I hate opening my mouth wide unless I’m yawning. Nothing beats a good 11 o’ clock yawn….probably a 2pm yawn. That unprecedented one which comes after a full mouth stuffing and becks for a siesta.
I’m by the window marveling at Rongai town- a beauty in the rain and stars. During the day, it’s pretty much a helter-skelter of fruit vendors and smokie pasuas (smokies with stuffings).
The sun is a little bit dimmed out by the occasional shift of the cumulus clouds. Knowing Rongai, most people outside are armed with heavy jackets and umbrellas.
The kids are out for lunch and their uniform displays a mismatch of all sorts. Each time I see a school uniform I’m drawn back to ‘Hallo Children’- the bible of preschool.
Staring four storeys down tends to make me slightly ‘suicidal’. The rush that I get from being so close yet so far from danger is intoxicating.
The what-ifs start flooding my mind, the mantras my guru has been teaching me about levitation and my childish beliefs of being one of the power puff girls, bubbles but with buttercup attitude. Kanye would definitely be friends with Buttercup- Blossom is too Beyoncé for him.
The room is ice-cold, I didn’t figure this is what hell would be like. There are two other people- a mother and her son. The mother sits precariously on the edge of the seat and her son, next to her stares at the clock.
He must be expecting something grand or probably doesn’t know how to read the clock. I was about 11 when I stopped checking my Casio watch for time and actually started reading the clock.
I had an odd feeling that somebody is watching me, taking in the world for themselves through my eyes. Getting deeper and deeper through my breathing, my poise and my sudden switch in expression.
The mother. Doesn’t she know its rude to stare, does her son? Her whole lineage will be full of gazers, unwarranted. I thought to myself. I’ve probably broken my anxiety scale.
I benignly switch from the windows and look directly at her. I stared at her shoes whenever her eyes met mine. A psychology hack I was taught by a friend.
I love intellectuals! Where would I be without a decent conversation and a cup of spiked hot coffee? She immediately notices my attention paradigm and starts wiping her shoes while checking the sole.
A nurse with a full-on Vera standing about 5’5 walks behind the service desk.
“Mama Bobo niliwaambia mnaingia saa ngapi?” (What is your time allocation?)
She asks in a rather deep voice, I could have bet all my good teeth it wasn’t her speaking. Her hands were veined and calloused like those in the mines. She must be the Kenyan version of a tooth fairy.
‘When the big hand is at 2,” Bobo replies with certain ingenuity.
The smile he bears says a lot about his life’s biggest life hack. He must be one of the smart ones in Primary school but would suffer the scourge once he hits high school.
The nurse shifts to my shoes and then examines my whole body severely and tops it off with my hair (when I prayed to God about taking all the fake things from my life, He was far too kind).
I didn’t quite understand her reflex action. But I’m not genetically predisposed to take in other people’s scrutiny. So I flipped the right side of my partition and gave her that Michelle Obama’s smile.
I could have easily given her a Tanasha Donna but God told me to be good this year (check on me in March if I’d be holding down my vices)
Her coral lips left much to be desired but so did my molars. I wouldn’t be sitting amidst terrorists if it wasn’t for cold sodas and éclairs. Nurse Judy hands over a form filled with questions about STD and my mother’s maiden name.
I placed the pen where it felt comfortable at the time and crossed off all the ‘yes’. According to that medical form, this is my second coming.
The doctor walks right past us and checks on the deck of papers lying on the reception. He looks up pulling his glasses down and greets us in a jolly good voice.
He has nappy Einstein hair, his glasses cut through the sides that when he removes them the partition remains.He is fair-skinned, not outright but as you draw near you realize his not particularly as dark.
His duality is not only in appearance but also in character and knowledge. He doesn’t have a striking face so you would probably miss him at the train station. But his bubbly personality is a complete spectacle and his long talks about life will keep the wax out of your ears.
His extroverted personality shinning more than his neat teeth. Heck! If my teeth had their shit all the way together like that, I would probably be on a billboard. DO people still look at billboards? Or I’d possibly be a Kalenjin.
In my bid to acquire unrelenting peace and tranquility, I’m in a room filled with large needles and equipment that doesn’t tickle my fancy. He looks at me again and leaves for the working area.
