Thursday, April 2, 2009
Thursday, April 2, 2009
Casket For Gram par
A day that I don’t remember a mood that I won’t forget. Ten years old I was, when I returned to Morogoro, city of red sand to bury my dear Gram par that I never got enough time to know him well. I was there for a one months school vacation, living with my dearly Uncle Gilbert. Gram par was in the hospital and I didn’t know who bad he was, if only, if only I knew that he was on bed finishing his last few breaths, to be there is what I would wish. I remember uncle coming home form work, his eyes were red as if he was smoking, and he said to aunty that
“Dad is gone”.
I understood what he said, I wish I was more involved to be told what actually happened, if he said anything, how did he die. But I was viewed as a kid, I didn’t have to know the details, I just have to go with the flow. Night came and instead of watching TV together and playing games, Uncle was in his room, I was in the sitting room staring at the TV by myself. I went to check on him, I won’t forget the look of his face, he was crying, the first time I was him do that. He opened his arms and said
“Come Queen” his eyes were in tears and I was confused.
“Its ok, he wouldn’t want you to cry. He is in heaven right!” these was the speech that dried his deeply tears.
The night went by very slow; the house was quite, it wasn’t fun as it normally was. In the morning, I could hear the birds singing out on the tress, uncle got dressed to go to town. I begged to go with him and he responded yes. We walked about two minutes walk to the bus stop and on away to a busy town. We had breakfast in one of the local hotels; I had pancakes and light beef soup. The expression on his eyes was normal, I felt peaceful seeing him smiling with me.
“Time to hit the road?” he asked as I was finishing the last drip from the bowl of soup.
“Yes. Please…please carry me…I am stuffed” I begged him to carry me on his shoulders like he normally does when we walk home from church on Sundays.
He lifted me up with his arms both of them each one on the side of my arms just below my shoulders. We walked passing people doing different business, and some who couldn’t stop starring at how a strong man who could manage to walk with a chubby baby on his shoulders. The town was crowded with feet, some going north, west, south and those who went east like my uncle’s feet. Small business on the streets, women with their little kids on their laps selling fruit and pastries. Big strong man carrying sacks of maize and rice to their stores. Little kids who missed school, selling small school equipments on the streets. Their feet and that my Uncle’s all stepped on the same Powderly sand. We walked to this small open store that was close to a Catholic church. The store was like one big room full of long wooden well polished boxes. Some of them were finished made and they reflect the rays of sun. They look soft, well black polish on them and there was also those which weren’t completed, standing there waiting to be beautified.
“This one looks ok…how tall is it?” Uncle asked the sales man, while looking close to one of the pretty boxes.
“6 feet” the sales man responded.
Uncle stood there looking at the box with uncertainty on his face.
“How about this one, he is tall and skinny…and it’s pretty...right” I gave my opinion while touching a long black box with four silver handles two on both sides.
The sales man opened it up. It had a lot of cushions in it, a white pouffy pallor and white raises on the sides.
“You like that one?” he asked.
“Yes. It’s nice” I responded with a smile. I was glad that he considered my opinion.
“Please save this one for us, we will come to pick it up tomorrow, I will give you half of the price now and the rest tomorrow when I come to get it” Uncle said to a sales man. Then the deal was made, still I didn’t understand what I just did. I took my hand and held tight to that of Uncle’s and we stepped on a crowded road leading to the bus stop. I didn’t understand what the box for was until the second time that I saw my Gram par again and he was pale, lying in the box that I remember picking it few days ago. I saw that box going in the squared hole, and I was crying for them to take him out. Time had come for my mind to realize what was going on, I lost my Gram par, and I saw him in the casket that I have chosen. I saw them putting him in to where he would be lying forever. My long tears like rain didn’t stop them from filling that hole with dirt, but the same words that I spoke before made me move on and know that its was ok.
“Don’t cry because he wouldn’t like you to do so... He is in heaven” Uncle Gilbert cooled my broken heart.