“Son don't cry for me, I have lived my dream”, the old mzee said amidst light smiles to his son. “Dad, I cry for the future, the clouds have gathered, mulling together for a fight, they are ready to consume me (sobs)”, the son replied. “Don't worry young man, the Lord of Shadrack, Meshack and Adednego is alive, listening to your troubles”Mzee reinforced. “But how? How dad? Its crushing me” the young man retorted. Just like a dream so real, a pain so fresh, Mzee succumbed to Cancer.
Many a times we have our dreams, but to this young boy, at his tender age, just 12 years old, he has had to live in frustrations, navigating between the garbage dumpsites and deserted cavings for shelter.Until the death of his fatther, this young boy exhibited exelent accedemic progress, he was always among the top best three in his local primary school. The story of this young man touched me to share with you, maybe you can sympathize, at times you can empathize and most fondly, you can help, to help with the little you have, to light a future, to bring the young mans dreams to reality.You help will be prayers, it will count to his future.
There he walks at a distance, feebling and hungry, with tattred clothes and grim face in sunken chuckles, his eyes portrays a messsage of hopelessness, betrayal and self denial. Betrayal from a society his father served, betrayal from apeople his father helped till his sunset days, betrayal from his teachers and colleague students. Betrayal from his teachers pinch him, hurts him and has left a vaccum of wound, despite his ability, academic potential, his teachets have shun him like plague, no one is willing to help, no one is willing to listen, but I offer the solace.
Ouch, he stumbles on a sharp object,blood is oozing from his right toe.”Hey boy, I will be of help, just relax”, I whisper into his ear. He wriths in pain, sitted by the trenches, looking mysteriously at the eyes of this stranger who is ready to help.
A siren so loud rents the air, downtown the road is cleared.I think fire has broken loose somewhere or maybe a life is in danger. The sound is now clear, I can see the governors motorcade, cruising through the busy market.The young boy looks, he can only afford to hold his chin by his two hands and sob, painful tears streaming through from his cheecks.”Ooh Dad, you went so soon, I miss you”, the boy broke into tears.
It touched me, it pained me, my eyes grew wet, my heart was a clout of pain, mixed feelings and dissapointment of our failed leadership, my county government and its entire management.The Governors fuel guzzlers stear through.
“Helo sir, will you mind assisting me with your aid kid to help this young boy”, I asked a relaxed matatu driver on his Nissan.” sure ,you can have it, what has happen to him? I can see some blood” he asked. “Well, he has been priked by a metal, you know the garbage collection system in the town is poor, everything flows and seeps into our roads” I explained. “Youll have to excuse me, let me help him out, a minute and I will return it back”. You know sometimes these drivers and conductors can be good and welcoming, but at times, only God knows.
I vividly recall my scouting skills, especially when it came to first aid. I quickly got to the boy, cleaned his wound and dressed him. In few minutes time he was up. But I could not leave him, he had a tale to tell, a sad story to narrate and pain so pricking to share. “You know, am very much greatfull, thanks stranger, your different from apeople of your ilk, they treat us like dogs”he said. I felt pain in his opening remark, the young man was so fluent, coherent and eloquent in his speech.He expressed himself openly and with much ease, but there was something to that, his speech was sandwitched with pain and suffrering.
“I dream about going back to school, I desire to clear my studies and be a doctor, atleast if I were back then, I would have saved my dad. He died a bitter-yet smilling man, his face was laways in pain, I saw it. I have my books and report hidden under some rock near where I sleep in town, beside that huge dumpsite (pointing at the town largest dumpsite). My dad told me my mother died when she was giving birth to me, may the good Lord rest her soul in peace....” he again broke into tears.His story thrilled me, it drew my attention at this point, I felt in his shoes, same condition, same environment, much pain.
“Our relatives came for dads burial, but when they were leaving, they ensured they left with everything, they threw me out of the house and locked the door. No one bothered nor cared about me. I was the only child, the first and the last born. This was all fate had for me!”the young man narrated. All this time, he has been hardening his face, keeping it manly but I could see, pain and tears were overwhelming him.
“Stranger, can I take you where I live?” the boy asked me. “sure?”,i said to him. He hold tight my hands, curling to his frustrations.
My conversation with him revealed more, an insight into his life. He puts on rags, lives in a cave, eats from the bin! All these are not his liking, its nature, he is a victim of cirmcumstance, I believe its a situation he is in. Through you, light will shine his way. Read and share his story, a story of a determined young man.
Life can at times be shaking, sad and horrific. The young man asks for your help to finish his studies, to have a future once more to see light shine to his now dark academic life.
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