Everybody talks about the before and the after; How it was then and how much things changed since Covid.
My story starts way before.
Unlike most, I have always worked from home, which many assume is nothing but sleeping and chilling at home doing nothing but binging on Netflix murder mystery films.
As much as neighborhood kids adore me and scream my name and want a hug or sweets or tell me about how daddy came home last night drunk and disorderly, I had to build my walls up and make clear, ‘you can’t come knocking at my door whenever you get bored.’
So, when I heard a sort of uncivilized feathery knock at my door around 5:30 in the evening, I knew it had to be one of them. Sneaked a peak through the window and when I couldn’t see anyone, I definitely knew the knocker was a short one. I ignored and got back to work.
Over an hour later I hear the weak sirens of an ambulance that stopped by our main gate. Our landlady ran a wellness clinic so I obviously assumed it had a thing to do with a patient of hers.
It wasn’t until later, way much later, way past daylight and deep into the darkness that I left the house for the shop across the road to buy some groceries that I overheard the whisperings. One of my so called little friends had had an incident at the public playground.
Though possessing a much older physique, in my mind he still was the tiny 9 year old I had met when I first moved in and just like his mates, pretended to like helping me with my luggage up the stairs of which I would thank them with ‘tamus’.
Now, at 14, he had already broken voice and was as tall and burly as the many husbands of our flat.
The kids had been playing football at a nearby public field when allegations were raised and tempers put to test leading to a brawl. The smaller kids managed to run back home for safety while the 14 year old, who was the target, got cornered and later escaped with several bruises and a bad headache.
He went back home, rested on the coach, and never woke up.
Reliable gossip from mourners sat at the back of the tent during the funeral alleged that he and his older brother were members of a gang famous for pickpocketing and snatching phones from pedestrians. The kid had been lynched!
Speakers at funeral had it different. He was an outstanding little boy. Very obedient, hardworking, loving, prayerful, kind, fun to be around…he was the perfect son, brother and friend. They called upon the local authorities to leave no stones unturned in finding the people responsible for his death and appropriate action taken.
I would steal glances at the grieving mother and as much as I was sure she knew what was up, I couldn’t help feeling her pain. All these ‘supporters’ whispering and pointing fingers, and her definite fear that maybe, she would soon be burying the older son.
I have been to a couple of funerals and they are all the same. Nothing really changes. Every villain becomes a hero at death.
I don’t ever want that for myself. And you know what else I don’t want?
I don’t want those shallow obituaries everyone copy-pastes and changes the names and dates of birth. She. Born In. Died In. Married To. Survived By. Sibling To. Worked At. Auntie To. Why on earth does anyone care that my brother is in USA or my sister is a former employee of KNH? On that note, I think I’ll get started writing my obituary.
The bereaved don’t even give a beautiful eulogy recounting the beautiful, or so not beautiful memories they shared with the dead. Nah. That too has been copy-pasted in over 10,000 booklets. If you must say something about me, piece down something special that has never been heard of before, and could possibly get people holding back tears or asking for some tissue.
My funeral shouldn’t be a reunion. Doesn’t matter if it’s family, school or work colleagues. If we haven’t been in touch in life, my funeral isn’t the event to pretend we were when your true intentions is to link up with old flames and relatives that can buy you a bottle of beer or promise to get you a better paying job.
For heaven’s sake don’t print out my portrait on t-shirts! Do people even ever re-ware those shirts? It must be haunting, like bridesmaid dresses right? I think a beautiful Quote would be perfect though, if it’s a must…like, Though Shalt Not Crumble. You got to listen to the song right here to know what I'm talking about.
Please, no fundraising committees. I don’t care how cheap the coffin I rest in is. I’ve planted enough trees in my lifetime so you may as well chop and make me one. No new clothes too. I think all I need is a dera from my closet. Do I need shoes? Well, maybe socks. I’ve insecurity issues with by long thin corny toes. I have set aside just enough to take care of the basics and I trust there are a few wo/men who would offer their last respects without the need to poke into your pockets.
Please, don’t lie. Don’t lie to people about what killed me. Family history is so important. There is no such as a thing like long illness (cancer) or short illness (pneumonia). Did I have a mental breakdown? People got to know cos’ I don’t want others ending up the same way. Was it murder? By no way is that suspect allowed to be present.
I absolutely do not think y’all need to eat. I thought about it one time when I was so hungry and had to retrieve dried ugali crumbs from the dustbin and take them down with water from the toilet cistern, yet, no one came to my aid. So, if you must eat, carry your own damn food.
I don’t want flowers. A flower free funeral is all I want. Because while I am alive, no one has ever bought me flowers. All the beautiful eucalyptus you find in my house, I buy for myself.
No live streams. No selfies. No group photos. If we've never taken a photo together, you don’t need one now.
Absolutely no politician. I don’t care how, where, when or what caused my death, no political figure no matter how small or big should give a speech.
Anyone, regardless of their denomination, can lead this final service. For as long as they are after God’s choosing, I’m good with it. This is in case churches want to fight over me or none wants me.
I 100% want to be buried. Previously I was all for cremation but after seeing what greed can do, the body need to there – for autopsy, just in case, and burial, in case a further autopsy is needed.
And, no drama about where to be buried. I’ll be home, happy and rested in the land where I toiled, sweated and made a home.
Lastly, how about putting up a nice bench on the top of the grave so you can relax when you come visit me. Promise not to haunt. It’s either that or planting a nice beautiful tree, ideally a baby blue eucalyptus. That’s my Will.
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