A Visit to Mike-Nerico ( I )

I had just laid down on the bed after watching the late-night news on Citizen television , when I suddenly remembered I had missed my younger brother's call . Nerico ( or Mike as he's fondly called by his work-mates , hence the username Mike-Nerico ) works as a truck-operator at CAC , a contracting company that transports canes to the Mumias Sugar-mills in Western Province of Kenya . Taking out my cell-phone , I dialled his number , clicked call and waited . After what seemed an eternity , the call was picked up but I had difficulty hearing the voice at the other end . I strained hard to catch the voice , pressing my ear against the ear-piece while at the same time adjusting the volume of my handset to maximum .

" Hellooo ! " I raised my voice alittle louder .

" 'Allo ", came the feeble reply . It was then that it dawned on me that something was terribly wrong with Nerico , who being quite a bulk of a man , usually spoke with a vibrance and vitality that only comes from a person of superb health .

He told me in a halting almost inaudible mumble that he was in hospital at Ahmadiyya Muslim Mission Hospital . That late-night phone-call jolted the drowsiness of sleep from my being . That only meant one thing ; that my brother was admitted . Farther inquiry revealed that he had earlier on in the day felt neck and joint pains but , dismissing it as just the usual fatigue that comes with his kind of work , he had taken a couple of relaxants and an equal dose of pain-killers . These succeeded in curbing the pain but only for afew minutes . He was forced to take the pills after every half an hour as each bout of pain that came far superceded the preceding . Evening brought no relief and before parking the vehicle for the close of the day , he decided to drive by the hospital and have himself examined by qualified medical personnel there . It was then that he was diagnosed of malaria .

I slept fitfully that night . A jumble of nightmares marred my sleep , forcing me to wake up at the crack of dawn , contemplating to go and inform my mama about my brother's illness . On my way to mother's place , I rang Nerico twice but his phone went unanswered . Well that was odd . There was never a day that Nerico's phone went unanswered , rather as a rule all calls were picked-up instantly on the first or second ring .

Mother sensed my uneasiness as she opened the door and let me in .

" What's the matter ? Is my girl sick ? Or is it those burglars who stole your hens again ? " her forehead creased with concern , bordering on alarm . My mother , now sixty-seven years old , always  referred to her son's wives as ' my daughters ' or ' my girls ' . Having brought forth seven sons and one daughter , her last-born , and having been born an only child ; she saw , in her sons , the brothers she never had and , in her only daughter , the sister that she so much coveted . So to her , her children were her brothers and sister . While our wives were her real daughters . And of cause what she said about burglars breaking into the chicken-run was quite true . The incident happened two months ago , the culprits made-off with my flock of thirty fine layers . To this day , they are still at large .

When I told her that Nerico had been admitted the night before , her face went a notch higher from alarm to panic . She immediately wanted to talk to him on phone . You can imagine her shock on learning that he could not pick my calls . I could now see her mind jumping onto several possible conclusions and which she dreaded voicing lest the worst happen to her son . Uncertainty hang over the two of us like a misshapen gnome , with mother calming abit after the phone-call from my uncle , who also works in the sugar-mills confirmed that indeed Mike-Nerico was in bad shape . I , on the outside , was unruffled but inside , I was slowly turning into jelly . My younger brother had an iron-stature and seemed to be cut from mettle that none of us possessed ; whereas an ordinary flu was enough to bring his elder siblings down , Mike-Nerico would comfortably go about his normal duties with a combined attack of malaria and typhoid fever in his system , occasionally taking a pain-killer to relieve the shivers and the pain .

So profound were my fears that I decided to call his wife as soon as I reached my work-station . My fears solidified into hard facts and truth when my sister-in-law finally answered my call  ," Mike is in a critical condition . He cannot talk and everything that goes in through his mouth instantly comes out . The mere sight or smell of food is enough to set him off gagging helplessly ."

I immediately rushed to the Technical-Officer's office and requested three days off-duty . I was going to Mumias to check on my ailing brother . The T.O granted me the off on humanitarian grounds and I was off on the long harrowing six-hour journey by bus to Western-Kenya . I did not even take a shower or change my clothes .