86,400 seconds

 

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Am a daughter, a sister, an aunty and a friend. And sometimes i take a break from back breaking hustle and use my time in being precisely these things. Mother dear, my big sister, my niece and nephew stay far from me; and last week was dedicated to staying and bonding with them. This saw me engage in glorious activities that are not in my mundane city life schedule: I went to the farm, took care of chicken (The irony is one of them ended up in my frying pan...taking care of something only to drain it of its life and feast on it!! smh), washed babies, played with babies and walked one to school.

My first destination was Matuu where i spend two days with mother dear, then i had five days with my sister, niece and nephew in Masinga. My schedule while at my sister's was simple- exactly what i needed for my break. I woke up at 6 O'clock, readied my nephew for school, took him to school and returned to watch the tiny one. Days went by fast as we played foot/ handball- depending on your definition of a game supposedly called football where one player has to constantly remind the other not to use her hands on the ball! (Hand-to-Ball kind of situation). The first three days went well, i repeated the schedule and it became a routine i was used to; this inadvertently instilled the confidence that the days in the future would just be as great if not better.

Then came day four. The only difference at least from the way the day started was just in the name. Otherwise the same routine played on. At 2pm, my niece and i left the house to pay the salon a visit. Days at the salon make up some of her best days, so it was sheer excitement for her in the hot afternoon as we stately walked to the nearby salon.

At the salon, ready with snacks in case she became famished i sat in front of her. I would occasionally wink or smile at her to somewhat assure her of my undivided attention on her. She sat on her tiny seat miming  joy while she held tightly to my phone playing games giving the hairdresser ample time to gently work on her head. After one and half hours, the magic was done and after settling the bill we were on our way back home. Shortly after we arrived at home, the princess fell asleep! I took advantage of the window period to read a few pages of The Devil's Light by Richard North Patterson.

I was drawn from Patterson's deep thoughts on global terrorism by the resounding ring of the alarm clock which reminded me it was time to pick my nephew from school. Shortly after he arrived home, his sister woke up. After routine feeding i allowed them to go outside to play with their mates, before bath time.

By 6:30pm, their mother was preparing dinner, while i washed them. Bath time is always a good story telling time where each of them told me about their day, friends and what have you. Never mind the long bathing time, i finished in no time and joined my sister in the kitchen. The kids were playing in the living room and once in a while i would peep to make sure they were safe, remind them to be gentle with each other and that i was still in charge and was watching out for any bad behaviour. Suddenly, we heard a thud followed by an anguishing cry of distress that dissolved our laughter in the kitchen and captured our total attention.

We rushed in nearly perfect unison to the living room, and found my niece writhing on the ground in pain. She had fallen from the arm of the couch! I was the first to get to her and carried her in my arms off the floor. I wiped her tears as i sporadically coughed words of comfort desperately hoping that they would flow through the pain and ease it. She cried more frantically and loudly. Her agony crippled my heart and i wished somehow the pain would be siphoned to me (there are a lot of instances in this world that can be defined as difficult; and seeing someone you absolutely love in pain and you can do nothing to take it away, is most certainly top in the list) but i held up hope that the pain would soon die away. In my head i hoped it was a minor accident without fatal injuries; you know the kind that do not significantly throw you off normalcy, like (hitting the head against a wall, squeezing the finger between the door hinges and hitting a stone with the toe as you walk!). No matter how excruciating the pain is at first, it fades away and you quickly move on. So i believed that it was a small mishap and all would be fine in a short while.

But as i held her head i noticed blood on my hands! She was actually hurt on the head! The sight of blood oozing from the back of the head of a two year old is anything but a minor accident! (Even for an adult) At the sight of the deep red warm blood on my hands, i felt woozy, my vision was blur and the room begun to spin. I felt all the colour drain from my face and as the pulse rate of my heart increased tenfold, cold sweat begun to form on my head. I was feeling hot and cold at the same time. I felt the walls suck away all my confidence, and the comforting words that were effortlessly  leaving my mouth begun to stick on my throat. It was a battle of courage and fear, and fear was well on its way to carrying the day.

My sister as if acting on cue to my fear carefully took the baby from my arms and in courage that i truly believe is only exhibited by mothers ran out of the house. To a nearby health centre.

