White Walls 2

That night we all went home dead beat, hungry and broke. My little girl was much recovered after getting the drip; she played around and smiled at the household faces enclosed in the white walls…well except for white coat wearers. She stared at them with flames in her eyes whenever they passed by and I almost thought I saw her clinch  her wee fingers at their mere sight.

I saw detestation especially towards female doctors in heels and weaves. Weaves that blocked off one eye. Female doctors that we all prayed with baited breath that they don’t drop off their white coats. These could have possibly been their only cover from the shame of mankind. Crap! These doctors could have been the Jinxed spirits from hell!

Sprinkles some Holy water on key pads spelling unspeakable terms.

Exactly one year later, about two weeks ago, the jinxed spirit was back, this time, attacking baby’s throat. She got endless fevers and Calpol only camouflaged them, but only till one night.

It was around 10pm and we hadn’t had supper, my husband and I. He stepped out to have a word with his brother while I put the food in the microwave to warm. Pesh seemed fine, and then out of the blue went erratic. ‘Mommy, ibebe’ I picked her up. ‘Ibebe!!’ she pestered, trying to climb up my head. I got bemused wondering what other word ibebe would mean, aside from carry me. ‘Ibebe!’ I stood up. ‘Sende!’ it was dark, where did she want us to go? I wondered. I tried to show her it was dark outside, but she was too disillusioned. ‘Jane, bye bye!’ she waved to my house help, happy that we were leaving. When I turned her back and headed for the couch she got aggravated and restless. ‘Mommy, sende!’ I declined.

She went hysterical. ‘Shika nyonyo’ I tried to woo her. It failed. ‘Haya twende tulale’. Failed.

I gave up. She kept asking me to carry her yet I already had.

Suddenly she was thirsty. She demanded for water. It was put to boil immediately and brought over. It was still a little hot so I asked Jane to cool it a little.

Pesh couldn’t wait. She grabbed the glass and drained the water like her very life hang on it. We exchanged looks with Jane. It was agreed she was not well.

At that moment, the only thing I was sure of was that I was not sleeping with a little mad girl. So we rushed to hospital, again, hungry.

She was smiling all the way to hospital, stunned by the darkness of the estate. She did not ask that I carry her. She was a bundle of peace…at least till we reached the hospital.

For the first time since I met my little girl, I saw a tiny possessed woman in her. She was totally uncontrollable and the only thing that calmed her down was a sip of water I got her from the dispenser. She remembered the white coat and immediately turned and ran. Getting her into the doctor’s room for treatment is a whole blog website on its own.

So it turned out that she was on the brink of convulsing. Yes and Calpol turned out to be too baby for her. These manufacturers need to do some advancement to let us know when medication is to be used and at what age. Yes if you know anyone who works…or sleeps there, ask them to pass this message. I almost lost my daughter to an ‘F’ing  fever. And It’s not funny. I’m literary in very low moods as I punch down these words. I just realized it was because of the memories this piece gives me. I know. It looks shallow to non moms, but I promise I will try hard not to say ‘I told you so’ when once upon the future you have one for yourselves.

When you lack sleep as you watch your baby snore her dreams away, terrified that she may have a nightmare. When you call every hour  to find out how she is, to listen to her gibbering;  when you die when your house help won’t pick up her phone and when you send everyone you know to you house to find out why her phone is ‘mteja’

It’s crazy being a first time mom. I actually thought twice about taking her to the doctor. The last time I did, doc listened attentively, and then of all questions he picked to ask, it just had to be. ‘Is she your first born?’ seriously?

I know, I’ve heard it, and probably you too that when you have your first born, the directives to the house help when you leave the house is ‘Call me when she sneezes’ when you get a second child, the message changes slightly to, ‘Call me when you can’t separate them in a fight.’ And by the time you get baby number 3, you transform to ‘Call me, ONLY when you see blood!’

I have a long way to go.

So evil spirit, just in case you are also reading this blog, this is my message to you.

*Placing hand on your head in prayer*, ‘Ushindwe! pepo mbaya!! Riswa! *pouring all Holy water on you!* Na usirudi kwangu next year na hizo zingine pia!! Mannerless pepo colorless! Angamia Al shabaab wewe! Kafiri! Rudi ahera ulikotoka! * calming down*

‘This prayer oh Lord is to cleanse my house and all readers of this blog, just so I don’t chase it straight into one of their homes. Bless us all with health, wealth and wisdom. I pray in Jesus name.’

And we all say,


I now feel rejuvenated and fresh and so should you. Let’s keep praying for our families and keep this evil spirit away, especially for our children. Should you feel it encroaching your house, repeat the prayer above…um the first one and all shall be well with you. Have a prayerful week folks!

5 thoughts on “White Walls 2”

  1. really really bad memories,trying times as well but you know all little ones are watched over by the almighty so i believe that there is usually no need to worry.God always has her back..

  2. Its really quite inspiring looking back from where we have come from,and more so fulfilling when the challenges encountered only leaves us even more stronger.great construction of words to make such a touching story that leaves great memories to be remembered…good stuff.

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