Crawling

Stuck deep in the woods, to the horse said the boy; I can't see through. The horse replied; Can you see your step, then take it one at a time. I don't know how the whole thing ended, it's a quote I read sometime back, can't place it exactly but just to give it a thought, a step at a time with no clear view of where you are headed, perhaps going deeper inside the dark scary woods all with hopes that eventually turn to some "civilization", then enjoy life on the first lane.

Hope is a risky thread to hang on to at times. I'd love to set a play with the horse and the boy, but more specific just the scene where they are stuck in the woods. The boy frightened probably now crouching by the horse's side, holding him so tight that when something dreadful pops up he quickly jumps on him for protection. The horse, black, I love black horses I heard they are faster than others. Well-fed, muscles screaming all over, just an intimidating view but also strong enough to take off when the intimidation isn't working, it's the thing with horses if you've noticed in those vintage films.

Horses hardly run into danger, they have a strong sense for danger ahead, and if you try to push them they drop you and take off leaving you behind. Of course I know some instances in those films, some different ones more courageous ones that fight side by side with their master, sometimes carrying them back on their own away from the battlefields. That's a special breed, a more imaginary one. Then there exist those Disney ones with wings usually white, a nice choice of colour for such characters though, I bet they'll try and negotiate, peace talks instead of war.

Away from horses and boys stuck in the woods. Maybe men also deserve to be listened to, not always the mechanical talks and throwing of solutions. Unfortunately, this always happens when as a man you have nothing in form of a solution to offer to your fellow, so you are just there feeling useless, as the tale gets stronger and deeper yet you can't even shed a tear for that will take away the pride, real men and as they say gangster points. It's our thing, always feeling like the best thing to ever exist in this world after sliced bread when we are not being vulnerable or at least not showing.

I was on the floor, I love sitting on the floor, it has nothing to do with the comrade-furniture relationship, I have a couple. Thinking hard about my friend Mev, I was just from a call with him, I gave him an ear for I had nothing to offer. He had just received a letter, a cordial invitation to the university senate, weeks after his portal had been suspended. We all know how that usually ends, a case of a bull at the slaughterhouse just hoping that the butcher gets sick and doesn't show up, what are the odds?

The last studio session on campus and the second last exam before he graduated with a degree in Construction Management, they call them CONMAN in the construction streets when things went south. He had submitted his piece, a beautiful model of a next-generation recreational facility but the angle of doom wasn't ready to let him go, perhaps into civilization from the dark woods.

Young man this isn't your work, I've seen this piece before, why are you copying your fellow's work this isn't copying, you just brought the whole piece as it was, this is exam irregularity and you know the consequences, just get out. I'm sick and tired of you type of lazy student, it's time the world teaches you some manners. That was his lecturer, a young lady, probably early forties. Lean, heavy on the makeup with some worn-out wig plopping imbalanced on her skull. She had just dismissed his work, a piece he had spent hours on, purely his idea, and with just some touch of references and to make matters worse she had threatened to flag him for cheating. He tried pleading with her, but all in vain.

That evening, Friday wasn't the typical let's go out and give the week the respect it deserves. He still had a paper on Monday, the last one but it didn't matter, nothing did. I wonder whether my attempts to offer some advice made any difference. He slept the whole weekend, hoping that maybe she might reconsider handing him a retake for the work since flagging him meant discontinuation from the institution. But hope is a risky thread to hang on to.

A week later his portal was suspended. That's the first sign we all knew. He broke into tears, crying his way into sleep. He had been through a lot. I figured, rather I hoped that he would continue clinging to hope as he always did, I saw him the following day. He was strong, I guess taking the steps, one at a time, sure that whatever the waves bring, the shore receives, he was the shore, a solid one.

Back on the floor wondering, how do I even start telling my folks that I'd been discontinued from the institution, after all the hustle to raise fees for the four years? That I've been accused of cheating, will it even make sense, that of all the hundreds of students in a class, you were the only one, the best to be accused? The thought was devastating but at least I had someone to think of, talk to, and perhaps explain myself to, someone who maybe might understand after all parents always come through, but not for Mev.

Just after finishing high school, disaster started calling. The class of 2015 was a disaster by itself but he made it through. A little celebration with the family, the father, an army officer who was on deployment duties was later to join the family for a bigger celebration on his return in January, but he never did, he was no more. A victim of an ambush miles away in a foreign country. The mother was struck harder, she felt sick and by March of the following year, she was hospitalized, started with cerebral malaria and ended her going, wackos. She was wasted, always in conversations with herself. Sometimes talking to her dead husband.

Mev is the firstborn, in a family of two. The younger sister always sees a hero in him, perhaps now the parent. The mother had joined her husband into the spirits, though her body with us, hopefully watching them maybe guide them through, but it was a different case. Through the military kitty funds, and compensation to the family, Mev had managed to join campus. He came from kapenguria on his own, back then admission was crazy, and people camped a day before to beat the line. He slept outside in the cold night after arriving in Nairobi some minutes to midnight and took a cub straight to the university. I found him that morning when I arrived for admission and shared with him some tea to beat the early morning cold of Kenyatta University.

The little sister went to live with a relative, and the mother was admitted to a psychiatric facility. He communicated once in a while with the sister and hardly went to see the mother. She couldn't even recognize him, she maintained the smile though, but not sure what she was smiling at. Seeing her always reminded him of what peace, joy perhaps what true happiness seemed like. He was on his own, from selling Sim cards to supermarket attendants around the school. 

He struggled through, just to see it all for nothing in the end. No power of hell, no scheme of men can pluck me from his hands; he prayed every evening, and believed so, but what if it was the other way round? Perhaps is God trying to pluck him from the powers of hell and all the ill schemas of men, then why was He taking too long then?

I had nothing to say to him, but just lend an ear anytime we came across. With time even the meeting become harder, our friendship seemed to fade as the days went by, and it was always hard to even tell him how my class had been, how my parents back at home were or what sort of ambitions I heard for the future. We were reduced to checking on each other and reacting to memes. 

He's a strong guy. He brushed it off, he had to. Now a dedicated YouTube University student, by night and servant of the streets by day, he's learning some graphic design,  he's gifted at making pictures speak.

Perhaps the horse was just right, a step at a time something always comes up, if you can see your step, then take it, but why is it always dark, if the man was to fly, wasn't it easy just to be born with wings?