Njeri has returned to her husband's abode, swayed by the enchanting persuasion of the ever-charming Mbugua. He has convinced her that they possess a future to construct and cannot squander it idly. Presently, she finds herself in the company of an intimate companion – the shadow. This shadow accompanies her relentlessly, steadfastly refusing to be left behind. Though she endeavors at times to shake off its presence, her attempts prove futile. It's akin to a curse, an omen bound by an unspoken pact to walk with her. Her sister, Jane, prophesies that it shall forever be her constant companion, a sentiment that Njeri herself questions. How children delight in labeling themselves with grand titles like psychologists or doctors, merely from reading an online article or perusing their devices. This naivety, this audacious assumption, renders Jane's depiction of the looming shadow in Njeri's existence all the more comical, Njeri ponders inwardly. What does she truly comprehend? She is but youthful, ignorant of life's complexities.
Groggily, Njeri stirs from her bed. Her body throbs, urging her to lie down just a little. Where must she venture? Furthermore, weariness prevails, necessitating rest, her physique protests. She sluggishly rests her head upon her pillow and lifts her feet from the floor, gently nestling them upon the bed.
Yes, exhaustion envelops her! Restful slumber has evaded her grasp. Another doctor attributes her discomfort to the shadow, an assertion that perplexes her. When did the doctor acquire the same notions, Jane devours? As a trained medical practitioner, he should dispense curatives to alleviate her distress. Yet he agrees to Jane's whims of delusion and hallucination, advocating for a diagnosis of the shadow. But how does one diagnose a shadow? It remains elusive, emerging at its own discretion. Nonetheless, her sister, the self-proclaimed healer, contends that the shadow appears not when it's convenient, but rather when glimmers of supposed light manifest. It materializes when the very sunrays she evades confront her. In this notion, there lies some semblance of truth – she has indeed evaded the sun, the light.
On this day, as she yields to her body's yearning for rest, she draws the curtains shut. When the 'mama fua,' who attends to the household's cleaning duties daily, arrives, Njeri instructs her to keep the curtains drawn. However, due to the prevailing influence of her sister's perceived medical expertise, the curtains are drawn open. Njeri instinctively shields her face, harboring resentment as she softly curses under her breath.
“Mama… habari ya asubuhi?” she asks.
“Mzuri,” Njeri answers hurriedly as she is forced to confront the shadow and the burning sunlight.
“Umelala vizuri,” Magdalena chips in
Njeri ignores her and motions for her to depart. Seated upon the bed now, feet dangling, she gazes at the shadow. Today, the shadow regards her with an almost sinister smile, announcing that she has been missed. Njeri harbors displeasure at the realization that she has been striving to avoid the shadow's presence. Since departing her parental home, she's either evaded its sight or found means to dispel it. On days when she succeeds in ensnaring the shadow, she flourishes within her household – or so she believes. Tender endearments escape her lips as she shares intimate moments with her spouse, who, like the shadow, straddles the realms of her whimsy and reality. In her whimsical world, she incarcerates her demons, much like she does the shadow. Yet, as these demons are subdued, she experiences transient solace. But her husband, her anchor, swaps from a source of solace to a source of chaos. The steady vessel of her life is capsized, undoing all that she has painstakingly erected in accordance with her mother's counsel. The once immaculate tale is tainted.
Njeri abruptly rises, draws the curtains close, and with a magician's finesse, relegates the shadow back to the whimsical realm. Yet, this time, the shadow resists, mounting a struggle. As it battles for its place, it whispers in Njeri's ear, "We cannot endure like this. I am a part of you, and I am here to help."
These words echo the sentiments of her doctor and her sister. In what curious convergence did they all unite, adopting the creed of "We cannot endure in this manner"? She muses inwardly. She shuts her eyes, a solitary teardrop tracing her cheeks. She weeps, lamenting her choice to suppress an integral facet of herself.
What can be said? I can only join Njeri in her tears, as she once more exiles the voice of reason to an alternate realm. Yet, I question whether Njeri discerns the disparity between these two realms. Though they seem akin, they are characterized by misplaced protagonists. The inhabitants of her whimsical world, such as the shadow, should rightfully reside in her reality. As I wipe my tears, I offer a silent prayer: let there be light for once there is light the dark can depart enabling Njeri to embrace the shadow that could liberate her from the tumultuous world, she's so resolute in forging.
I’m part of you .. that spoke volume
Shadow should rightfully reside in her reality