AN ATTEMPT TO END MY LIFE.

• Hi,I’m Ed and welcome to the wonderful tale of my life sucks. Right now I’m in hospital, tied to the bed. I’ve been screaming for over 3 minutes now but this shadows, they are just staring at me. I can’t see them clearly. I don’t know who they are but all I know is that they are familiar persons to me. All I can remember is that last moment, the moment when I decided all this is over. It was just me and my bottle of Triatix, a pesticide used by farmers to rid their cattle off ticks. But there’s a story behind all this. The story of how I tried taking my stupid life.

I had 1500 Bob with me in my pocket and since this would be my last day alive, I decided to live to the fullest at least this once cause we only die once. I was at Jemima’s local joint by 9am. I had my jug of keg for starters before getting myself a 750ml bottle of General Meakings, a special kinda alcohol for shs500. Like, this was the best bargain. I bought booze for anyone who came over and asked if I could at least get them a pint. Why not be remembered for being the good person after I’m gone? I drowned the bottle and even though I was tipsy, I didn’t want to get extra drunk since being too high would destroy what I had planned for the entire night. So I left and went to the nearby agro vet to ask for a bottle of Triatix for some shs225.I mean, it was the most expensive bottle there and it came in an extra fancy packaging. I got that because I just wanted to drown the whole bottle at once and leave this sad world in a bang but before I did that, I decided to let the people I cared for most know how much I really cared for them and just thank them for always being there. I wrote texts to my friends, family and people in my class that depended on me to go on at least. The best one I composed on that day was for my soon to be wife.

After completing the goodbyes, I looked at the bottle carefully, reading the ingredients and imagining how lethal and fast that shit would take me to glory and headed to the toilets at my place. I don’t really know how long I stayed in that toilet or what took place while in there but what I know and what I remember was that pungent smell that was in the air. When I opened my eyes, i saw my mom, wailing. How she got there,i don’t even know. My sight was blurry. i couldn’t catch a glimpse of anything. i think i was partially blind. People were crying in the room. I was in excruciating pain, my throat, my tummy, my head, fam, I was in hell at that very moment.

To cut the long story, Angel Gabriel wasn’t ready to have me up there yet. My attempt failed and it failed terribly. I was in an extra tight spot now. Where my mom and my soon to be wife came from I don’t understand. The doctors were busy inserting pipes through my nostrils and others on my arms. I was in pain. I was vomiting and I sight wasn’t something I had at that moment. There were voices everywhere. I wasn’t even sure about what was going on. All I could remember was the smell of that bottle of Triatix. The smell was all over me. I can’t recall how long I was in that state but what I know is that my mom was always there. A strong woman that one. I asked why I couldn’t see well and she told me that I nearly lost my sight. I was lucky they were able to pump out almost all that poison in my bloodstream. My girlfriend came to check up everyday and so did my classmates.
Everyone asked what really led me to doing this. I still don’t know what to tell them to date. All I know is that I really didn’t want to be here anymore.
Days went by and after 5 or so weeks I was told I was set to leave. But I was to be a regular at the hospital for mental meds and to just get therapy sessions. But I would go on with my drinking tendencies but this time it was weird. I was the guy who tried killing himself. People avoided me. This made me drink even more. At least I know Triatix was trash poison.

I was struggling a lot. I could juggle between my classwork and social life. But even through all this I got laid and I don’t know if it was luckily or unluckily, one of my many mamas got pregnant and gave birth to a beautiful baby girl. But this couldn’t stop me from continuing digging this grave of mine that I was busy digging with effort. Within some months, I was halted by the school. I missed numerous classes just to drink and drink properly. The halt email came very quick after the Dean Student Affairs gave up on me. He did everything a father would do for a son. That’s when shit now became real.

I was all alone. No academic activities going on, just writing and drinking with all the proceeds. It was tough. That Year. But I was yet to see what tough was in good books. I was now the “Chokoraa” I used to see and convince myself I couldn’t be in this life or the next. I would roam the market in Nyalenda and if I spotted someone I know, I would force stories and then ask them for something small at least for the unwanted stories I gave them. I would beg just for anything. I would have gone back to my parents but I mean, what would the neighbors think about the son that got an A and was just 2 years away from being admitted to the bar? I never felt that lonely in my life. I had no one. No one wanted anything to do with me. I was only welcomed amongst my fellow drunks and boy, did we drink….

I was now crushing with a garbage collector friend of mine in a shanty in Nyamasaria neighborhood. One of the worst slums in Kisumu. Our area was full of people who’d given up with life. We all just didn’t want to live no more. By 7am, we were already drunk in town. We’d save shs20 for the next day so that we would stop shaking.

Days passes and so did months. January came and I promised myself to never drink again. 5 months went by and I had shs 3000 saved up. I bought some shirts and pants and had a major upgrade to how I looked. I even shaved off my hair and beards. I was invited the University of Nairobi to face the senate to get my halt reviewed. I was 5 months clean and when I saw spots I used to hang out, I found first years in worst conditions than I was in. I was readmitted but in the excitement, I decided to get just one glass of beer and that’s how I relapsed. I started classes in Campus. No money. No nothing. I just existed. I did what I always did once more. I started missing classes. I conned guys. Everyone. My classmates. My Lecturers…. anyone who could just give me some coins.

2020….Corona came and we had the longest holiday of our life. I was working online and I’d just log in from a cyber cafe and easily make shs500 daily and do the usual. Drink everything. I was sleeping outside since my rent was due 6 months ago. I made friends with the homeless and we’d share their cartons at night to sleep on the streets in turns. Corona period ended and we resumed studies. I went to class for the first 2 days and on the third day, I arrived drunk and told my lecturer to fuck off and that I was done. Done with everything. Everything books be cause they’ve never helped me in any way anyways… and that’s how I dropped out of school.

After a few weeks of making merry in the local joints, I had one solution. To go to my cousins’ place in Nairobi. Yeah. The one that helped clear the hospital bills. But I didn’t last long. Without an option, I found myself in Congo, Kawangware. A scary place to live for those who know. But it was home. I had nothing to loose. I was just waiting on death. I got sick. I ailed for quite some time. I got low. I would sip my keg and run out to puke blood. At night I would with in pain on my pallet and in the morning I was in the bar to get something to cure me.
The few hours I was sober I would work online and spend the proceeds on booze.
“Ed, huku Congo ulikuja kufanya nini? ” the late Mwas once asked
“Huku nilikuja kujiua” I replied
But I never died. I was lost.
(to be continued)