Judging from the far we had come I didn’t expect any less from them except the fact that I was always the outcast. We were brothers, pant brothers and by that I mean we were raised by the same woman, Mum. Mum doesn’t always mean mother, growing up I would come to figure out so much, but we were family, right? Apart from the fact that I was the ‘vertically challenged’ member of the family, my nose a little pointy like the Tutsis, secret family meetings, conversations behind closed doors I became curious; everything just didn’t add up but of course, no one would share with me because I was the ‘black sheep’ of the family.
Who am I? Did I belong here and if I did why were we so different? These questions would always ring through my head. One day I decided to go for a quest to find out who I was. I needed a plan, I knew I could trust nobody. My instincts told me that something was amiss and I needed to know and so I waited, one, two, ….. eighteen years and now a bird had to get out of its cage. Going back to my roots gave me so much nostalgia, the problem was there was nothing but unkempt lawns, many graveyards, overgrown grass, cobwebs, the sound of crickets everywhere and most unfortunately, NO FAMILY.
Most people in my village were farmers, tea farmers precisely. As I walked to the village ‘Soko’ (market), eyes were all over me and I mean deep stares, I was confused. Then I overheard a woman speak in the local dialect, “na uyu ahaana Mureithi wa nyumba ya Mweri muno, ni uhoro wa kieha muno uguo kuraathiire” meaning I looked like people from mweri’s family, and something bad had happened to my family. Sold out?how?where?by whom? What was the news?
Pay close attention because this story might change your life’s perspective towards everything you solely believe in, and we are very quick in forgetting important stories in the news today, “Father murders family, boyfriend stabs girlfriend, wife poisons husband, suicide, manslaughter, young girls raped by family members and unfortunately this is the generation we are living in. You have big dreams to change the world but who can you trust, your pastor?? who prayed for your barren wife and nine months down the line ‘GOD’ blessed you with a child who looks exactly like your pastor. What has the world turned to and who are we turning to?
We are family till the end, loyalty, right? but when my grandfather’s wealth was at stake that was the end of my parents’ journey; they plotted to kill the old man and blamed it on the drunk uncle, and where then was my ‘mother’? why would she not speak up? Was she behind it all? Did she sell out my father? According to different sources, she disappeared after my father got locked up for life. So wait, was she paid off, was she threatened and why didn’t they get rid of me, FAMILY, we utter those words so blatantly yet with so much air of self-worth and forget that we are all humans, what did you expect? A mother gave up on her family, brothers living in estates with their self-righteous routines, giving to the poor, offering tithes then there was me. Our Grandfather was a colonial chief, a collaborator and so you can imagine how the price of my family gave them a comfortable life. Morality, what is right and what is wrong? Is blood thicker than water? think boy the world is not your home and their home was not my home either. Justice is just a tool the rich play with, and I believe one day I’ll do what’s right!
Moving forward I have to survive, live and fight another day, knowing my family neglected me and all left me alone in this cruel world. I don’t know if this made me bitter or stronger?? It’s only my bedsheets that know my tears, my curtains certainly covering my fears, in this cold world where I feel warm outside in the rain and lost in the daylight.