The Great Awakening

THE GREAT AWAKENING

The heavy down pour had just stopped but it was still drizzling lightly outside. My six-year-old sister was humming one of the new rhymes she had learnt in school that day, and the monotony of the song was beginning to irritate me.
I did not want to comment. Doing so would only led to a fight. Of course I would win, but she would have the last laugh as my parents would always take her side and rebuke me for being inconsiderate.
“For heaven’s sake, she is five years younger than you!” they would always say.
What I did not quite understand was why they never told my sister that I was five years older than her and so she should respect me and give me the peace that I want.
I stared wide-eyed into the blackness of our bedroom. I could not find sleep. Not with my sister singing the same song over and over right under my ears. It was so nauseating. I tossed and turned, trying hard to ignore her. I could not, she was unbearable.
I needed my own room. I had told my mother on several occasions but she just would not hear of it. I wanted my own space. A place away from my sister’s interference.
Anytime I mentioned that I wanted to have a room of my own, she would narrate to me how they- all the nine sisters – had shared a room smaller than ours. They had all slept huddled in hard papyrus mats, and they had never even thought of complaining.
I was tired of listening to the same old story. Those were their days. Times had changed. I wanted to be like my other friends. I wanted to have a huge room with a big music system and a television. I wanted a room with clothes full of trendy clothes.
My father had promised that we would move to a larger house where I would have my own room, but that would only come after six years. Six years of waiting! Six unbearable years of sharing a room with my sister. Six long years of being different from my friends. It seemed so far.
“ Give me a pie, give me cake…” my sister’s shrill voice droned on. She was starting the song over for the eighty ninth time!
I placed a pillow on my head and let my mind wader. I imagined myself in a beautifully decorated room, listening to loud rock music. It was so much fun. My friends were flipping through cool fashion magazines and we were all admiring the fabulous dresses the fashion idols were wearing. Some of my friends were checking out the new clothes that were sprawled all over my bed.
My thoughts were interrupted by my sister calling me. There was urgency in her voice. I rolled my eyes. It was so like her to remove me from my fantasy world just to ask me her kiddish questions.
“Mercy, did you hear that noise?’ she whispered.
I did not respond. I knew it was one of her many tricks. I was tired of them- fed up!
She started shaking me vigorously. My patience was running out.
“What is the matter with you Judy?” I whispered back.
“There is somebody moving outside. I have heard some movements,” she replied, alarmed.
I remained silent, and tried to listen. There was nothing. I felt intense anger and hatred towards my sister rise up within me. These feelings flashed through me till I felt my breathing being laboured. I slapped her hard across the face. I
Slapped her again. And again. My body shook in rage.
She did not yell as expected of her. She just let a low moan and sobbed silently. I covered my ears and turned to face the wall. I felt my tears flow.
Then-I heard it. Somebody was coughing outside. The sound came from right next to the bedroom window.
Stealthly, I tiptoed towards the window and parted the curtains. I peered outside but I did not see anything. There was deep darkness outside. For a timeless moment, I stood staring outside, hoping to see the cause of the noise, but there was nothing.
I went back to bed. Lying on my back, several thoughts crossed my mind. Maybe it was someone waiting for the night to close in so that he attacks.
I heard a muffled cough. I became alarmed.
“Daddy, Dad!” I called out. I got no response.
My sister was still sobbing. I looked at her but said nothing.
“Daddy!” I tried again, increasing my volume.
“Mercy, I hope you are not waking us up to convince us that you need your own room, your eight aunts and I shared an even smaller room when we were much older than you…” came my mother’s voice.
I knew the story word by word. I had heard it ever since my sister was born. It was so boring. I particularly hated the part where they would fight for one blanket-the nine of them! It got even worse when my aunts came visiting. They would gladly show me the scars they got from fighting for the blanket.
“Mum, it is not that. Somebody is walking outside.” I stuttered.
I heard my father saying that my obsession with having my own room was beginning to affect me psychologically and that something should be done. My mother suggested boarding school and then they both came to our room.
“Have you two been fighting again?” asked my mother, holding my sister’s hand.
