Awour’s hair looked like a huge tangle of seaweed. She arose from her bed, like a Zombie from the grave; the only thing missing was the loud moan. She had been struggling with her sleep cycle for months. No amount of sleeping early was helping her case. Awour spent three to four hours trying to just get out of bed. She had nothing to live for; she had work to do, but had no drive to do it. Any chance she had to survive simply on phone calls and email responses she jumped at. She didn’t want to leave the four walls of her home; her fortress her escape from the questioning world. Awour didn’t want to engage with anyone, she wanted to be left alone.
But she knew all too well that she also needed to make money to be able to continue to afford living as a hermit. Awour wasn’t always like this, she lead a robust life. She spent time with her friends; she would occasionally go out on hikes with friends, picnics, road trips out of town every other weekend. She would even attend dance classes.
But one morning Awour rose from bed and she just couldn’t do it anymore. She couldn’t face the world. She felt over burdened by it. Her teddy Bobo next to her pillow was her only friend against the world, she ignored phone calls from as many people as she could, she pretended to her family and best friend that all was well. They bought the lie, but only for a short while. She couldn’t explain to them what was going on, because she too couldn’t comprehend.
On this bright Friday morning, Awour arose once again like Zombie, eyes opened like doors swung open, eyes bulging with yellow boogers, then sat up erect looked around mechanically and flung her blankets off, swung her torso and her feet plopped on the floor.
“She is aliiive!” A voice mocked from the distance. Awour’s bedroom door was slightly ajar, her eyes were still adjusting to being open, she could not figure out who it was. She heard chatter in the house. “Who was that? Anyango!” She thought to herself. Her sister was the only other person with keys to her apartment; she must have let people in. Awour quickly slammed her door shut, she heard a painful whine from the other side of the door, and she grinned.
Awour emerged from her room in her robe and headed straight to the shower, the noisy chatter was more pronounced in the living room, she ignored it and hit the shower. After 15 minutes the chatter was louder, she was now getting agitated. She needed her peace; her quiet, her alone time.
20 minutes later she emerged from her bedroom smelling flowery and chocolatey and flung her living room door open, her friends, family and some colleagues were there. “What the HELL ARE YOU DOING HERE?” Awour huffed and puffed. The room fell silent, and the smiles fell to looks of pity and disappointment.