My suicide note

Growing up, we knew the solutions to life challenges were in parents, mum had solutions to all the bullies out in the play field. We’d always run back to them when we couldn’t face these ‘stronger’ beings out there. Dad had solutions to everything we needed that we couldn’t have. He held the keys to all permissions, and all matters financial. We even hoped he would get us a jet when we thought we needed one, forget the fact that he couldn’t afford a jalopy. But I hoped and believed that all my problems had capable people to take care of them.

When we moved a notch higher, the teacher had solutions to all life problems. Finding that ‘x’ in a math problem would be trouble, but I always stood, watched and marveled as the teacher went about finding the solution to it. It always looked like ‘abracadabra’ and it still does to date. I have never been a numbers person, if anything I have a phobia for numbers. But somehow the teacher had a solution and temporarily made me understand, even if just till after I had sat my exams even when it was that complex mole concept.

At some point I thought education would be a solution to everything, and I worked hard to ensure I achieved that which I thought was the panacea to life problems. The perception that all hardships would drift away with the attainment of education, that a career would bring satisfaction and money in turn would bring joy. And I sat through school, not the best in class but among the top cream through all stages. God even gave me a job on the very day I sat my last undergraduate exams, just to make sure I don’t experience the tarmacking phase. And a great career it has been that has grown steadily in the last three and a half years.

I know this will sound suicidal, crazy, insane, the best of my friends will say I have lost it, and trust me these are friends who have my best interests at heart, the ones I will not part ways with even when we owe each other millions. But time has come for me to kill life, to kill pleasure, commit the gravest mistake according to earthly standards and start a ‘boring’ journey with Him. Turn to the parent of all parents, the teacher of all teachers, in a stage called re-evaluation, because all other solutions have proved to be blank stares at the roof when you have nothing to write on the exam sheet.

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A little bit of heaven, God spoke to me

I wouldn’t pass for spiritual, religious maybe, and even that is slowly fading considering the number of light years in terms of Sundays that have gone past without me walking into God’s house. If anything I look at the past week, focus on the week ahead, calculate the number of sleep hours lost and yet to be missed and decide to cover for all that with a Sunday spent in bed. Even with that my Christian background, as many of us would like to call the families in which as children we were always forced to attend church, could not let a message from God pass me by.

Life isn’t easy and whoever tells you that is just but lying to you, that’s my opinion though. I would to some extent agree with “Life is what you make it” but what of when you try making the best and it stills drags you. Point in case I will talk of them who would like to walk from the office in Westlands to the house in South C then life slaps you with a three legged walking style. It goes with all the enthusiasm you had, messes with your exercise program and hence makes you unhealthy and not to mention the much it affects your budget by forcing you to use public transport for distances you would have used number 11.

The guy above   is me, but definitely I wouldn’t want to walk all that way, I know I have an expensive, strong enough, good scented deodorant but still, original leather shoes weren’t meant to be subjected to that. This week saw me drag my poor body from one consultation room in the hospital to the other in pursuit of pain relieving treatment to no avail. I sit here typing yet I can’t feel my feet down there, I thank God through that the numbness on my fingers would let me type this. I left the last room in the hospital quite disappointed yesterday. Having spent more than enough money on tests that seemed to turn my body inside out and still got that lab report that reads “Everything looks normal” I thought there is more to the limp than could be seen and so I cared not for any medication and walked back home.

I sat and reflected upon life the whole afternoon, wallowing in miasma of despair, trying to figure out what these close to two years of strange limps would be indicating. At some point I thought a movie I watched not a long while ago “A Little Bit of Heaven” had been in preparation of all this. But seriously, who limps when all is normal? It is either in Kenya what we call doctors are car mechanics or I am the best actor in feigning sickness.

Later in the night my radio that never leaves the Capital FM dial happened to hop to Hope FM (you saw what I did there, no?) and amazingly the preacher at that moment must have been speaking to me. The word from Luke 22:31-32 and the subsequent sermon were just for me. Her explanation on how the much we go through isn’t meant to destroy us but to make us stronger and better so that others may learn from our trials uplifted me (I hear the spiritual ones use that word) and for a moment I figured out this was my turn around point. I knew it was God speaking to me when she talked about the much one’s health may torture them but all for the glory of God. And this saw me wake up a bit enthusiastic about everything today and braved all pains in me to crutch to the office.

It matters not neither the number of Tusker bottles you’ve gobbled since birth, nor the number of Gin shots you have swallowed trying to be one of them; I think God had a word for me on Hope FM on that night. Despite the bit of heaven I had been to already and the journey I had started to the crematorium, I want to believe that all this is sifting taking place and with a smile I walk knowing that Jesus prays for me that my faith may not fail.