Sanity

Come to think of it, I have always had a thing for social distancing. I always loved isolating myself to the hills and walks in nature. Up the Nanyuki hills, I walked one evening, headphones in place. Then “aaaah aaaaw!”, a mourning growl cut through the trees and rocks. My headphones I removed, my neck I inclined towards the voice and “aaaaw oooh!!”  a woman’s voice cut through the calm air. I followed the waves, just like my ancestors would.  I saw her, seated on a rock, wearing an ancient sack. She smelled of penury and years of dirt. Her eyes met mine and she jerked her head towards the village below.  My feet froze on the grass for a few seconds, my mind leaping into the unknown. Later that evening, by Gucu’s compound I passed. Gugu (Lugha for grandma), lived on the other side of the hill isolated from the world. By the fireside, we sat as she told me about the “crazy lady”.

Her life began like any other children with a mother’s embrace. She was as pretty as an angel; she was a special child. Made her parents proud, the villages’ darling lived a peaceful life until he arrived. Oh, how she fell for him, she gave her all, forsook all who loved her and married the handsome stranger. Her sunny smile was enlarged, her happy ever after was here to stay. Lo! one morning, the handsome stranger left. She lost her baby girl to illness a year later. He lifted her so high then dropped her. As her beauty faded, she waited for the handsome stranger’s return. Through the seasons, she waited. Besides her baby’s grave, she waited. Her parents died of grief. She was the talk of the town, “she married a devil, her kid was cursed “they said. She tried putting the pieces of her life together; they didn’t fit. Just couldn’t. Height of the mountain she made her home, she would sneak and watch children play. “Mwendawazimu” they would wail as they threw stuff at her and ran. Mountain angel, she talked alone. “aaaaaw aaah ooh!” the painful growls would be heard from the hilltops. As the people went on with their lives, she wailed.

The following day, I wore my rubbers, carried a bag pack and headed towards the mountain angel’s wail. I sat next to her on the rock, placed my hands in hers, closed my eyes and “aaaaw oooh! aah!” my heart growled towards the heavens for her.  I left the next day, never set my eyes on her again. “Crazy, witch, unstable” they called the lovely mountain angel.

#Women Mentalhealthmatters

#Written for: World Nomads Travelers

#Storyplot/draft

#Ndanu-chronicles.