching against wife inheritance had not sunk home here. Local leaders had been called upon to sensitize the citizens on cultural practices likely to fuel the disease. Wife inheritance had been singled out. Culture dies hard!
Then the chain accelerated. Nyanam died two months later followed by Opunga. And on the night before she had her last breathe, Nyamalo, Opunga’s middle aged widow intoxicated the evening meal for her four children. There were all found dead the next morning. Three weeks later, Zebedo’s three orphaned children died in a mysteries night house fire. So unlike yesterday, today the answer is not easy for Odupa.The future looks more uncertain. Loneliness stares her in the face. However, she is not in this journey alone. Within her village the impacts of Aids are getting more pronounced by day. "I am so afraid of what the future has in store for these orphans. If I were to die and leave them, who would look after them?" asks Omawa, a 70 year old woman caring for her 5 grandchildren.

What was a while ago normal had now become impossible. Odupa could not tell what day it was. All days had become the same. Sorrowful and lonely. There was no longer anything to wait for as the African sun went down. Not even the hens and pet cat that she kept. All the hens were eaten during the burial ceremonies at her homestead. A drunkard had hit to death the brown pet cat at the last mass burial. Her homestead was slowly being engulf in a bush as grass completed in height with the shrubs. No visitors walked into the Odupa’s homestead anymore. The shortcut route to the local market through the homestead was now being avoided like a plaque.

Everything had became complicated, here. Was is Odupa’s fault? She grew frail and everything she tried to hold fell. Her grips lacked the yesteryears firmness. When she pulled herself to prepare a meal, in most cases it got burnt. Her sense of smell was failing too. Daily she hoped that a good Samaritan might pass-by to help fetch water from the well.

Domestic chores aside, what troubled grandma Odupa most was the fact that nobody, for days, weeks, said her name. If there was no-one who utters your name you can have all, but it is like if you can’t breathe. Will she end up forgetting it too?
Odupa must react. What can she do? She needs a friend. A faithful friend. Yes. If you are looking for a friend, contact Odupa. She has time, you will not disturb her. She must be interested in what is happening in the world, may be on the ‘war’ against Aids or an update on the Iraq situation. Odupa would surely love to listen to your stories, just to speak to you. To kill loneliness before it wrestle’s her to the grave.

Mum's Flower: Out of the Cage
Her childhood and youth had been heavenly. She was the baby girl of a five members Kenyan household. Her parents, the Karanjas’ were of considerable means. Their actions towards her said all. Liz was pampered and petted. All her needs were catered for. She was her mother’s flower, tendered religiously. She had come of age and was becoming a black beauty queen by day. Where were the model scouts?
My SongMy Song
Liz had never left the country once in her 21 years, though every Christmas their family travelled down the Kenyan Coast. So a chance for university studies in Europe was, understandably, very exciting for her. It had been beyond her wildest dreams. Her other siblings went to a local private university.
This opportunity herald a major turning point in her life. A life of freedom. Yes, a life away from the hawk eye of her parents. Henceforth, Liz would have to make own decisions. The transition also presented a moment to experience and enjoy her youthful years. Till now, she had been guarded from the neighbourhood boys who hovered around their modest home in upper-class Nairobi suburb, attracted by her radiating beauty.
At Jomo Kenyatta International Airport, on the night of her departure, they were locked in a long embrace, mother and daughter. Nearby, father and two siblings watched and then…..‘Darling, have a safe flight…. and remember to communicate as soon as you arrive’, Liz mum said to her wearing a white contagious smile. She waved at her family and headed to board the plane, to fly into her world of independence.
Too much of parents control and restriction may be dangerous. The 2004 Europe winter welcomed Liz. She had never before experienced such low temperatures. But in the freezing cold, her beauty glowed the more. Italian men knocked on themselves and onto parked cars whenever Liz passed by. She was a magnet. And being a person concerned with looks, she got more keen with her dressing and make-up. Liz would wake up early just to make-up for the men who were driving her crazy. Mum’s flower was blooming beautifully. But would it survive the winter that repelled sunlight?
Men will always be men. They enjoy the chase game. Italian men competed after Liz, outdoing each other in their chase. Liz was a feather to every wind that blew. Soon, she was swept off her feet by one Italian man after another. The Albanese and African immigrants also joined in the chase. They were unfortunate. The Italians were smart. Liz changed them like clothes. Meanwhile, her education suffered. She placed more efforts in appealing to the men in her life at the expense of her studies. Misplaced priorities.

As men spent their fortunes to have her, natural life processes and time ganged up against Liz. Who was the victor? Gifts to be appreciated in kind, in pleasure piled her room. With the biting winter cold nights, the men were handy in providing Liz with warmth. No wonder she had a chain of them! Each had his day. Indeed, every action has an equal opposite reaction. With time her body shape was no longer attractive to men. No more men raced after her. It was like the world had swallowed them all. Liz was left by the traffic lights carrying a load within her self that would take nine months to offload. Mum’s flower had withered in rainy spring.

Alone, deserted by her charming Princes, Liz sought a bearing to sort the rest of her life. What would she do? How would her parents react?