When I was a toddler, my father took care of me most of the time. Mum was away on career and academic engagement. It took my father a few weeks to discover that a nice hot bath, warm clothes, five bottles of milk (yes, five!), positioning me comfortably in a sofaset corner with music from the cassette player would automatically send me to sleep for at least four hours. This was such a convenient arrangement for dad who was a teacher back then. It meant he could attend to his students and still be at ease that his object of adoration was doing fine.
It is from that background that I truly believe my love affair with music and milk shakes originated. See, my father has a collection of African music from Addis to Windhoek and from Lamu to Tunis. Most of the music is on Compact discs… Those plastic ones with music taped on stringlike material. The point of this post however, is not detailing my fathers collection nor my love for vanilla milk shakes. It is how significant music can touch the most raw of my nerves, perhaps in no way a human being can…emotionally.
Right now I am on a bus to Kampala. This trip is quite significant to me, I am helplessly wiping tears away and pulling my nose like a little boy, girl even. I am trying to convince myself that the new medication I received from my ever awesome Doctor this evening and subsequently being rained on as I rushed to catch the bus are cause. The simple truth however, is that I am carrying a huge burden or possibly I am offloading such on this trip. Four months ago I was to do this with a loved one, we luckily escaped death instead. Today I am alone, going to an assignment that engages only I. The soft side of this trip is I am possibly on a pilgrimage to sort things in my life I wanted to from 20Th December 2010. The difference herein is that the plans as were then have considerably changed. Time, my friend, can bring about a lot.
How this became an emotion filled evening and journey… I was earlier on sitted at General Accident House, 3rd floor, with sunglasses on and deeply burried in the lyrics that characterize Dido’s ‘Life for Rent’ and ‘Coming Home’ by Sautisol. For two hours I sat at the waiting area lost in deep thought, perhaps on an emotional journey occassioned by the emotional power the said songs carry. The Doctor tapped my shoulder to tell me everyone else had gone, I was his last patient. While in his office, we did a little examination and went on to tell stories, I told him about a possible opportunity I am seeking, we talked about his profession, mine, people, love and terrorism. He asked me if I was happy that Osama Bin Laden was dead. Just the other day I put a blogpost up saying I was indeed happy, I didn’t know today, I have become that unpredictable. I even suprise myself.
As my eye teared away, he offered to drop me home. He was headed to Mater Hospital for a meeting, that’s on my way home. So we continued with our harmless chat, I picked his brain and he did the same. By the time I was alighting, I was thinking Osama Bin Laden and like minded people are lost souls and those still alive need prayers to realize new beginnings. I also gathered something quite important, that love is a beautiful thing, one we ruin by ourselves. I also learnt that acceptance is critical for self if you seek to be accepted by another, not just in love, even other relationships. I have grown to respect my Doctor since he first attended to me on 3rd January 2011. Today, exactly four months since his first diagnosis on my eye, he seems more like a big brother I never had. I remember he endeared himself to me with his cheeky demeanor… ‘Nisiskie hata umemeza mate, nitakukata kesho🙂’ He had joked on instructing I stay Nil By Mouth till surgery. Strangely not, I hold medical practitioners in general with high regard, some even with shy romantic thoughts…the ones easier on the eye.
So well, the journey goes on. New beginnings. Sometimes you just need something to hit you, good or bad, but in the right time or place to get you to possibly see life from a whole different angle. I can say that a part of my heart bleeds, at times but right now I am at a point where I find joy, lessons and wisdom in the most unlikely of places… So much from a song. So, music, it’s capable of reaching to the most deep none can. Today for most of my day, as habitual as I can get I have played the songs mentioned earlier… I am still. Now, if only I could play myself to sleep. Music Makes me high, someone else sings…
Coming Home – Sautisol
Life for Rent – Dido
Till Then, Cheers!