For a few seconds i was stuck where i stood, my prime mission being trying not to hyperventilate in bold and Caps in the presence of my nephew. I could feel my heart beating so hard, but in the midst of the fear i was aware of my responsibility to keep my nephew calm. I made him sit down. Then told him that he had absolutely no reason to worry, that his sister would just be washed by the doctor and given some painkillers. Mastering all the strength i could, i crooned more words of encouragement and managed to calm him. As i walked out, i promised him that we would all be fine and asked him to sit tight and wait for our return.

I have always been the kind of person who even when frightened, manages to put on a brave face. But that day as i walked out, i shoved the 'looking strong' character under the seat closest to the exit door. I did not want to spend any more energy fabricating a courage mask to put on my face.

The health centre was right opposite the road. Looking left and right, i carefully crossed the road. This road has a reputation of  killing. It is a fairly busy road and mostly the vehicles there are driven at an ungodly speed. I had to be aware of this lest i became another emergency. From a few feet to the main entrance of the centre, i could hear the sharp cries of my little niece. She normally has some hospital phobia, so a combination of that and the pain she was in must have been overwhelming.

I made a series of short prayers as i walked in. "Jesus please jesus please!" I hope this counts for because it was all my mind could create. I reached the waiting bay where there were people sitted, perhaps waiting for a loved one being treated or waiting for their turn to see the clinician. I could not sit so i paced around the room in antsy anticipation wearing my worry on my sleeves! Soon afterwards, my sister closely followed by the medic appeared from a corridor with her baby who was still crying, on her arms. I wished for good news and tried to read her face but my mind could not make out anything. I walked on to meet her halfway across the room.

Turns out the promise i made to my nephew would be fulfilled- the little girl was not seriously hurt! Sigh. The officer stopped to emphasize something to my sister, "just give her the painkillers she will be fine." In a doubting Thomas fashion, i insisted to the clinician- "Please please make sure she is fine!" I have read so many stories of doctors who misdiagnosed patients, treating them for something they were not suffering while the real problem ate away the patient! These stories mostly had a bad ending, so I wasn't going to let this be our story. The clinician was a good guy! He did not snap at me, as if reading that i was really shaken; he explained that my niece due to the impact on the ground had suffered a small cut on the back of her head. He was right. The bleeding had stopped and clotting was already taking place. Thanking him, we walked out quiet, each of us probably silently reciting a prayer of thanksgiving to the God of Abraham for the miracle.

When we arrived home i served dinner and as we ate, we had shallow talks in an attempt to diffuse the somber cloud that hang over our heads. My niece was fine. She had stopped crying and ate her food. When everybody went to sleep, i sat on the couch; my heart was beaming with gratefulness, but somehow i still mulled and obsessed with that terrible moment that had changed my day. I replayed the events leading up to the moment and those that came after and wondered whether there was anything i could have done to prevent the accident from happening. It was just a series of barren- 'Maybe ifs'. I wondered how much the pain was for my little niece, tears that were a combination of gratefulness and some sadness flowed effortlessly from my eyes down my cheeks.

And it is at that moment that i begun thinking... When the clock hits 12 at midnight, our lives are magically filled with 24 hours. Intact 1,440 minutes. An untouched gift of 86,400 seconds. By the time we wake up, we normally have already spent up some hours. And we wake up and begin to bust items on our to-do lists. We don't know precisely what every minute has for us, but we move with the confidence of our mundane routines. Those that trust in a god, perhaps pray for the day and step out with the belief that the super power will stop any harm from befalling them.

But! Isn't crazy that when you really think about it, every second comes pregnant? With the potential of delivering something good or bad. But we have confidence that if things were good yesterday, today they will be no different. We trust that the day will end well, that we will fall asleep and wake up to repeat our routine. We even set alarms anticipating for the day.

And then comes that split of a second, that shakes us alive. That pumps fear through the body. That forces us to take time and appreciate all the good and normal things delivered by other seconds. That split second that reminds us of our mortality, that reminds us to be grateful. We could have it all in one minute and lose it in the next!  And when that second passes, and as reprieve sets in, the fear and pain we experienced fades away. And our incessant nature to assume that things will be always be normal creeps in. But how wonderful would it be, to be aware that routines can be wrecked by time, to be cognizant that confidence can be replaced by nerve wrecking fear. To be aware not for the purpose of living a shit scared life, but to understand that every good second is worth being grateful for and consciously chose to love more, care more and appreciate more! (Add some...'more' of your own!)