What a strange hospital! I thought to myself. My phone rang just in time for me to get some air. The cavities were slowly spreading to my brain.
A few moments later I walk back into an empty reception filled with a cold breeze and finality. The fat woman was singing literally. Mama Bobo came out with her jaw swollen and wallowing in pain. It must be a root canal.
This makes my thighs slither and my brows to furrow. I might have the historical advantage of taking big needles but in my mouth was too big of an ask.
I didn’t need a filling, I needed a fentanyl patch. I startled when the nurse signaled me to enter, battling screens in my head.
Nurse Judy stops me mid thoughts and alarms me of the disappearance of my form. This was definitely a sign from God. I told her I can come another day, there was absolutely no rush.
She must have realized my fragile aptitude and led me inside the working station. I secured myself on the seat and started reading Becoming- Michelle can literally talk you through labor. She is like Oprah but with a Kenyan touch (literally).
Dr. MT reaches for my phone and checks it before lying on the table.
“What are you reading?”
“Becoming by Michelle Obama” I could sense his cluelessness from the convertible chair but I brushed it off quickly by adding my go-to filler words “it is interesting”
“Do you know she didn’t write that book?” he asks with the tone Kaligraph used on Betty.
“Very well aware, most of these icons are nothing short of ghostwriters and PR managers -a bunch of cogs to make the wheel turn I would say”
“Yes exactly, this world people have refused to think, making money is so easy! You don’t need to spend countless hours figuring out the next big thing, simply pay someone!” he finishes prompting a discussion.
I take bait while staring at the ceiling, occasionally exchanging glances for interpersonal reasons. Nurse Judy continues the search for my documents meanwhile. I should have probably called her Dora, the Explorer.
“We are all interconnected in this world; it’s quite easy to make money but not quite simple when it comes to making a connection”
He purses his lips and adjusts his spectacles- a common signal for ‘I read you wrong young slay queen’. I hate that phrase but not nearly as much as the people who put me in that bracket. The wig doesn’t fit!!
Have you heard of the star of David, the tree of life, Kaballah, alchemy and the seven chakras…..”
I nod as he goes down his list.
“The whole world is about sexuality, everything you see is about a man and a woman. In the verse whereby God created man, he breathed into him and said you are now in my image. He then took a rib and made a woman. That simply means that when a man and his woman (the one) are united, they are God”.
“Breath is us if God didn’t breath into man; we would simply remain clay and would be nothing. So when I see you, I don’t see tribe, I don’t see your physical attributes, I just view you as spirit”.
He goes on to draw the tree of life on a receipt, doubtless belonging to the previous patient. I watch on as he draws circle after circle trying not to discombobulate myself with the mastery.
“We have almost the same belief, only that I believe people are just energies. They cannot be destroyed or created but can manifest differently. If your chakra is out of balance, your whole vibe is off and when it is balanced, you vibrate positivity”.
He does the classic ‘forefinger on lips with a hard stare’ at the ceiling as I proceed.
“I don’t disagree with the Bible at all; simply some of the interpretations people have about it. I don’t believe ‘man must find his woman’. I believe once you are in tune with God who is the universe then you are complete, not perfect but complete”.
He draws the star of David ( 1 triangle and another inverted) then goes on to draw Ying Yan. Dora the Explorer walks in talking of the missing files and her frustrations. Dr. MT who is in too deep in the spiritual talk barely hears her mumble. He is probably astral projecting.
“You see, there is duality in everything we see, feel, touch and are. There isn’t just one plain existence. You must have a double intake in everything in life. The good, the bad. The Haves and the Have-nots. The rich and the poor”.
I look at Dora waiting for the doctor to give her further instructions but he still stalls so I give out my 2 cents hoping it will be a dime.
“Don’t you think these are all perspectives people made up so as to feel superior to others. Some form of projection due to our need to be validated, belong or even control. Energy cannot be bad or good. Energy doesn’t know evil. I don’t believe there is duality. There is just one unilateral God,period”.
“Allow me to show you something and please don’t be scared”. The first time I walked into the waiting room I didn’t do what I had intended. I saw you and immediately came to write something, it is better I show you than explain. I keep a notebook within reach”.
He flips the pages, handwriting matches the intellect.
“Energy can neither be good or bad”