Safe here. 7.7. 2016.
As the children played games such as tapo kakebe, blaada, kasonko, hide and seek and many others, I watched. The sounds of their voices resonating in my brain as they gleefully run off to find the perfect hiding spot; a tree, house…
I remember smiling and laughing as I watched the girls playing kwepena (dodge ball). Dresses folded so high that the panty showed wen they jumped and threw their legs apart in an attempt to dodge the ball; kwawuza we called it. That week after returning from the clinic, I could not quite comprehend why my left limb felt numb with abrupt interludes of pain. The foot drop only looked hopeless.
I found a playmate in my new playground. He doesn’t move much. He allows me to climb onto his back. With his 2 wheels on the ground, I do not have to be afraid of stepping on tiny rocks in the shared compound at home. I ride within the four walls with medical diagrams and adverts on the walls as my destination.
My mind keeps me paddling. Memories from scenes of the children playing in the compound keep me moving. I ride as though I’m in a race with Denis or martin or any other child riding but yet I’m still here.