“It is Mercy who started it all,” said my sister.
I did not want to start an argument. There was somebody walking around our house and I thought it was more important than knowing who started the fight.
“There is somebody outside”, I interrupted.
Nobody was listening to me. My parents were busy fussing over my sister as usual. I threw myself on my bed just as my father began to lecture me on how I should respect the age difference between my sister and I.
As they were leaving the room, they were startled to hear muffled sounds of someone crying outside.
My father rushed to his room to get a torch. My mother reached for the whistle. They instructed us to lock our door and stay still and then hurried outside.
I was scared. I stayed huddled in the corner of my bed.
After about ten minutes, I heard my mother rapping on our bedroom window.
“Get me methylated spirit,” she ordered.
Barefoot, I rushed outside with the methylated spirit. My sister was following me from a distance.
I strained my eyes to adjust them to the darkness. I was surprised to see my mother squatting next to a young girl who was shaking from the impact of the night’s cold.
Her body was bruised and blood was oozing from her temple. My mother wiped her bruises gently and time and again, she winced in pain, but she did not cry.
“What is your name,” my father asked. Silence. She did not reply. Her gaze remained on the ground.
“Where are your parents little one?” my mother inquired, stroking the girl’s therwise shaggy hair.
“I have no parents Ma’am,” she answered weakly. A cold wind blew my face. There was deep nocturnal silence. I felt a sharp pain on my stomach.
“And where do you stay Sweety?’ my mother broke the silence. Her eyes searched my mother’s face.
“ I have no home. I stay in the bus park, but today the big boys sent me away. They want my marble.” She replied. Tears streamed her face. Her fist was clenched tightly.
“Do not send me away. Let me shelter from the rain outside here. I swear I will not steal anything.” She said amidst sobs.
My eyes moistened. I felt the need to be close to somebody. I held my sister’s hand and squeezed it tightly.
My mother helped the little girl rise from her sitting position. Her blue dress was tattered and I noticed that her hair was longer than mine, only that hers had not been combed.
When we reached the house, my father gave her maandazi and milk. She ate greedily as we watched.
“What is your name,” my father asked again.
“ I am Kelyn,” she whispered. Her face remained expressionless and she stared blankly at the wall hangings in our dining room.
I saw her rugged marble. She was holding it tightly in her right hand. Her face was pale, but she was pretty. Her blue dress must also have been very nice when it was new.
“Kelyn, come let us go to bed. Our room is very big…” I found myself saying.
My parents looked at me in surprise. My father held my shoulders, my mother held my hand, and kelyn smiled. Yes, she did. She had the sweetest smile I had ever seen. Her neatly arranged teeth had a gap in front.
That night as I lay on my bed, I cried. They were not the first tears I was shedding in that room, but they were the first ones I was shedding for my selfishness.
I realized that I had been thinking about myself and crying for a bigger room, yet there were children out there, children younger than myself who were crying for a room, regardless of the size.
I looked at kelyn. She was deep asleep. Maybe it was the first time she was sleeping on a bed. I was greatly challenged.
In the morning when I woke up, my mother informed us that Kelyn was being taken to an institution that caters for children like her. I did not question her.
That was the last I saw of Kelyn, but her face stayed in my memory to this day. It is engraved in my mind.
Kelyn changed me overnight. I ceased complaining bout the small room. I had received the great awakening. I started seeing our room as a very big room. It was too big for just the two of us.
I could not believe it. So much had happened in such a short time- I had changed so quickly. And the changed had happened within me.
“Your room is nice,” Kelyn had said to me when we were having breakfast. Her words had meaning, and so did the smile she wore when she said them.
I watched as my parents took her with them. She waved at my sister and I, till they disappeared from our vicinity.
I went to our room and found her marble on the bed she had slept on. I kept it to this day- a part of Kelyn had remained in our room.
I had learnt a lesson from a girl younger than myself. Everybody commended my new self. Never shall I forget Kelyn. Never shall I forget that night which changed me for all eternity, and taught me how to appreciate things. Never shall I forget. Never!
NUMBER OF WORDS: 1840.