Mogaka’s Lot

“Al Hamdulillah sijaona msichana kama wewe.” The sweaty dreadlocked vocalist belted out strumming his guitar. He bobbed his head steadily, dreamy, life went on around him, people milling by, high fives and laughter, cell phone chatter from stone cold business suit types, then there was Mogaka.
Mogaka had slippers tied to his knees and hands; he had a piece of cardboard secured ingeniously between his knees and hands which scraped against the rough concrete pavement. The sound would cause a temporary stir among the swarms of crowds towering past him. Once their glances met him they quickly went about their business. Mogaka wasn’t one to mind, after years in the same routine, he learnt not to expect much from humanity. They are the ones that got him there in the first place.
It had been 15 years ago when Mogaka had signed up as a village volunteer in a local Youth service recruitment drive. Training was rigourous; Mogaka was up to the challenge he wasn’t fazed much by the strain on his tender frame. During one early morning run at 4am, Mogaka was running ahead of the pack, as always, enjoying the morning breeze easing in the air into his expectant lungs, when something heavy smashed his legs in. He fell to the ground and as he used his arms to lift himself up, a sharp pain pierced through his hip and spine and head. He passed out.
Mogaka woke up 5 months later from a coma with stubs; legs amputated at the knee.
“Training accident, but look on the bright side you are alive.” The doctor quickly told him as Mogaka tried to make sense of his surroundings. There was a persistent irritating sound that he tried to shield himself from with his hands. But when he raised his hands he couldn’t believe what he saw. His palms seemed to be stuck at a 90 degrees angle. He looked at the doctor puzzled; quizzical.
He turned and a familiar face emerged. Suzie. Mogaka’s kid sister looked at him with puffy eyes. Mogaka was her hero and couldn’t help seeing him in such a state.
‘Momo! Hi!” She affectionately called him with a quivering smile and overly moist eyes.
“What is happening Sue? What is wrong with me?” His voice wavering and angry. Suzie bursts out in tears, the doctor emerged to the fore; a different doctor; composed and sober.
“Mogaka. I am doctor Adongo. You are in Kamiti Hospital, and you have just awoken from a 5 month coma. Now…”
The doctor was abruptly cut short by Mogaka’s screaming, he tried to slap his thighs in anger and shook his wrists as if to awaken them to move in the gesture he wanted them to. But to no avail. His mouth wide open; he began to moan like a wounded animal. Spitting out, “why did you do this to me? Why? You did this!” He was pinned down by three orderlies and sedated. That would be the beginning of a long nadir.

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