More Than Words

Hey you.

I’ve been debating whether or not to continue writing/posting that Kip story. Writing is hard … wueh… but I love it. I love stories and by the Grace of God Almighty, I have actually finished this one. It has like six parts and today’s post is part tres (Spanish for three). We’re halfway there, guys! Only thing is, I don’t know when you guys will get to read it all. Christmas is coming up after all, and you guys have plans, right? It’s doubtful that while you’re making merry you’ll be reading this (it’s doubtful that I myself will even be online then) but you’ll tell me.

If you want to read the rest of the story while you kill and eat innocent goats, that’s cool. I just need a heads up.

Anywho, Part Three.


***

The last time William saw his father, he was 19. He was technically a man when he left home. He had just finished high school. High school! Having done really well in his exams, someone somewhere, by the grace of God, decided to offer him a scholarship to university. The entire world was unfolding before him and he took the scholarship with glee.

Baba William did not share in his son’s joy. He was getting old, almost 60. His eyes had started getting dim – cataracts no doubt but he refused to go to the hospital to treat it. And because his strength was not what it used to be, someone had to take care of the farm. Who better to do it than his only son? A strapping young lad. And now that that silly business of a secondary school education was done with, William should take up his role. 

Mama William thought that her son should see the world and not get stuck living in the same place his entire life. She wanted to explore her wanderlust through him. Wanted him to expand his mind. There was more to life than milking and herding and milking and herding and the occasional planting of maize. 

William left for college, disregarding his father’s anger at his doing so. 

“If you leave, don’t you ever come back here, you ungrateful child!” Baba William said.

William stood in the doorway of the house he had helped his father build just a few years before. If you stood really still and breathed in the air, you could still smell the scent of the paint. Looking to his mother who simply shook her head. She told him with her eyes, “Your father is just being difficult. He’ll come around.” William nodded and said to his parents, “Thank you for all you have done for me. Father, I want to help you but I need to know what’s out there. I’ll never be settled until I do.”

His father harumphed and said, “Step out that door and you are a fatherless child. You will have no part in me.”

William became angry, “Are you being serious right now?”

“I said what I said.”

Looking to his mother, “Mum?”

“I’m sure he doesn’t mean it, son,” Mama William said.

Turning to his wife, Baba William scowled. “Don’t speak for me, woman! And you, boy, go into the world that you have chosen above your father. Above your inheritance. You have killed me with work and I hope you never get children -”

“Baba William!” his mother shouted.

“ – I hope you never get children for if you do they will kill you too. Now get out!”

Tears welled up in William’s eyes and he crossed the threshold. Into the cold morning air he stood. His mother walked quickly behind him. They embraced and she said, “As your mother, I bless you.”

“Thanks, mum.”

“I’ll talk to your father.”

“I have no father,” William said. 

 

College went well for William. He studied Business and eventually specialized in Insurance. After school, he interned at several insurance companies before one of them eventually took him on as a full-time employee. There he thrived (As your mother, I bless you) and got promotion after promotion.

Then he met a girl named Anne and they fell in love.

William and Anne got married at the Attorney General’s office and began their life together. Soon, Anne became pregnant and William was overjoyed. With his wife, he made all sorts of plans for their new addition. They researched everything from breast milk vs formula, sleeping habits, doctor’s visits. They talked about baptisms and schools and what they would like their son or daughter to be when they grew up.

And they bought a crib. White with a golden finish. It fit right in with their decor in the corner of their room.

But Anne miscarried and they were heartbroken.

A few months later, they tried for another child. This time Anne did not conceive. Her monthlies came and went for three years. They sought medical help but there was nothing physically wrong with either of them. They were distraught until finally, Anne decided to seek spiritual help. She went to a church and prayed as Hannah had prayed for her Samuel – going as far as to babble nonsense words in the wooden pews of the sanctuary. Yelling at God and at the Golden Bells hymn books with their worn-out covers that resembled crocodile skin. She gave tithe. She gave offerings. And one time she prayed so much she lost her voice for a day. 

So, Anne conceived again and she spent the entirety of this pregnancy in church lest even the thought or the mention or the smell of sin causes her to lose this baby.

William, not really one for church, was thankful to God nonetheless. His wife was pregnant (I hope you never get children -) and was about to deliver. Right on cue, on her due date, her water broke and he sped her to the hospital. He was so happy he couldn’t breathe. It was like the joy he felt wanted to explode out of his chest. After nine hours, that cold day in November, the doctor told him he had a son and both the boy and his mother were doing well.

Grateful, he hugged the doctor and said a tiny prayer in the waiting room. There, in that waiting room, with his eyes closed and a smile plastered on his face, thinking about all the things he would do with his boy, how he would be a better father and support his son’s dreams, William’s heart stopped.

(- for if you do they will kill you too)

5 Comments

  1. A story within a story. It’s like every part (1/2/3) is going back in time, back to the beginning. Was a bit lost until I read this sentence in part 2:
    “On the day of his birth, Jackson’s father died. Just like that. No explanation, his heart gave out like the ding of an oven to let you know something was done. His time was done and he was gone. There would not be any second-borns or third-borns. Just like that Jackson was all Anne had in the world. A boy without a father.”

    Funny how when you know the ending of something, we’re more accepting of it (i.e we read the above part last week comfortable) yet when we read part 3 (today’s) and it left us hanging at the end, it’s always nerve-wracking! SMH! Wierd!

    @Mark, Great Read! Please don’t pause, otherwise, we’ll lose track and have to read from part one again…

    4

Leave a Reply